As Cora has an unhealthy addiction to celebrity gossip, we’ve spent the last ten minutes lingering at this newsstand. “Who?” I ask nonchalantly.
“That guy,” she says, pointing at Jens. Cora never does anything slyly. She’s considers it an affront to her personality to ever act like anything but who she is. “You know. The guy that got his ass handed to him for being a dumbshit.”
Somebody nearby coughs and takes a few steps away. “What?” Cora demands, noticing the elderly Gnome frowning at her. “It’s true, you know.”
The Gnome chooses to leave rather than respond.
Lizzie doesn’t look up from the fashion magazine she’s perusing when she says, “Tact, Cora. It goes a long way, especially in public.”
Cora issues a long-suffering sigh. Lizzie smiles sweetly in return.
“So it’s not just some kind of paranoia?” I ask. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught Jens staring at me. He seems to be everywhere I go lately.
“Nope.” Cora’s gum snaps between her teeth. And then, so loudly that there can be no doubt that he can hear us across the street, “He’s staring, like he’s some kind of perv!”
Lizzie throws her hands up in defeat.
You’d think this outburst would deter him, but it doesn’t. He simply continues to stare at me, like I’m a puzzle or—worse—a madwoman on the verge of snapping and slaughtering the better part of downtown Annar. So when we finally leave, it feels like I’m making a run for it, even though we’re strolling.
My mood is atrocious, thanks in part to yet another headache. “I don’t want to go.”
Cora sighs and puts the dress she’s considering back on the rack. “You have to go. If I have to go, so do you.”
It’s at times like this I’m glad to be around people who aren’t Emotionals. Sometimes, it’s really refreshing to revel in moodiness and not have to worry about it. “I hardly see the logic there.”
“I wish I could go.” Lizzie fingers a purple velvet ball gown. “But Graham’s fraternity is having their annual spring break toga party and I promised I’d go.”
Cora sticks a finger in her mouth and pretends to gag. “Do you hear yourself? A toga party? With a bunch of drunk idiots throwing money at their drinks? Lizzie, promise me right now you aren’t going to wear a sheet.”
Lizzie’s eyes flash hot. “We can’t all wine and dine in the fanciest restaurants in Madrid for our dates.”
These two have been bickering a lot lately, which dismays me. It’s like there’s a constant competition over whose life is better—the one in Annar with the sophisticated boyfriend or the one trying desperately to hold onto some semblance of normalcy on our home plane? I wish Meg was around to even their moods out, but our friend is back in California visiting her parents. I thought once we were all living in Annar, we’d be closer than ever, but it seems like work, classes, and life keep pulling us further apart, be it by centimeters, inches, feet, or miles.
I refuse to let that continue, at least today. “If you two don’t stop, I’m going to get Jonah over here and make you guys literally kiss and make up.”
It’s enough to elicit giggles, sheepish smiles, and the small and murmured kind of apologies only the closest and oldest of friends can give.
Cora pulls another dress off the rack and holds up against her chest. “Chloe, this is one of the biggest parties of the year. Everyone who is anyone in Annar will be there.”
Lizzie looks away, even though she knows she’s invited and welcome.
Neither of them understands my reluctance, which is no surprise, as I can’t find it in me to fill them in on all the details. Too many memories come with the Guard’s annual party. Just last year, I was falling apart over Jonah and doing who knows what with his brother, drunk out of my mind. And now, I’m expected to go with Jonah and smile and laugh and pretend that I didn’t make a giant jackass of myself at the last one.
Cora puts this latest dress back, too. “You never want to hit any of the parties. Or go and do anything nineteen-year-olds do. I swear, you act like you’re ninety.”
“Parties aren’t my thing,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. Thankfully Jonah feels the same way. We’re homebodies, which is how I like it.
Cora huffs and plants her hands on her hips. “Suck it up, girlfriend. You’re coming to this one whether you like it or not.” And then she hands me a red dress, but when she turns her back, I slip it back on the rack.
I won’t ever wear a red dress again.
“Do you think I act like I’m ninety?”
Kellan doesn’t bother looking up at me. We’re at my favorite hot dog stand; he’s putting condiments on his hot dog. Since we started hanging out with one another again a few months back, we make sure we hit up this stand at least once a week. “What does that even mean?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Cora said—”