Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,5

(what a disaster that was—do not ask). I held on to a bunch of silk flowers I swiped from the dining room table, holding up my other hand like a beauty queen waving, with her dirty and intense date glowering behind her.

I amuse myself. But if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

We’re still not moving, but it’s only going to be a few more minutes before the convention center doors open officially.

I text Siggy again, then crane my neck around, looking for her white-blonde head.

“She should have spent the night with us.” Imani says what I’m thinking.

“I tried, but she was with Mark.”

“I know. I should have insisted, I’m sorry.” Imani is the benevolent ruler of our trio. If Imani wants something, she usually gets it. All she has to do is turn the full power of her smile on you, and yeah. Goner.

“I mean, that would have worked,” I say. “Swear to God, Imani, I don’t know why you don’t use your powers of persuasion more.”

I place a hand over my heart in a solemn vow. “If I had your skills, I would talk Mrs. Casey into passing me.”

“That’s wrong, June!” Imani is laughing, but this is it: the taproot of who she is. Imani is Principled. She believes in making a better world, in making fairer rules, and she believes in the supreme power of hard work above everything.

Me? I believe in the supreme power of accepting your limitations, and adjusting your target accordingly.

Imani’s an older sister, too, so that’s in there. She’s always been the responsible one, especially compared to her kid sister, Tishala, who is in the eighth grade. Tishala is impulsive, hilarious, and a total pest.

Obviously, Imani loves her lots. Even when Tishala breaks into Imani’s makeup. Right now, Tishala is completely into doing these epic fantasy and sci-fi photo shoots, most often with herself as the model, although she’s used Imani and even me sometimes. And she’s into special effects makeup (as long as it’s beautiful. She’s not into zombies or gore, which is why she didn’t pester us to come to the con, thank goodness).

My older sister, Summer, went to college last year, and my parents’ single-minded focus on me ever since has been . . . well, it’s been a lot.

Tishala’s gonna have a big adjustment next year when Imani goes to college, let me tell you. I don’t know if she realizes how much Imani does for her.

“You can’t just talk someone into passing you,” Imani says as we take a step forward.

“It would be for the greater good!” I argue. “Trust me, Mrs. Casey is as sick of explaining quadratic equations as I am of never understanding them.”

This is my second time in Mrs. Casey’s class. It’s exhausting having a learning disability and trying to make everyone see that I’m never going to “get it” no matter how “close” it looks like I am.

Or that it doesn’t matter how many times I take the SAT. I’m just going to psych myself out; clench up; get that old familiar feeling; hello, anxiety, my old friend; and just . . .

Whiff. Spectacularly. And extra time to take the test won’t fix that. No accomodations can.

I glance at my phone again. The doors will open in just a few minutes.

Imani notices my glance at the time.

“Siggy’ll be here,” she says. “Any minute now. Mark will probably drop her off at the circle, right when we get there.”

Annoying Mark. Annoying Mark Carson. Annoying Mark Annoying Carson.

He’s okay, if you have to deal with boyfriends, I guess.

“If I’m being honest, I wanted to have you to myself,” Imani says, with that sly side-smile that makes it feel like the sun is rising in my heart.

“I liked that, too,” I say, and there it is, my doofiest smile, the one where I tip my chin unconsciously, giving myself jowls and creepy eyes. This is not a smile I ever intend to unleash, which is why I generally only know I’ve done it when I