“Thank you,” I say. “Really. I’ll treasure this.”
“I know you will, Farrah, and you’re more than welcome. Now you girls get some sleep.”
And after blowing me a kiss, Che’s mom slips back out of the bedroom before her daughter reenters. Of course, I know she was never in any danger of being caught, because unlike Brianne Whitman, I know how long Cherish preens before coming out, even once her shower’s done. I know her habits and routines as well as I know my own because we’re close in a way Cherish isn’t with anyone else.
I know something about both Cherish and Brianne Whitman that neither knows about the other, even if it’s as simple as the length of a shower.
Before Cherish comes to bed, I open my phone.
Love you, Mommy, I text.
She’ll hear the sickly sweetness in the written words, if only because of what I have never called her aloud.
My mother is clever, and this is as good as a confession. That I know what she attempted today, and that I’m not only feeling well again.
I’m better.
I am winning.
V
T here’s only a week left of school, and it’s not even a full one. Monday to Thursday—and only for those whose parents haven’t already whisked them off on a first summer vacation.
Yes, academy families tend to vacation in flights. Typically, there’s what I call the Primer, then the Party, and finally the Pièce de Résistance. The Primer involves jet-setting, but usually just to one location, and only for something like a week. It’s perfect for the family who knows their child will need summer tutoring or some manner of coaching, and will have to forgo one or both of the other flights. After the Primer comes the Party circuit, during which people are back in town long enough to gush about where they’ve been and where they’re being dragged to in August. Partiers will appear as though out of a Primer livestream to pop up at a few choice events, and maybe hop over to a music festival with a small group of friends. After which, there’s the Pièce de Résistance. The vacation that’ll dominate all social media accounts, that’ll be something like competitive, obscure-destination hopping.
Two summers ago—when life was as it should be—Cherish and I won.
Yacht selfies off the coast of Ibiza weren’t exactly a strong start with three academy families Primering together in Morocco for eight days, but from Spain, our parents took us to Lamu Island in Kenya, and since no one we know has visited any part of Africa between the northernmost coastline and Johannesburg—no contest. Aside from the stray fake-incredulous comments—“I didn’t know people vacationed in Africa!”—our schoolmates had a pretty difficult time hiding their envy and awe.
There won’t be any Lamu Island this summer, not for my family anyway. No Primer, either, and no use for a Party circuit when there’s nothing bookending it. Which makes the last few days of school an exercise in avoiding holiday talk. For a reigning champion, that’s impossible. Several times just today, I’ve ducked into the restroom or pulled out my phone under the guise of a vibrating notification, because staying quiet isn’t an option. It culls attention. Inspires questions. They might pretend the questions are benign, that they’re only asking where I’m heading over summer break, but I hear what they really mean.
“How are you guys gonna top Kenya?” means Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.
It means The life you thought you had is pretty much over, and we knew it wouldn’t last.
You and Cherish might be sister-friends, but she’s still a Whitman.
In the silence, when someone miraculously doesn’t ask me anything vacation-related, I know that they’re thinking the worst: Living with Cherish won’t make you like her.
In the Humanities Wing break room, the blinds cast a patterned shadow across the round tabletop and my forearms. I’ve tucked myself away in the corner to nurse a glass orb of apple juice during my free period, and I’m happy to be completely alone.
I’m subjecting myself to dinner at my parents’ rented house to confirm what I already know—that they’ve been quietly preparing for a completely new life—and will leverage it to secure an indefinite stay at the Whitmans. I need to run through the scenarios.
In the break room, I’ve been content to sit with the lights off, scrolling through my phone as I open one app and then immediately close it before choosing another. It’s a rigorous and pointless finger exercise, but it leaves my mind free to work out the puzzles without suspicion.
“Hey.” Cherish’s voice infiltrates my cocoon. “There you are.”
“Hey.”
“Having fun in the dark?”
She weaves around the tables as she makes her way to me, her academy blue plaid jumpsuit rolled up to show sheeny brown shins above braided thong sandals. Her sleeves are rolled, too, and her waist is cinched with a thin brown belt, because only Cherish and I have figured out how to make the chimney sweep onesies look good, and with the year basically over, no one will bother dress-coding her for it. It’s the kind of stylish alteration I’d usually be making to one of our uniforms, too. Today I prefer strict adherence to uniformity: knee-length pleated skirt, not rolled up at the waist to shorten it, and instead of my own accessories, I’m sticking to the academy-crest studs and nothing else. Onlookers will likely assume either that I’m striving for near invisibility or else that I’m too somber for creative alterations.
“Looking all good,” Cherish purrs at me, unsurprisingly oblivious.
“Shush,” I say, closing my phone. “How’d you find me?”
“We are one, RahRah. Our hearts beat in tandem.”
I blink.
“Or I’ve been checking all the break rooms, whatever. I need you to hear me out. You have to come with me after school today,” she says, and I start to shake my head because we’ve already been over this. “I knooow, you’re supposed to go see your folks. I’m just saying, Kelly and Tariq—”
“Aren’t going anywhere.”
Cherish winces, almost imperceptibly, before I go on.
“We’ve got all summer; that’s all I meant. Or we hope we do anyway, so I have to see my parents, Che.”
“I know, I just thought maybe an hour. One. To get you all loosened up and relaxed.”
Because that’s what being around Kelly does.
“There’s no way it would be one hour,” I say instead.
“Two hours.”
“Che.” I tighten my expression.
“What if they run off with you?” she says, even though she knows her concern is completely irrational. Her brows are cinching together and she’s fiddling with the rose-gold ring hugging her index finger above the knuckle. “What if they decide today’s the day and they kidnap you off to whatever state your dad’s been in, no warning?”