Page 24 of The Black Table
Morgan turns, and seeing my offer, wrinkles her nose, suspicious. “What…is it?”
God, I’m an absolute genius at making friends, I think. “A…cake pop,” I say. “Unicorn.” I fish it out of the bag and demonstrate. “I got the trivia question right at the coffee shop and they insisted I take the prize. I told them I didn’t want it, but…” My gaze drifts to all her mystical, magical trinkets. “I figured maybe you would?”
I don’t fucking know. This is all so stupid. I should’ve just chucked the damn thing in the trash.
But Morgan unwrinkles her nose. She reaches for it, holding the paper stick between impressively lacquered fingertips, and studies it.
“Aww. It’s cute.” And then, she unceremoniously takes a bite, cleaving the thing’s head in two. Something syrupy and red drips from the center, and Morgan claps a hand to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she says. “They put blood in it? That’s…”
“Hopefully fake,” I say, without thinking.
And suddenly we’re both laughing. Morgan even coughs a little, struggling to swallow.
“It’s good, kinda,” she says, frowning. “Pomegranate flavored, or something? Hm.” She polishes off the rest of the poor thing, brushes crumbs from her lips. But this time, she doesn’t go back to her makeup mirror.
“I’m going to the cap tonight,” she says. “Are you?”
I stare at her. “The what?”
“Cap,” she repeats. “Caliburn Academic Parlour?”
I’m still not following. She’s not dressed for anything academic.
“A party,” she explains, at last in plain English. “They’re scheduled every week, ish. A cap or a gap—general assembly ofpersons. Those are more lowkey. Board games and shit. Caps are, like…party parties.” She pauses. “Do you…want to go?” She asks it half-hesitantly, drumming those long nails on her desk, and I can’t tell if she’s just asking to be nice.
“And no, I’m not just asking to be nice.”
“Jesus,” I say sharply. Can she read minds?
But Morgan looks genuinely nonplussed, and I inwardly slap myself on the wrist. BE NORMAL, GWENNA.
Okay, well, what would a normal person do?
As if on cue, my phone buzzes beside me on the bed.
From: Mom
I’m so glad to hear it. Send me photos when you can. Love you.
Fucking hell.
“Earth to Gwenna?” comes Morgan’s voice. “Party?”
“Sure,” I hear myself say. “I…love parties. I mean caps.”
Who, actually,amI right now?
My fingers tense in the bedspread, almost involuntary, and I force them to relax.
I’m Gwenna. Normal Gwenna. Happy Gwenna. Enjoying-her-time-and-not-struggling-at-all Gwenna.
Gwenna who goes to parties.
Right?
Morgan laughs. No,cackles,almost. “You’re a very bad liar, did you know that? But I’ll believe you.” She shakes her endless wavy hair out and surveys me up and down. “Do you have anything…else to wear?” she asks, biting her lip.
