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My gaze lands on the twin goldfish bowls on her desk. “You got us twinfish?”
“Because we might not be at the same school but we’ll always befriends.”
Gratitude washes over me. “Thebest.”
She grabs me in a hug, then we both turn to study the fish. “What should we callthem?”
I cock my head. “Something that speaks to our enduring love. Like… the world may change around us, and we might grow old and die, but we’ll always have thesefish.”
“To be clear, they live fiveyears.”
A lightbulb goes on. “I’ve got it. You want Heathcliff orCathy?”
Pen snorts with laughter. “Oh my God. You takeHeath.”
“Deal.” I grab one of the fishbowls in my arms, and we head toward the dininghall.
“So, are you going to at least talk to Tyler?” Pen asks once we’re outside. “You don’t think he’d tell your dad you’rehere…”
I suck in a shallow breath, adjusting my new pet in my arms. “When Tyler left, he left all of us. Dad would’ve said something the last year if they’d kept intouch.”
“You have to tell your dadeventually.”
“I will. But not yet. I need a chance to show him he was wrong about me, andVanier.”
* * *
By the next morning,I’m learning a few things about my newenvironment.
One, my roommate appears and disappears at all hours of the night. When I went to bed after hanging out with Pen for most of the day, doing homework in the library at Vanier, and finally meeting Elle and some other girls from our floor for a late dinner, there was no sign of her except for her trunk and dolls in ourroom.
When I got up to use the bathroom at 4 a.m., Rae was sprawled across her bed, fully clothed down to her white sneakers, andsnoring.
By eight, when I get up to shower and dress, she’s under thecovers.
I catch a glimpse of her schedule printed and lying on her desk and frown. Apparently, she has Entertainment Management Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with me andElle.
I cross to her bed and prod her shoulder. “You gettingup?”
Nothing.
I shrug and head outside to grab Elle forclass.
The professor is a young woman who reminds me of Miss Norelli from Oakwood except she’s wearing a black blazer over darkjeans.
“In this class, we’ll be talking about how to manage a career. The arts aren’t only about talent. Plenty of talented people will never pay their bills using thoseabilities.”
“So, once I pull down these silver jeans,” Elle says, mimicking the prof’s friendly tone from the seat next to mine, “you can practice kissing my ass. A skill that will serve you well in the years tocome.”
I swallow the laugh and return to takingnotes.
I’m most excited for the remaining two classes—my private music lessons, scheduled with my faculty supervisor on Fridays, and myelective.
I chose a studio acting class, which is Wednesdays. I go to class with Elle, where maybe fifteen students are sitting in desks arranged in asemicircle.
The woman at the front has me lifting mybrows.
She looks like a librarian, with pale hair twisted up in a knot on her head and a printed floral dress. Her face is wrinkled, but her eyes are sharp beneath her readingglasses.
