My face clouds over for a moment before I match her expression, my lips curling upward. “What’s the point of asking if I won’t get a straight answer?”

“So dramatic,” she scolds patronizingly. “I guess that’s why you’re the actress of the group.”

Once again, she slips away into the crowd, and I watch her disappear. For whatever reason, that’s my tipping point. I refuse to waste any more time waiting for Zoe to be a good friend. I find Audrey sitting on a bench in the process of removing her skates.

“Hey,” I breathe when I reach her.

“My feet are killing me,” she whines.

“Can we go home?” I ask bluntly. “Like, now?”

Audrey looks at me in surprise. “Really? But the party isn’t over.”

“It is to me.”

Much to my relief, she doesn’t question me, and after catching up with Parker, we leave Rockwell’s far behind us.

09 | Intend

I have trouble sleeping all weekend. By the time Monday morning rolls around, I give up on sleep entirely well before it’s time to get up for school despite how much both my body and mind are begging for rest.

The events of Friday night have been festering more and more each day until it’s all that I’m able to think about, and the image of my friends hiding in the corner of the room has branded itself into my mind.

I knew adjusting to my life would be hard, but I didn’t think everything would be so damn complicated.

On Saturday, Sofia took Audrey, Parker, and me out for dinner to have a proper birthday celebration. Nobody explicitly told her, but she seemed to sense that things at the party had gone awry and that I needed something to make up for it. Even though my cell phone was practically an early birthday present, Sofia made sure to shower me with a ton of smaller gifts. While I may not be comfortable enough to truly consider them family yet, it’s clear they’re trying, and the whole day left me with a tender feeling in my chest.

Yesterday, Audrey helped me set up a new Instagram account. She assumed I wanted one to keep in touch with everyone from school, but really, I wanted a way to look at Zoe’s private account. After opening the app on my phone, I scroll through my timeline, seeing a slew of photos from the party. Zoe posted the one of us in her bedroom mirror, along with a deceivingly heartfelt birthday message, and I glower at the screen, teeth gritting. I don’t want to see her today or put any amount of effort into pretending that I do.