7. Maddison

Maddison

N ever in a million years did I think I’d be sitting in a cab, driving up the paved road that leads to the castle-esque building I’ve seen from a distance but never up close. And up close, it’s breathtaking, with towers, ivory columns, and a gated entrance. Just behind that is an expansive stairway that stretches up to the entrance of the school, and peaking up toward the sky is the widest set of doors I’ve ever seen.

And don’t even get me started on the landscape, with grass and trees so flourishing they look artificial. Benches line the quad, along with statues and fountains, and the parking lot looks straight out of some fancy car show—every vehicle probably costs six figures. I’m quite literally the only person rolling up in a taxi, and the only reason I could afford that was because I was able to work an extra shift yesterday, and my boss gave me an advance. I would’ve preferred the bus, but it’s a three-mile walk from the nearest bus stop to here, and while I’m up for that kind of walk any other day, I didn’t want to haul all of my luggage. Moving forward, though, I’ll have to because I’m still working weekends at my old job. But honestly, I can just run to the bus stop, which will help me keep in shape for tryouts.

After signing the contract to attend here, I did more research and discovered they have walk-ons for the cross country and the track team as long as I can make time, which I should be able to. I just need to get into excellent shape, more than I already am.

“Are you sure you’re at the right place?” the cab driver asks as he parks the cab in front of the curb at the gated entrance. He’s a younger guy with a scruffy beard and tattoos on his knuckles, and he smells of old cheese for some reason.

“Yep,” I reply evasively, wondering how bad this will be if even the cab driver thinks I don’t belong here.

What the hell are the people who go here going to think?

I mean, I’m trying not to judge, but I have this feeling I’m going to draw attention, and not in a positive way. Not that I give a crap. If I can survive northside, my mom and my dad, then I sure as heck can survive going to a school with a bunch of rich kids. I have to if I want to get to a better place in my life.

I slide the strap of my backpack onto my shoulder then dig my card out of my pocket to pay the driver. Once the transaction is complete, I collect my other two bags, shove open the door, and move to get out.

“Good luck,” the driver says snidely as I lower my feet to the pavement.

I resist an eye roll and climb out without responding. The moment I bump the door shut, he drives away, and I’m left standing at the gated entrance, staring up at the stairway on the other side.

I’m fairly early, so not too many people are around, but I immediately get confirmation on my original speculation that I’ll draw attention.

I have a pair of sunglasses on, my hair is down in waves and swept to the side, and my gray top reaches mid-stomach. My wide-leg jeans are in style and everything, but they’re also frayed at the bottom, and my platform sneakers are faded. I don’t think I look bad or anything, but the people around me are dressed in nice, expensive clothes, and it’s evident that I don’t fit in here.

But, like I said before, I’m not backing out of this deal. So, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I step onto the sidewalk and head toward the iron gate. Between the three bags I’m hauling around, I struggle to get up the stairs.

“You look like you could use some help.” The upbeat voice carries a hint of amusement in it.

When I glance up to see who spoke to me, I immediately grimace.

Finn—aka, the blond guy I saw in jail—is standing a step above me, looking like some sort of Greek god with the sunlight casting across his back and creating a halo of light around him.

Great. The last thing I need is for some guy who saw me in jail to be here, talking to me. Not that I’m that surprised. Even when he was in jail, wealth flowed off this guy.

“I’m good,” I assure him, resisting another eye roll when he grins at me.

I start up the stairs again, trying to look more relaxed than I feel.

The dude turns and follows me. “You don’t look like you’re good. In fact, you look like your legs are going to buckle.” He reaches for one of my bags. “Here, just let me help.”

“Hard pass, dude,” I say as I sidestep him. Then I narrow my eyes. “And don’t just grab my shit without me giving you permission.”

Usually, when I throw attitude at someone like this, they get annoyed. Nope, Finn’s smile broadens as he flashes me his pearly whites.

“All right, fair enough,” he says while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Before he can open his mouth again, I start walking up the stairs, and much to my dismay, he follows. I try to ignore him, but he’s intent on running his mouth.

“You know,” he says as we near the top of the stairs, “after our first meeting, I honestly thought we’d never see each other again. I guess wishes do come true.”

I throw him a gaping look. “Are you for real right now?”

“What?” He bats his eyelashes innocently at me. “I’m just telling the truth. The night after we met, I made a wish on a shooting star that I’d get to see the beautiful jail girl at least one more time.”

