That hadn’t really happened, had it? Because surely someone like her hadn’t just called my shirt cool? The other two Ts had no idea who Andy Warhol was, and to be honest, a little flicker of artistic superiority had rushed through me, but Thembi . . . she seemed different somehow. There was something about her I couldn’t put my finger on. I caught one last glimpse of her arm as she closed the door behind her. The warm light from the passage beyond the bathroom seemed to accentuate the gold of her skin for a second. I mentally made a note to try to re-create that color; how much gold would I need to add to brown to get that?

“Teagan has a point, you know?” I heard a flush and looked up as Amber walked out of one of the stalls. Her long blond hair had been fastened on top of her head in a messy bun. The kind that you knew she’d spent hours perfecting in front of the mirror. Just the right amount of mess for Insta-worthy, curated casualness. I’d spent such a long time wishing that girls like Amber would like me. That they would open their arms and invite me into their inner girly sanctums. We would all do our hair and makeup together. Gossip about the guys and get ready to go out to parties. That had never happened, and even though I had my own little, happy clique now, there was still this tiny part of me that craved some kind of affirmation from an Amber. I hate that part of me.

“No one likes soup that much that they put it on a shirt.”

“It’s not about liking soup.” I swallowed.

Her face scrunched up like she was sucking on a lemon. “Then what’s it about?”

“It’s art.”

“Art!” She rolled her eyes. A sense of inferiority swelled inside me. Why did girls like her make me feel this way? And she knew it, because she asserted her dominance even more when she slowly, pointedly dabbed a tissue over the wet mark on her skirt. When she’d sufficiently rubbed my face in it, she crunched the tissue up, and then with a casualness that bordered on utter disdain, threw it at the trash can and then shrugged when it missed and fell to the floor.

“By the way, Lauri,” she said, deliberately mispronouncing my name. “I think you forgot something yesterday. I saved it for you.” She smiled. It was glacial. The kind of smile that would make hell freeze over.

I reached out to take whatever she was giving me, and when I saw what it was, embarrassment plugged my throat closed.

My button.