deeper into my pit.
“I’m so sorry we haven’t talked in forever, my summer internship was brutal,” she said as though reading my mind.
“It’s okay, I was pretty boring all summer anyway. You look great,” I said, taking in her new outfit. Her pretty brown skin was tanner than usual. “Big fan of the curls!”
Amber self-consciously touched her hair, scrunching up a coil with a smile. “Thanks, I was tired of the braids.”
“Makes you look older,” I said with a grin.
She laughed, making a blatant point not to glance at Henry. “How are you?”
What she really meant was, are you finally normal again , so I tried to sound chipper. “Things have gotten better, thanks.”
Sympathy shone in her eyes and I felt a spark of annoyance in my chest. Henry must’ve noticed my twitch.
“And tell us, did you finally end the age-old question of how many cheerleaders it takes to screw in a lightbulb?” Henry asked.
Amber’s glare should’ve caught her ex-boyfriend on fire. They’d dated for a few months last year, breaking up sometime over the course of my depression. Henry would never admit it, but I knew there were hurt feelings on both sides. I winced, hoping we could avoid the fireworks that usually went off when the two of them were in the same room now. I breathed a sigh of relief when she ignored his smirk, her chin going up in defiance.
“I was thinking, Nova,” Amber said, not waiting for my reply, “you should rejoin the party planning committee.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, shifting in my chair. It had been fun last year, but I didn’t want to commit my nights to anyone but myself. I’d much rather be out hunting Fortune than sitting in the school gym making glittery signs.
“There’s a party planning committee?” Penelope asked, her wide gold eyes on Amber. “Forget shopping around, I want to do that!”
“Yes, you should help, too! We plan homecoming and prom. Since I’m in charge of it this year, I’ll make sure you get in.” Amber nodded encouragingly at Penelope, then suddenly brightened as she got a better look at Cole. I barely contained my eye roll.
“Of course spots are going fast,” Henry said in a sarcastic tone. Amber’s face dropped as he spoke. “Everyone’s dying to plan the parties.”
“You should be grateful, Henry,” Amber replied scathingly. “I’m sure you need some stories to write for your little paper. Students love pieces about upcoming events like dances. I believe you were supposed to write a piece about homecoming next month and you decided you were too good for it.”
Henry loved to write for the paper, but I sort of agreed with her there. He tended to obsess over getting only serious and inspiring pieces for the student body. He wanted controversy, true reporting, something that would shake the school newspaper system to its core. He believed we needed to be educated, wanting to include nothing but school board agendas and cafeteria food company contracts.
I often chided him on thinking himself too good for the fun, mindless pieces that saved us from reality. He always responded by shrugging and saying they had plenty of other reporters for things like that. As an editor, however, he probably wouldn’t let a lot of those stories get on the assignment board.
In any case, it meant an even poorer relationship between Henry and Amber. She wanted to plan parties and read gossip or shopping pieces. Since Amber was often in charge of school events, they didn’t see eye to eye. It also didn’t help that Henry had dumped her last spring when he got promoted to editor. In all fairness, he’d had to take on more responsibility, but I also knew her personality. I didn’t recall much about the breakup (after the incident), but when I saw the glare she gave him, I remembered her tendency to hold grudges.
Henry shrugged. “I have an interesting piece for the first issue that doesn’t deal with any
“I’m so sorry we haven’t talked in forever, my summer internship was brutal,” she said as though reading my mind.
“It’s okay, I was pretty boring all summer anyway. You look great,” I said, taking in her new outfit. Her pretty brown skin was tanner than usual. “Big fan of the curls!”
Amber self-consciously touched her hair, scrunching up a coil with a smile. “Thanks, I was tired of the braids.”
“Makes you look older,” I said with a grin.
She laughed, making a blatant point not to glance at Henry. “How are you?”
What she really meant was, are you finally normal again , so I tried to sound chipper. “Things have gotten better, thanks.”
Sympathy shone in her eyes and I felt a spark of annoyance in my chest. Henry must’ve noticed my twitch.
“And tell us, did you finally end the age-old question of how many cheerleaders it takes to screw in a lightbulb?” Henry asked.
Amber’s glare should’ve caught her ex-boyfriend on fire. They’d dated for a few months last year, breaking up sometime over the course of my depression. Henry would never admit it, but I knew there were hurt feelings on both sides. I winced, hoping we could avoid the fireworks that usually went off when the two of them were in the same room now. I breathed a sigh of relief when she ignored his smirk, her chin going up in defiance.
“I was thinking, Nova,” Amber said, not waiting for my reply, “you should rejoin the party planning committee.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, shifting in my chair. It had been fun last year, but I didn’t want to commit my nights to anyone but myself. I’d much rather be out hunting Fortune than sitting in the school gym making glittery signs.
“There’s a party planning committee?” Penelope asked, her wide gold eyes on Amber. “Forget shopping around, I want to do that!”
“Yes, you should help, too! We plan homecoming and prom. Since I’m in charge of it this year, I’ll make sure you get in.” Amber nodded encouragingly at Penelope, then suddenly brightened as she got a better look at Cole. I barely contained my eye roll.
“Of course spots are going fast,” Henry said in a sarcastic tone. Amber’s face dropped as he spoke. “Everyone’s dying to plan the parties.”
“You should be grateful, Henry,” Amber replied scathingly. “I’m sure you need some stories to write for your little paper. Students love pieces about upcoming events like dances. I believe you were supposed to write a piece about homecoming next month and you decided you were too good for it.”
Henry loved to write for the paper, but I sort of agreed with her there. He tended to obsess over getting only serious and inspiring pieces for the student body. He wanted controversy, true reporting, something that would shake the school newspaper system to its core. He believed we needed to be educated, wanting to include nothing but school board agendas and cafeteria food company contracts.
I often chided him on thinking himself too good for the fun, mindless pieces that saved us from reality. He always responded by shrugging and saying they had plenty of other reporters for things like that. As an editor, however, he probably wouldn’t let a lot of those stories get on the assignment board.
In any case, it meant an even poorer relationship between Henry and Amber. She wanted to plan parties and read gossip or shopping pieces. Since Amber was often in charge of school events, they didn’t see eye to eye. It also didn’t help that Henry had dumped her last spring when he got promoted to editor. In all fairness, he’d had to take on more responsibility, but I also knew her personality. I didn’t recall much about the breakup (after the incident), but when I saw the glare she gave him, I remembered her tendency to hold grudges.
Henry shrugged. “I have an interesting piece for the first issue that doesn’t deal with any
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