“Oh my God, please, do not call me that,” I hiss under my breath.

Too many people are already staring at me. The last thing I need is for word to get out that I was in jail a handful of days ago.

“No one’s going to care that you’ve been in jail. But if you want me to keep it a secret, I will.” He gives a short pause. “Although, I’m curious why you were in there.”

“Why? Because I look like someone who’s never been arrested?” I reply, my voice oozing sarcasm.

He chuckles. “Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to answer that question. It’s like walking straight into a trap.” He scratches his wrist. He’s wearing a watch that looks like it costs five times as much as everything I own, if not more. “I’m honestly just curious as to why you were there.”

We reach the top of the stairs, and I dig out my phone to open the map I downloaded of the school. “Why were you there?” I challenge, flicking a glance in his direction.

His smile is all Cheshire cat. “I’ll show mine if you show me yours.”

“Hard pass.” I direct my attention to my phone and the map on the screen. It’s overwhelming to look at, with all the paths of sidewalks, the roads, the hallways, the corridors.

“I can show you around, if you need me to,” Finn offers then extends his hand toward me. “I’m Finn, by the way.”

I don’t take his offered hand. “I know.”

A crease forms between his brows. “How do you know?”

“I heard your brother call you that while you guys were in the jail cell.” I chew on my bottom lip, considering his offer.

Letting him show me around wouldn’t be too awful, right? Except, it would. I don’t want him to think he could use me as a mistress or knock me up and bail. Not that I think all of them are that way, but I’m not about to risk it. Plus, I have this rule where I avoid guys in general. The last thing I want is to end up like my mother—pregnant at eighteen and dropping out of school.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Adjusting the handle of one of my bags higher onto my shoulder, I hurry forward down the sidewalk and toward the entrance. Thankfully, he takes the hint and doesn’t follow me.

People continue to gawk as I climb higher, finally reaching the set of double doors. I pull one open, and hell, it’s heavy. Like, what are they expecting to happen here? A tornado to blaze through? We’re so in the wrong kind of area for that.

It swings shut with a loud thud as I step inside, and the noise carries down the spacious hallway and bounces against the domed, cathedral-like ceiling. A handful of people turn to look at me, their eyes sweeping up and down my outfit. I offer them a sugary-sweet smile, and one of the girls blasts with a nasty look, flips her long, auburn hair off her shoulder, and turns her nose into the air.

I’m getting some Mean Girls vibes here, but every school has them. My old school had a Mean Guys group, and they were the worst.

Turning away from the group, I make my way down the hallway until I reach the main office. It’s probably the plainest of entrances, but that doesn’t mean it’s plain. It is a wide, arched brick doorway and above it, engraved in the brick is, “ The Main Office of the Royal Academy ,” and just above that is a golden crown carved of sparkling metal—the school crest.

Sucking in a breath, I enter through the doorway and step into the room. A handful of tables are close by, with chairs surrounding them. A few are occupied with students doing something on computers. The sounds of clicking keyboards flit through the air, but other than that, the air is silent. It’s kind of unnerving and something I’m not used to since my old school was always filled with shouting, slamming, and other noises that indicated yet another fight.

Everyone appears content, though, and extremely focused?—

“Can I help you?” A voice cuts through my thoughts.

When I glance at the front of the room, where a long counter is, an older woman with dark brown hair and glasses is looking at me with a curious expression.

“Um … Hey.” I hurry up to the counter. “I think I’m supposed to check in here and get a key to my dorm room. I was a late enrollment.”

Again, her curiosity is evident as she glances me over, but she doesn’t sound rude as she turns to the computer and asks, “What’s your name, dear?”

“Maddison Averly.” I set one of my bags down, my shoulder aching from the weight.

“Ah, yes, you’re the scholarship student,” she replies as she clicks the keys. “This is the first year the academy is allowing that, and it’s a much-needed change.” She offers me a smile. “I’m sure you’re going to love it here, and while it might seem intimidating, don’t let some of the more”—she wavers as she reaches for a booklet—“intense students scare you off. There’s some nice ones here, as well.”

I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks for the advice.”

