Miranda noticed that Scarlett hadn’t sat, then looked over and saw why.
“Oh sorry,” she said, nodding at the pile in annoyance. “I tell Max to put his things away when he wakes up, but he never does.”
To be fair to Max, which was something Scarlett didn’t really feel like being, there didn’t seem to be anywhere for his stuff to go. This apartment was full. It would have been a tight fit for one person, or one really close couple. Three people—three people who needed their own space—that was impossible. Living like this would have made her insane.
Scarlett stood there uncomfortably while Mrs. Biggs typed. It was weird enough being invited here—but stranger still to be ignored once she arrived. As someone raised in the hospitality industry, Scarlett disapproved of this.
“There,” Miranda said, finishing up and shutting the computer. “So…I thought it might be nice for Chelsea to talk to you some more…and Max. We’re new to the city, so we don’t know many…Chelsea’s busy with the show, and Max doesn’t…”
None of those sentences were complete, but Scarlett grasped the missing concept. They don’t have friends. Friends, luckily, were something that Scarlett never felt short of. She might not have studied dance for a dozen years or been in a commercial or a Broadway show…but she had people she could call at one in the morning.
“So,” Miranda said, getting up and stepping into the kitchen, “was school good?”
When normal adults asked this question, Scarlett would move through a rote response indicating that school was school and the experience had yet to kill her. But Miranda Biggs didn’t ask innocent, polite questions. She wanted to know about Max. Of that, Scarlett was sure, and she wasn’t going to tell. Scarlett decided that she would talk about absolutely everything else, much more than she wanted to know. She walked Miranda through periods one through seven, everything but Bio. Scarlett listened to the impatient thwack of vegetables being chopped.
“Right,” Miranda said, her voice barely concealing her impatience, “but don’t you and Max have a class together? Biology?”
“Oh,” Scarlett said as if just remembering this. “Yeah.”
“And how’s that?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Well,” Scarlett said, “it’s just been a few days.”
More dismemberment of vegetables. Scarlett smiled to herself.
There was a jangle of keys, and Chelsea appeared. Her hair was back in two chunky little braids, and she wore a sleek exercise outfit. She was makeup-free, but had flushed little apple cheeks, fresh from a workout of some kind.
“Oh hi!” she chirped. “Just had to meet my trainer for a session.”
“Good,” Miranda said. “You’re here. I have to go out and get more broccoli. Did you do free weights?”
“No. I think I pulled something in my neck. Derrick told me I’d better not push it or I might have trouble during the show tonight.”
“I know the muscle mass is making your weight go up a little, but as long as we balance out the rest…”
“He’s checking every day,” Chelsea said. “I’ve gained five pounds, but I’m obviously leaner.”
“As long as he’s checking.”
On that unpleasant note, Miranda left to get her broccoli, and Chelsea excused herself to take a shower. Scarlett finally took a seat on the sofa and stared at the piles of Max’s things.
Chelsea was a quick showerer. She was back in a few minutes, wrapped in a towel.
“One sec,” she said, disappearing into what Scarlett presumed was her bedroom to change. It looked like there were two bedrooms in this apartment—one for Chelsea, and one for Chelsea’s mom.
“Must be kind of hard,” Scarlett said. “All three of you in here.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” Chelsea emerged, dressed in a nearly identical set of exercise clothes. Scarlett had a feeling that if she looked through Chelsea’s drawers, she would find a dozen of these uniforms. “Max sleeps in here, which is why his stuff is everywhere. It’s a pain for him to be in the living room, but in a way, he has the most space.”
She shrugged away his lack of privacy as if it simply could not be helped, and sat down next to Scarlett to put on her sneakers.
“We’re supposed to be getting a bigger place sometime,” she said. “But we can’t afford it right now. Everything here is so insanely expensive! He didn’t want to move, and he doesn’t need to be here like I do. But my mom was obsessed with getting him into a school in Manhattan.”
“We’re lab partners now. He sits next to me.”
“Be careful,” Chelsea said. “He cheats.”
“That’s what he said. I thought he was kidding.”
“It’s true. He does. He’s really lazy, and he’ll try to get you to help him. Don’t let him take advantage. I’m not going to mind, trust me. I don’t even know why my mom dragged him to New York. He should have stayed at home.”
“Where is home?”