Would’ve been nice if I could, I think with no small amount of annoyance. I certainly didn’t ask for my boy troubles to involve my best friend at Camden’s roommate. “It wasn’t something I could talk to you about. Can you just trust me on this, please?”

“Sure,” she says flatly, pushing at her limp pancake with her fork.

I know I should continue the conversation, change the subject, ask how the rest of the talent show was, but I don’t have the energy. Instead, we sit in silence, her shredding her breakfast into a thousand pieces she doesn’t eat and me grimacing at every sip of bitter coffee, until finally another tray clatters down across from us and Salem slides in. “Well, looks like everyone’s having a stellar morning.”

God, he’s annoying. “Guessing yours didn’t start with your parents calling to let you know they’re bailing on Parents’ Weekend.”

At that, even Sabrina frowns sympathetically. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, I was looking forward to seeing that hair in triplicate,” Salem says with a grin, taking a huge bite out of his omnipresent green apple.

“You would’ve been disappointed anyway. It’s from my dad’s side, and he’s been rocking a shiny head for years now. My mom’s hair’s straight and brown, and my sister got hers—I’m the only freak,” I say sourly.

“So you’ll hang out with our family,” Salem says with a shrug. “We’re all freaks. You’ll fit right in.”

I cut a glance at Sabrina, who might still be mad, but she nods. “Our parents will be thrilled that we managed to make a single friend between the two of us.”

It’s a nice offer, especially since I’m not exactly her favorite person right now, but the only place I want to spend Parents’ Weekend now is locked in my own room. “As much as I’d love to meet the mythical creatures who somehow spawned both of you, I think I’m just gonna sleep through the whole weekend.”

“Okay, that actually sounds much better than hanging out with parents,” says Salem, his teeth piercing the shiny green skin again. “I wanna do that instead.”

“Not a chance.” Sabrina whacks him on the shoulder, and it’s such a sibling move that my heart aches at the sight of what it must look like to have a real one. “But anyway, if you change your mind, just text me.”

“Thanks,” I mutter into my coffee, knowing that there’s no way in hell I’ll be doing that.

As it turns out, when Parents’ Weekend arrives, they text me before I even get to attempt my grand sleep marathon. SOS, Sabrina sends me in a group text with them both. Need you here ASAP.