She’s nicer than I expected, and I’m glad. Hopefully, what she said is true. I’d like to think so, but I’m wary, considering everyone has been staring at me since I stepped out of that cab. Although, that Finn guy seemed nice enough. Flirty, but not a total asshat.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She offers me a smile that makes me believe she doesn’t quite believe that. Then she sets a pamphlet down. “This has a QR code that you can use to access all the information about the school that’s not already online. It also has a map in case you want to go old-school. And you should now be able to access the scan code to your dorm room from your school account.” She adjusts her glasses. “You do have a roommate, but the bedrooms are separated by a sitting area, and you also have your own bathroom attached to the bedroom.”

I blink at her. “How big are these rooms?”

“Pretty big,” she tells me then leans forward and whispers, “I grew up on the northside, too, so fair warning: everything here will seem way bigger and way more extravagant than you’re used to. And you probably won’t ever get used to it, but it can be a good thing. It keeps you level-headed.”

I nod in agreement then collect the pamphlet. “Thanks.”

“Again, you’re welcome.” She smiles. “Your room is in The Crystal Hallway, and you’re in the Purple Crown Room.”

Releasing an uneven breath, I nod, give her a small wave, then turn around and start my journey toward my room. As I walk, I unfold the map, figuring I don’t mind old-school because old-school has been my life, considering the only systems my school had that were considered modern were the security cameras, and half of those didn’t even work.

I like having the map open, anyway, because it gives me a distraction from all the staring and whispering. Thankfully, not many students are flooding the hallways yet, but I can tell when classes start tomorrow, my life could end up being a living hell. Not that I’ll give this up. No, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—I realize that now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I arrive at the Purple Crown Room—the door has a purple crown emblem on it. Music is filtering from the inside. I think it might be a Taylor Swift song. Not that I’m that familiar with her music, but it’s always playing on the radio.

Tucking the map underneath my arm, I upload the scan code and put it in front of the scanner below the door handle. The door clicks unlocked and, telling myself that I’ve got this, even though I’m unsure if I do, I push the door open. I’m immediately blasted by the loudness of the music, along with a girl singing in the perfect pitch.

I peer around the room, wondering why I can hear but not see her.

Walking over the threshold, I kick the door shut and clutch the handles of my bags as I absorb my new home for the following year. It’s bigger than the house I grew up in, with a roomy living room decorated with velvet sofas, rugs, a few end tables, and a corner fireplace. Just behind all that is a kitchen with all the fixings, including a counter area, sink, cupboard, a stove and microwave, and a table is adjacent to that. The walls are painted the prettiest shade of purple, probably to match the room’s name?—

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize you were in here.” The girl, who more than likely was the one singing, suddenly materialized in the doorway to my right.

She has blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail, her eyes are smoky, her lips are lined, and she’s wearing a pair of wide-legged pants and a crop top with a high neck. She’s also rocking diamond earrings and a matching bracelet. Everything about her screams wealth, but what else was I expecting?

She holds up a finger. “Just a second. Let me turn the music down.” She disappears back into the room. A moment later, the music turns off, shuffling follows, and then she returns to the doorway, this time walking all the way through and approaching me with her hand outstretched. “I’m guessing you’re my new roommate. My name’s Lillian. Everyone calls me Lily, though, and I’m so glad because my mother’s name is Lillian, and it’s just … who wants to be called their mother’s name, right?”

So, she’s a talker. I also can’t remember the last time I shook someone’s hand. Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, though, I shake her hand.

“My name’s Maddison, but everyone calls me Maddy. Not because I’m named after my mom. People just started calling me that in kindergarten.” I lower my hand to the side and adjust my weight as she observes me. I can tell her wheels are turning as she takes in my worn jeans, shirt, and boots, so before she can say anything, I add, “I’m a scholarship student. You can probably tell that.”

“Yeah, I can, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing or anything like that.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear while scratching her arm. “I think it’s great the academy is bringing in other students besides the stuck-up snobs that go here. Not that I’m one,” she quickly adds. “I promise I won’t judge or anything like that. In fact, I’m excited to spend time with someone from the northside …” She trails off, shaking her head and sighing. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous. I don’t do well in new social situations. I’ve been working on it in therapy for years, but still suck at it.” She sighs again. “And now I’m oversharing again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I don’t necessarily struggle in social situations, but I’m not a very social person either, so maybe we’ll click.”

