“Am I being nice to you?” Imogen had to look everywhere but at Rinn.

Rinn’s voice was the steadiest that it had been in the last half hour. “You know you are.”

Imogen began wiping down the water off the sink. She still didn’t look at Rinn, and that gave her the buffer to say the truth. “I don’t know. I guess I always thought you had this perfect life with your perfect social media presence and your perfect hair and your perfect attitude and your perfect happiness and your perfect ability to make friends. You never seemed human. And it turns out you’re just as capable of being cracked as the rest of us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody throw a tantrum by launching books across a bank vault, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Rinn laughed a little—a sad, self-aware sound that stabbed Imogen right in the heart—and then tilted her head to the side. “Of course I do. Everyone has the ability to be cracked. Most people have a hell of a lot going on under the surface. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from building a social media following, it’s that. People reach out all the time, telling me what’s going on in their lives, why they’re struggling with reading. Everyone’s answer is different. But everybody’s got something going on under the surface.”

Rinn reached out for Imogen’s hand. It was the beginning of something small and precious and tentative. An offering of peace. A moment of truce. Or perhaps, friendship. “I think we need to go and find Daniella. And I think we need to talk about Archer Hunt Junior.”

It was a strange request, but Imogen took her hand, and together they both went in search of the coolest girl in the world.

22

The Melancholy Mourner There

2:19 P.M.

Daniella

Daniella was not going to cry. She was done crying. Sure, she felt nauseous. And sure, she felt the pricking sting starting from behind her eyes. But she was not going to cry. Not a single tear, thank you very much. That was just sweat around her eyes because it was so hot out right now.

She leaned against the brick wall, and then slumped down it.

She was fine. She was okay. Everything would be all right.

Daniella reached around her knees, trying to steady herself against herself.

She stretched her fingers out, digging them into the concrete, like that was digging them into the sand at the shore. Like she was at the edge of the lake and she needed to ground herself to keep from drowning.

A cool metal feeling interrupted the sensation of grating, gritty concrete. Daniella looked down.

A half-empty vape pen.