It was that crossing of the arms that told Imogen this more than anything else. Told her that they were two girls who were never going to get along and were made to fight with each other, almost on a visceral, cellular level. As though the smallest pieces that made up Imogen were diametrically opposed to the tiniest pieces that made up Cool Girl.

“Nobody needed to say anything. There’s a rat here. Dead for a ducat and everything.” Oh God, the Shakespeare had come directly out of her mouth now, but there was no stopping herself. Imogen was finally feeling something, and even if what she was feeling was rage and betrayal, she would use it while she had it. Before she was deflated again, into that awful nothingness that spread outward from her chest and consumed her entirely, in body and soul. Imogen tried to muster a spark of gratitude for the feeling, but she couldn’t. She was rage and rage alone.

Eli, for his part, looked between the two girls like he would do anything to not be involved. Except she could tell, from the way that he was edging closer to Daniella, that he was very, very involved and must have had no way out. He was central to this play, and no matter how many secrets he dealt in to get out of it, he would still remain the focus of this drama. He touched Daniella’s elbow, reaching for it almost absentmindedly, instinctively.

He’d picked his side, then.

“Out with it.” Out, damned spot! Out, I say!

And then Cool Girl made a decision. Imogen watched it as it coated her face. She dropped her arms. And her smile went wide and malicious. “Didn’t you hear? Wild Nights is closing. We are trying to do our best to flip some merchandise and actually help. Rather than shaving our heads and parading our depression all across the storeroom floor.”

This was not the first time that Daniella had wielded the truth like a weapon at Imogen. Wasn’t even the third time. Over the past year of working with Daniella, Imogen had gotten used to the barbs. The way Daniella lashed out at anyone and anything that she had momentary power over. It was a cheap trick, and Imogen spent most of her time ignoring this about Cool Girl.

But this time was different. This time Cool Girl had scored a direct hit.

Imogen ran her hand over her fresh buzz cut to bolster her resolve. She’d had enough. “What did you two do?”

“None of your business,” said Cool Girl.

But Eli chimed in. “She deserves to know.”

Cool Girl shook her head.

But Eli kept going. “I thought I was buying some kicks to flip for a profit. It turns out, they’re fake.”

“So?” Imogen didn’t understand.