She smiles at that, and it seems genuine. “I think we will. I can feel it.” Her eyes light up. “Oh, and I can show you around if you want me to. I’m a freshman, too, but my brothers started here last year, and I would sometimes come hang out with them on weekends, so I learned where everything is—the dining hall, the library, the athlete room, the dessert room?—”

“The dessert room?” I cut her off. “What the heck is that?”

She softly chuckles. “It’s a room where you can order any dessert you can think of. We can go later if you want. I just need to finish unpacking.”

“Yeah, I should get my stuff put away, too.” I pat my bag that’s draped over my shoulder. “But I’m so curious to see this dessert room.”

Excitement lights up her face and makes me question if she has any friends. She says she doesn’t do well in new social situations, so there could be a possibility that she doesn’t.

“Sweet—no pun intended.” She laughs, and I do, too. “Your room’s right there.” She points to a lavender door just behind me. “It should only take me about five more—” Her eyes dart to the entrance door, and she groans. “Are you seriously coming to check on me already? We’ve only been here like an hour?”

“I came to make sure that all of your stuff arrived,” a male voice floats over my shoulder. “And to also ensure you’re aware that orientation is today.”

“Yes, and yes,” she replies dramatically. “I’m not incompetent.”

I twist around to see who she’s talking to and do a sort of dumbass double-take. But I can’t help it. It’s River, the guy who was in jail with Finn.

He looks marginally less intense than he did in the cell, but he’s not wearing his leather jacket and almost all-black outfit. Instead, he’s sporting a dark pair of pants, a gray button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red tie.

Is this how everyone dresses here? In nice clothes? Because I’m so screwed if that’s true.

Part of me wonders if he’ll recognize me. After all, we only saw each other in jail. Sure, Finn did, but River didn’t interact with me. But when he notes my face, he blinks twice, letting me know that he does.

“I don’t think you are,” River says while looking at me, but he’s talking to Lily.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Lily mumbles, then adds in a more upbeat tone, “Oh, this is my roommate, Maddy.” She moves up beside me. “Or, well, Maddison, but everyone calls her Maddy. And Maddy, this is my brother, River.” She gestures at him.

He eyes me over in a scrutinizing way. “Yeah, we’ve already met.”

“Really?” she wonders. “Like in the hallway?”

“No.” He stares at me for a beat longer. “When I went to northside the other night with Finn.” He tears his gaze off me and focuses on Lily while massaging the back of his neck. “She gave us directions.”

Ah, so that’s where the nervous body movement is coming from. He doesn’t want his sister to know he was in jail.

“Yeah,” I play along but decide to mess with him. “He actually hit me with his car.”

His attention snaps to me while Lily goes, “ What ?”

“Don’t worry; it was just a little bump.” I give a dismissive shrug, and he glares at me. “He bumped into me while I was stepping off the curb. It was dark, though, and it was barely a tap.”

“Are you okay?” she asks me with wide eyes.

I feel bad for lying to her, but River started it. “I’m perfectly okay,” I promise her. “It didn’t even leave a bruise.”

Her eyes remain wide as she bobs her head up and down. Then she flicks a dirty look at her brother. “You seriously need to be more careful when you’re driving, River. I know you like to race, but save it for the track.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“Not try . Do ,” she stresses firmly. With that, she turns away from him. “One of the movers delivered a box of yours to my room by mistake. Let me grab it.” She walks away and into her room.

River immediately hisses, “Why the hell did you lie to her?”

I lift my brow. “Why the hell did you lie to her? Because I was just rolling with your lie.”

His eyes darken. “You didn’t have to add the part about the car.”

“And you didn’t have to lie to her in the first place,” I quip. “So, maybe you should just tell her the truth.”

“I don’t want her knowing I was in jail,” he stresses while fiddling with his tie.

“Why?” I wonder curiously.

“Because,” is all he says. Then he shifts his weight, giving me a once-over. “Why are you even here, anyway?”

“Why are you here?” I throw back at him.

He stares at me for a beat. “Because my father forced me to go.”

“Well, I didn’t get forced by anyone to go here,” I tell him. “And I’m sure you can put two and two together and figure out that I’m a scholarship student, considering I’m pretty sure you overheard my conversation on the phone with my mother about my finances.” I know he did because he and Finn looked at me with pity in their eyes after I was done, which is daunting right now since he appears only to be annoyed with me.

“How did you get the scholarship?” he asks. “That’s not typical for here. Usually, they don’t even allow that sort of thing.”

