Instead of doing that, I stand up and start counting heads, walking slowly around the circle to make sure I don’t miss anyone.

As I’m taking count, Emmitt’s hand shoots out, wrapping around my ankle. I falter, looking at him.

“Surely you can act better than that, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Your smile is as flimsy as this blanket.”

I scowl at him, flicking the back of his head. “Be quiet,” I say under my breath and keep counting.

When I’m done, I say, “And for Manuela?”

Different hands shoot into the air, and I manually count them as well, taking care to walk widely around Emmitt. When I finish, Sofia has won by six votes, and I announce as much.

Rosie grins widely. “Love that for us!”

I tug one of her red curls as I sit down. “Don’t bring out the sparklers.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Rosie huffs, turning away from me. “All right, Mina.”

I blink, slightly taken aback. I didn’t think I said anything bad. “It was just a joke, Rosie.”

Though Rosie won’t look at me, there’s a frown on her face, clear as day. “Was it?”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Yes?”

“Ladies, ladies, let’s not argue,” Grant says, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. I shoot him a dark look, but for the first time, he doesn’t look daunted. “It’s settled, then. Sofia for Vivienne. No need for a catfight.”

“Mind your business, Grant,” I say, and turn back to Rosie. “I was joking, Ro. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Okay,” Rosie says, but she doesn’t sound like she believes me.

My mouth curls unpleasantly. “It was a joke. Come on.”

Rosie doesn’t say anything, and everyone falls silent. It feels like a dozen people are staring holes into the side of my head, and I just... I don’t even understand what just happened here.

Rosie and I have never felt the need to hold back when it comes to each other—what’s a joke between best friends?

The silence continues.

Forbidden. That’s what a joke is, apparently.

“Are you serious right now?” I ask her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a silly little comment.”

Rosie firms her lips, still adamantly silent.

The weight of everyone’s eyes on my skin feels heavier and heavier, as if it’s going to sink me down to the bottom of the East River.

“Jesus Christ,” I say and gather my things, standing up. “Whatever. Sorry again.”

Without another word, I march off, my face burning red. A wave of shame crashes over me, and I feel resentment toward not only the whole situation but also myself.