Page 68 of Faux Real
“My dad he uh—” She sniffles, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “He’s mad that I haven’t started on my college applications yet. He wants me to send him three essays this week so he can proofread them. He hired an editor or something, I don’t know. Fuck...” She buries her face into her hands, her shoulder bouncing with every quiet sob. “I don’t have time to write three essays, Ollie, I don’t. I have to finish planning Homecoming with Max, and I have homework and—”
“It’s okay,” I whisper, sitting down beside her. I hesitate for a brief moment before placing my hand on her back, rubbing up and down, unsure of how to console her. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, shaking her head. “It’s just—” She sighs, expelling a deep breath. “You know, it’s fine, I’ll be fine. I’ll just uh—I’ll make it work.” She sits up straight, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Who needs sleep, right?”
“Umm...humans?” I say, meeting her glossy gaze. “I think it’s unfair for your father to expect you to operate on a robotic level. Just tell him that you can’t write three essays. Start with one. It’s only October, you have plenty of time.”
“I’ll figure it out, I’ll just—” She closes her eyes. “I should probably go and start now, I uh— I’m sorry—”
“But we haven’t finished the movie,” I say, dragging my thumb across her cheek, wiping off her running mascara. “It’s almost over.”
“Okay...” She swallows, her eyelids fluttering open. She nibbles on her pink bottom lip before saying, “But if I stay, you have to take me to Homecoming.”
“Are you bartering with me?” I cock my head to the side, a grin on my face.
“Quid pro quo,” she whispers. “Deal?”
“I don’t dance,” I say. She drives a hard bargain. “And I don’t dress up.”
“But it’s Halloween Homecoming, everyone’s dressing up,” she pouts, batting her damp lashes. “Please? It can be something simple. You can go as like uh— a greaser or um, James Dean or something.”
“James Dean?” I muse with a sly grin. “So you think I resemble a sex god, yeah?”
She rolls her eyes. “Or you just own a leather jacket.”
“Nah, definitely sex god,” I smirk, wiggling my brows. “What are you going as? Are you going to be my Marilyn?”
Kennedy narrows her eyes at me. “You sure know a lot about these people.”
“I have an older sister,” I state with a shrug. “So? What do you say?”
“Well, I was going to go as Audrey Hepburn,” Kenny says, twisting her lips up in thought. “But I guess Marilyn works too.”
“Fantastic, you’ve got yourself a deal, Carmichael,” I say, nodding at the computer. “Now, let’s finish the movie, yeah?”
“What are you getting out of this?” she asks as we settle back against the headboard.
“I don’t like watching movies alone.”
She smiles, her eyes softening. “Me neither,” she says, pressing play. “I’m glad we’re friends now, Ollie.”
“Yeah,” I whisper as she leans her head against my shoulder. “Me too.”
twenty-one
Cats and Claws
KENNEDY
Notgood.Thisisnotgood.
I tap my foot anxiously on the floor as I recount how many pills I have left. Shit. This won’t last until finals. Midterms,maybe. I glance back up at my computer screen to check the time. Crap. It’s already 6 a.m.? There’s no point in sleeping, breakfast starts in an hour anyway. Okay, that’s fine. I’ll just power through the day.
Opening up my email account, I attach three versions of my essay answer and send it off to my dad. I hope he won’t be mad that I didn’t send them last night; eight hours late isn’t a big deal. At least I did it. Of course, I did it. I can do anything.
If there’s a will, there’s a fucking way.
The fall sun shines through my window as I get up and change into leggings and slip on a pair of sneakers. I perch down on Max’s empty bed as I tie my shoelaces. She’s probably still sleeping in her king-sized bed. Lucky bitch.