His comment irks me, as if I shouldn’t be allowed to go here.

“Oh, you know, I did the normal thing any northside girl does to get what she wants,” I say in a sugary-sweet tone. “I slept with a bunch of rich dudes until I could convince one to pay my tuition. It was really exhausting, let me tell you, because I had to wait around for all of that Viagra to kick in.”

He gives me a dumb sort of look that is so gratifying. Then, as an extra bonus, his sister returns then, so the conversation ends on that note.

“Here’s your box.” She presents it to him as if handing him a Christmas present.

A few items are sticking out of it. They appear to be trophies with a metal running man at the top.

Wait … Is River a runner?

Ugh, does that mean if I make the cross-country team, I’ll have to see him on a daily basis? Blah, even if he is cute. Then again, he’s my roommate’s brother, so crossing paths with him will be inevitable.

He frowns at the box. “I don’t know why Mom thinks I need to bring my trophies to school.”

“Maybe as a reminder of how awesome you are?” she suggests with a shrug.

“Doubtful,” he mutters, and I sense some tension in that statement. Shaking his head, he clears his expression and focuses on his sister. “Don’t be late for orientation.” He flicks a glance at me before leaving the room.

Lily huffs out a dramatic breath before turning to me. “Sorry about that. He can be so moody sometimes.”

“No worries.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No. Sometimes I wish I did, though.”

“I wouldn’t wish that hard,” she informs me. “Okay, well, maybe having siblings isn’t so bad, but having three older brothers sucks big time.”

“You have three older brothers?” I ask with wide eyes.

She bobs her head up and down. “Yep. River, River’s twin, Finn, and then I have a stepbrother, Noah, who’s the same age as my brothers.”

“Seriously?” I ask, and she nods. “And you’re only a year younger than your brothers?”

She nods again and shifts her weight. “Things were kind of crazy when we were younger. I felt bad for our nanny.”

I was my own nanny growing up, but I’m not about to share that with her.

“I bet.” As the weight of my bags begins to cause my shoulder to ache, I shift my weight. “So, what’s this about an orientation?”

“It’s a thing we’re required to go to. Basically, from what I understand, it’ll be an hour of listening to the dean yammer about how amazing this academic year will be and the standards we’re supposed to uphold. She’ll also give information on clubs and sports.”

“Really?” I perk up at that.

“Are you interested in something?”

“Cross-country and track. I had a scholarship to the Royal City Community College.” I pause, debating whether to tell her I lost that, but then decide against it. She seems nice enough and everything, but I barely know her. And I have trust issues—I’ve known that for a while. “But then I got the scholarship here, and this is a way better school.”

“Is it?” she mumbles then puts a smile back on her face. “Well, you’re in luck because we have one of the best coaches in the country. River was actually on the team last year. He’s been running since he was a kid.” An odd look crosses her face, almost as if the memory makes her sad, but why? “But, anyway, River’s on the cross country and track teams, and Finn is the quarterback for the football team. Sports here are highly competitive, but maybe I could ask one of them to give you some pointers.”

“Maybe.” I pause. “I think I should probably ask Finn, though.”

Her head angles to the side. “Have you met him?”

I nod. “And he seems nicer than River. No offense. I know he’s your brother.”

“River’s intense, I know. And I get that he can be an asshole, but he has it rough.” She pulls a whoops face, as if she didn’t mean to say that aloud. “But, if you can become his friend, he’s a ride-or-die kind of person.”

A ride-or-die kind of person, huh? Doesn’t seem like he is, but what the heck do I know? I barely have any friends.

“Okay, I’ll try to see past the assholery,” I assure, but deep down, I doubt I’ll be able to.

She smiles. “Awesome … If you want to get ready for orientation, we can walk there together, if you want.”

“Sounds good.” I make my way over to the door that leads to my bedroom, half my mind on the idea of asking River for help and the other half stuck on what I overheard about the attire requirement for this orientation thing. Should I change? Do I even own anything nice?

My thoughts laugh at me. What am I going to wear? My nice pair of jeans?

“Holy crap,” I whisper at the sight of probably the nicest room I’ve ever stepped foot in.

As soon as my foot steps into my new room, all my attention gets locked in on the space before me—purple and black wallpaper, a crystal chandelier, a four-poster bed decorated with an amount of velvety pillows no one in the world would ever need. The floor is partially covered with a rug, a dresser in the corner, and a fireplace is on the farthest wall. It also has a closet and bathroom.

