“We have to get going to pick up Mena.”
Mom frowned. She liked that we were picking up our cousin, but it was warring with her typical-mom need to shove food down our throats. But I knew Harlow couldn’t stomach anything solid until lunchtime—especially when she stayed up half the night doing god knew what on her computer.
Screwing the lid onto her travel mug, Harlow leaned down and gave our mother a kiss on the cheek. The big white headphones hanging around her neck were blaring some EDM shit that became audible as she got close. “Love you,” she croaked.
I cringed internally. Had she been to bed at all?
Hoping to distract our mom from how tired my sister looked, I leaned over and gave her a kiss too. “Love you, Mom. Good luck with the delusion of grandeur.”
She laughed as we headed for the garage. “Is it delusion if the majority of the country knows their name? Have a good day, girls.”
Magda wordlessly pressed a granola bar into my hand as I passed the kitchen, shooting a meaningful look in Harlow’s direction. I gave her a withering smile. I’d try, but no promises.
With a yawn, Harlow dropped into the back seat of my pearlescent white BMW 8, while I smoothed my skirt down and stepped in more carefully to avoid creases.
The garage door silently slid open in front of us, revealing a pair of long legs clad in the same knee-high socks my sister and I were both wearing—white with a teal stripe at the top. Next came a flash of creamy brown-skinned thigh, the skirt length flirting with inappropriate, followed by the top half of the most fabulous bitch I knew.
Our friend Amaya Ellis-Lahari lived one street over and rode to school with us almost every day, even though she had her own car. Us girls liked to stick together. She and Harlow had offered to take turns driving, but I shot that down. I liked to be in control of where I was going and how fast.
Amaya was scrolling through her phone in the middle of the driveway, arms crossed and hip cocked, her designer backpack slung over one shoulder. I started the car and revved the engine, but she completely ignored me, running a hand through her long black hair.
With a smirk, I disengaged the handbrake and revved the engine again, then lurched forward and slammed on the brakes just inches away from Amaya’s ridiculously long legs.
She didn’t even flinch.
I laughed, and she looked at me over the top of her sunglasses and gave me the finger.
After taking her time to shoot off a text, she leisurely slid into the passenger seat. “Meads.”
“Hey, girl.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek as Harlow grunted from the back. As I took off, my sister jammed the headphones over her ears and closed her eyes. Amaya buried her nose in her phone, and I put on some Billie Eilish.
This part of the journey was spent in relative silence, all of us trying to wake up and get ready for the day—especially Harlow.
We drove out of the estates area and took the main road through downtown Devilbend. The homes got smaller, the yards more cramped and untidy. Eventually we pulled up outside of a big, run-down apartment building.
Mena walked up the cracked concrete path and jumped into the back seat.
“Morning!”
Her bright greeting made me smile. That girl had been through some horrific shit at her last school—which is why my parents were paying for her to go to Fulton with us now—but it hadn’t made her bitter or angry. Mena was the kind of person whose inner beauty oozed out of her pores, her energy infectious.
We chatted and sang along to “You Should See Me in a Crown” as I drove us to school. Even Harlow perked up and took her headphones off, the massive coffee she’d finished finally doing its job.
I retraced our path through downtown, passed the turnoff to our neighborhood, and drove up the winding tree-lined road toward Fulton Academy.
Every other day, we got up half an hour early and drove in the exact opposite direction of school to pick up Mena, because she needed someone to show her she was worth it—that she belonged with us. The other days, she took the bus to our house, and we still drove in together.
I parked in a spot near the front. Even with the student parking lot almost full, everyone knew not to park in my spot.
Glancing in