“I’m serious,” Rylin snapped, shoving him away.
“Fine, fine.” Hiral threw up his hands, trying to laugh it off. “You snagged ’em, you decide what to do with ’em. I’ll take them to V when I make my next drop.”
“Thank you,” Rylin said quietly.
“Maybe we can take one of the next round.” Hiral tucked the Spokes quickly into his pocket.
Rylin frowned. “There’s not going to be a next round. I won’t steal from him again.”
“Why not? You said it yourself, that douche bag won’t even notice.”
“He’s not a douche bag. He gave me that photo,” Rylin replied, though she wasn’t sure why she was defending Cord Anderton. For some reason her mind jumped to the kiss, and she flushed a little, hoping her thoughts weren’t written there on her face.
“Whatever.” Hiral made a dismissive gesture.
“What’s going on with you?” Rylin asked sharply, just as Chrissa walked back in the door, her eyes red. Rylin made eye contact with her sister, then looked back at Hiral, wondering what had set him off. Unless … her gaze drifted to the instaphoto. Could he be jealous?
“Nothing. I’m sorry.” Hiral passed a hand over his face, and his features settled back into their usual indifference. “I’ll give these to V tonight. Speaking of which, do you want to change? We should probably get going.”
Oh, right. They were all supposed to go to some party for one of Indigo’s friends. But for the first Saturday in a year, Rylin wasn’t desperate to get out and get high. She felt exhausted, and she missed her sister.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m kind of tired. Why don’t you go without me this time?”
“Whatever you want, babe.” Hiral gave her a quick kiss. “We’ll miss you, though. See you tomorrow?”
The moment the door shut behind him, Rylin turned to Chrissa. “So,” she said, as if it were totally normal for her to be staying in, “I’m gonna put on sweatpants and set the table. Are there any good vids you’ve been wanting to watch?”
Her sister looked at her in disbelief, then up at the instaphoto, and it seemed to Rylin that they were both doing the same thing—trying to rewind to before Hiral walked in. After a moment, Chrissa broke out into a smile.
“Mais oui,” she said, in the terrible French accent that Rylin had missed more than she realized. “Café Paris is open for business.”
ERIS
ERIS STEPPED UP to 2704 Baneberry Lane and opened the front door as quietly as she could. The last thing she wanted right now was for her mom to hear her coming in and try to start a conversation. Eris had barely spoken to her all week. Her feelings were still too raw and tender, like a bruise that she kept pressing on.
As the door swung inward, Eris threw a hand up to cover her mouth, trying not to gag. Their apartment had that smell again, the gross sewage-y one that occasionally wafted from the upstairs neighbors’. She pushed the front door all the way open, which usually helped ventilate a little, and wedged one of her shiny black stilettos to hold it in place. Then she sailed through the entire apartment spraying her jasmine perfume, dousing the vents in it until her eyes watered. But at least now she could breathe again.
Eris heard a noise coming from her mom’s room and stepped a little closer, only to realize that what she heard were muffled sobs. She felt a sudden flush of guilt, and shame. Her mom had been acting so optimistic all week, telling Eris about jobs she’d applied for, and trying to spruce up this awful apartment in whatever little ways she could. Caroline hadn’t once cried around Eris. Now here she was, clearly letting out her grief only because she didn’t realize that Eris was home.
Eris moved quickly past. She hated seeing her mom like this. But she wasn’t ready to go in there and hug her either. She hadn’t yet forgiven her for everything that had happened. It was like her dad—Everett, she reminded herself—had said. I just need more time, okay?
Eris sighed and opened the refrigerator. She wasn’t even hungry; it was a hollow and aimless gesture, because she wasn’t sure what else to do. For the first time in years Eris had no plans on a Saturday night. Instead she would be here, alone, in a smelly apartment while all her friends did something fabulous that she could no longer afford.
At least she’d managed to go upTower earlier today. She’d spent the afternoon shopping with Avery and the girls—not that she bought anything, but she’d been desperate to escape the lower-floor claustrophobia. They’d all gone out for icefruit afterward, and Eris had ended up spending some of her rapidly dwindling bitbanc balance on a lemon freeze, just so she wouldn’t be the only girl without one. She’d practically had to restrain herself from licking the bright pink compostable cup when she was done. She couldn’t believe she used to buy stuff like that, eat two bites, and throw the rest away without another thought.
Now the rest of the girls were all headed out, to dinner at Amuse-Bouche and then the new tiki bar Painkiller. Eris had heard that the bar looked out on a simulated ocean, where the sun set repeatedly all night long, over and over every forty minutes. In her old life Eris would be getting dressed right now. She let herself briefly fantasize about it, planning her outfit—her white crocheted halter top and the flowy skirt with the slit up the side. And a big, expensive hibiscus flower in her hair, which she would have to special order from the florist, but which would be totally worth it when all the other girls saw it and wished they’d had the same idea.
They’d all been shocked when she said she couldn’t come tonight. “Are you sure?” Avery had begged, and Eris almost blurted out the truth right then and there. But she knew the moment she did, everything would change, and she couldn’t handle that yet. None of the girls would be mean about it, of course; but they would feel awkward and uncomfortable around her, and the invitations would slowly stop coming. No one would want to make Eris feel bad by asking her to expensive dinners or yoga classes she couldn’t afford. And she needed that pretense of normalcy. It was the only thing keeping her stable right now.
Instead she’d told everyone that her parents were forcing her to come home for family dinner. Family dinner, ha. In an attempt to be nice, the girls had insisted on walking her “home” to the Nuage. Eris ended up waving good-bye and getting in the elevator, then wandered the halls upstairs for fifteen minutes before she dared come back down. It was getting exhausting, keeping up with her lies.
She started toward her bedroom but paused at the sound of commotion out in the hall, the voices traveling clearly through the doorway, which was still propped wide-open. “I know, I know, I’ll tell her!” It sounded like Mariel.
Eris glanced out and sure enough, there was Mariel, rolling her eyes as she shut the apartment door behind her. “Going out?” Eris said without thinking. Mariel was wearing a tight dress with an uneven hem, red heels, and a compact chrome bag.
“Staying in?” Mariel answered.
“Guess so. Not much to do around here, is there?”
Mariel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, our parties aren’t all champagne flutes and lame music.”
“You’re going to a party?” Eris wasn’t sure why she was doing this, except that she didn’t want to go inside and be alone again.
Mariel stared at her for a moment in evident disbelief. “You want to come?”
“Yes,” Eris breathed, sounding pathetically eager.
Mariel walked over to Eris, her lips pursed. Then, in a single dramatic gesture, she ripped all the buttons from Eris’s silk button-down, revealing the white camisole beneath.