I let my bags fall to the floor with a thump as I enter further and turn in a circle, taking everything in—the photos on the wall, the crown painted on the arched ceiling, and the window with a view of the land, forest, paths, and statues, along with a massive, shiny domed stadium where the track is slightly visible.

I exhale a breath as I stare out at it. I always dreamed of running on the track team in college. I just need to make the team. I’ll admit I looked up PR times for last year, and I have my work cut out of me.

I might end up getting desperate enough to ask for River’s help. Whether he will or not is an entirely different story. Plus, could he even help me that much? He did have trophies in that box, but still …

I dig out my phone and pull up the PR list online. Then I search for his name, and my jaw nearly bitch-slaps the floor.

Yep, he could help me. At least he’s fast enough that he probably has some pointers.

“Good God, that’s fast.” I stare at his records for a while before pocketing my phone. Then I head to my bags so I can unpack.

Ten minutes later, I have everything put away, and it’s clear the closet has too much space for my stuff. Still, I feel this weird sensation in my chest, almost as if I could be happy, maybe, just maybe. Then my phone buzzes, and I’m reminded that while I might have temporarily left northside, that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been part of me for my entire life.

Hannah: Hey, babe. I’m still on the road trip, but Will heard a rumor that Drew is looking for you and that there’s a whisper put out on you. Please tell me you’re okay.

I grit my teeth as I read the text. A whisper is a discreet word northside uses to let everyone know a bounty has been put on someone. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to kill me, but it won’t be pretty if they catch me. In fact, I know what they will do—they’ll beat me up then probably make me either sell drugs or whore myself out to pay for what my father’s done.

Suddenly, I’m even more grateful to be at the academy because, besides the people involved in my scholarship, no one else knows where I am.

I chew on my thumbnail as worry stirs inside me. What if someone does find out? I don’t see how they would, but it could happen.

Just take a deep breath, Maddy. If you can get through your childhood, you can get through this.

I send Hannah a reply.

Me: I’m good. Just hiding out for a while. I’ll keep you posted.

Hannah: I’m so glad. I was so worried. If you need anything, please ask. I know it’s not your style, but I want to help.

I won’t ask her for help because it’s not my style, and it’s not her style either. Hannah is wild as hell, and I’m not. To be honest, I think part of the reason we still talk to each other is because we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re not close anymore, haven’t been since she started dating Will, who’s a total wanna-be badass. It’s so annoying.

“Hey.” Lily pokes her head into her room, startling me. “I don’t want to interrupt your unpacking or anything, but I wanted to see if maybe you needed help picking out something to wear.” She crosses her arms. “I mean, you can totally wear what you have on, but I’d feel like the worst roommate ever if I didn’t let you in on the unsaid dress code for these types of things. It’s never required to dress a specific way to events. However, we’ll be judged—we’re always judged.”

“Thanks for the tip.” I stand up and toss my phone onto my bed. “I’m not a nice outfit sort of girl, so I don’t know if I have anything, but I’ll see what I can find.”

I step into the closet and start sifting through the clothes that I hung up. “I have a dress,” I call out. “But that’s about it.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” I exit the closet with the plaid, thin-strapped dress in my hands. It reaches just above my knees, but the top shows a lot of skin. “I’m not sure if it’ll work or not.”

“It’s super cute, but …” She taps her finger against her lip. “Maybe if you wore a fitted T-shirt underneath it? Do you have one?”

“I have a black one.”

“That’ll look so cute.”

“Am I trying to look cute?”

“Cute and classy.”

Her outfit does fit into those categories.

“What about tights?” she asks, assessing the dress as if she’s visualizing the finished outfit.

I shake my head. “Nah, I don’t own any. Never have.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen as I shake my head again. She considers this then asks, “Do you want to borrow a pair of mine?”

Tights sound like an awful, itchy thing to wear, but again, I want to attempt to do well here, so I nod and tell her, “Sure. Thanks.”

Her smile widens, and then she exits the room. A moment later, she returns with a pair of knee-high tights. Then she leaves so I can change.

The outfit is cute, but I feel odd, like I’m playing dress-up. So, I decide to slip my leather jacket on. While I want to fit in, I don’t want to lose my identity.

I am who I am, and it’s something I’ve always lived by.

I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.