previous afternoon. But this time, they crowded around the counter and gaped at me like I was an adorable puppy in a pet store window.
“Hey!” said Jen, a senior dance team co-captain who used to be in my gymnastics classes. “You did such an awesome job on Hannah and Genevieve’s hair!”
“Oh, yeah, I should open my own salon, huh?” I tried to force a smile, but I knew it was weak. My eyes flitted from one cheerful face to the next. I could feel Ang’s stare boring a hole in the side of my head.
A few of the other girls chimed in, and then they just stood there grinning at me.
“So … can we get something started for you?” I asked.
They all ordered their coffees. Ang was pursing her lips so hard they were turning a little white, but she waited until we were alone before she turned to me. A faint case of nerves made my stomach flutter.
“What in the world is going on?” she asked, her hands on her hips, surveying the room. I saw the insight hit her, and her green eyes went wide. She looked at me with equal parts surprise and accusation. “What did you do, Corinne?”
“I, um, may have gotten rid of some cookies yesterday,” I said, shrinking away from her a little. I started twirling a strand of hair around my index finger.
“To a bunch of Sophie’s friends?” She shook her head. “You did that on purpose. We talked about this.”
“Oh, whatever,” I said. “It was only, like, eight girls. The experiment was your baby, and you ditched me yesterday, so I had to make all the decisions.”
“Eight girls? We don’t even really know what we’re dealing with here, and you’re trying to use it to, I don’t know, get at Sophie or something.” Ang was straining to keep her voice low enough that no one would overhear. “That’s not right at all. That’s what she’d do if she had the pyxis .”
I folded my arms and glared at the floor in front of Ang’s black ballet flats, but I couldn’t help silently acknowledging that I was playing with something I didn’t understand and couldn’t really control. But it wasn’t fair—she should take responsibility. It was all her idea in the first place.
A middle-aged lady was approaching the counter, so I pulled my face into what I hoped was an appropriate expression. But I felt as if my insides were shrinking, and my lungs wouldn’t expand enough to let me take a full breath.
When our shift finally ended, Ang stashed her apron, grabbed her bag, and barely looked at me as she said a terse goodbye. She didn’t even check to make sure I had a ride home from work.
That night, I sent her a bunch of texts, and even left a couple of voice mails, but she wouldn’t talk to me. I tried to distract myself by reading The Great Gatsby for English Lit, but it was hard to concentrate with a cold ball of anxiety rolling around my insides. I’d never gone more than half a day without talking to Ang. I wanted to run over to her house, but I thought it might be better to give her a little more time. Besides, she couldn’t avoid me forever.
I arrived at school early the next morning and sat on the floor in front of the locker I shared with Ang. But the minutes ticked by, and she didn’t show. When the first bell rang, I sent her a text.
Where r u???
I waited as long as I could, and dashed to class just before the late bell. I didn’t see her all day and started to worry. Was Harriet after her, too?
I trailed behind a pack of kids on the way to the coffee shop, threw my bag behind the counter, and searched the place for Ang. With no luck, I finally went over to the café kitchen.
“Hi, sweetheart, how are you doing?” Dad said, barely giving me a glance. He flipped a chicken breast around in a flour mixture and set it in a large metal pan. “I’d give you a hug if I wasn’t covered in flour.”
“I’m good,” I said, realizing it was a complete lie. “How’s your day been?”
“Lots of full tables.” His enthusiasm sounded forced and his
“Hey!” said Jen, a senior dance team co-captain who used to be in my gymnastics classes. “You did such an awesome job on Hannah and Genevieve’s hair!”
“Oh, yeah, I should open my own salon, huh?” I tried to force a smile, but I knew it was weak. My eyes flitted from one cheerful face to the next. I could feel Ang’s stare boring a hole in the side of my head.
A few of the other girls chimed in, and then they just stood there grinning at me.
“So … can we get something started for you?” I asked.
They all ordered their coffees. Ang was pursing her lips so hard they were turning a little white, but she waited until we were alone before she turned to me. A faint case of nerves made my stomach flutter.
“What in the world is going on?” she asked, her hands on her hips, surveying the room. I saw the insight hit her, and her green eyes went wide. She looked at me with equal parts surprise and accusation. “What did you do, Corinne?”
“I, um, may have gotten rid of some cookies yesterday,” I said, shrinking away from her a little. I started twirling a strand of hair around my index finger.
“To a bunch of Sophie’s friends?” She shook her head. “You did that on purpose. We talked about this.”
“Oh, whatever,” I said. “It was only, like, eight girls. The experiment was your baby, and you ditched me yesterday, so I had to make all the decisions.”
“Eight girls? We don’t even really know what we’re dealing with here, and you’re trying to use it to, I don’t know, get at Sophie or something.” Ang was straining to keep her voice low enough that no one would overhear. “That’s not right at all. That’s what she’d do if she had the pyxis .”
I folded my arms and glared at the floor in front of Ang’s black ballet flats, but I couldn’t help silently acknowledging that I was playing with something I didn’t understand and couldn’t really control. But it wasn’t fair—she should take responsibility. It was all her idea in the first place.
A middle-aged lady was approaching the counter, so I pulled my face into what I hoped was an appropriate expression. But I felt as if my insides were shrinking, and my lungs wouldn’t expand enough to let me take a full breath.
When our shift finally ended, Ang stashed her apron, grabbed her bag, and barely looked at me as she said a terse goodbye. She didn’t even check to make sure I had a ride home from work.
That night, I sent her a bunch of texts, and even left a couple of voice mails, but she wouldn’t talk to me. I tried to distract myself by reading The Great Gatsby for English Lit, but it was hard to concentrate with a cold ball of anxiety rolling around my insides. I’d never gone more than half a day without talking to Ang. I wanted to run over to her house, but I thought it might be better to give her a little more time. Besides, she couldn’t avoid me forever.
I arrived at school early the next morning and sat on the floor in front of the locker I shared with Ang. But the minutes ticked by, and she didn’t show. When the first bell rang, I sent her a text.
Where r u???
I waited as long as I could, and dashed to class just before the late bell. I didn’t see her all day and started to worry. Was Harriet after her, too?
I trailed behind a pack of kids on the way to the coffee shop, threw my bag behind the counter, and searched the place for Ang. With no luck, I finally went over to the café kitchen.
“Hi, sweetheart, how are you doing?” Dad said, barely giving me a glance. He flipped a chicken breast around in a flour mixture and set it in a large metal pan. “I’d give you a hug if I wasn’t covered in flour.”
“I’m good,” I said, realizing it was a complete lie. “How’s your day been?”
“Lots of full tables.” His enthusiasm sounded forced and his
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