SAGE: Is everything actually okay?
I type back one-handed:
ME: Still alive. Currently having breakfast.
SAGE: Breakfast with who?
ME: Julian and some of his friends.
SAGE: FRIENDS??? He has FRIENDS??? Tell me EVERYTHING.
ME: Later. I promise. It’s a lot to explain.
SAGE: That sentence has never once been reassuring.
ME: Trust me. Please.
SAGE: I do. But I’m still worried.
SAGE: Call me TONIGHT. No excuses.
ME: I will. Love you.
SAGE: Love you too. Now go be mysterious with your mysterious boyfriend and his mysterious friends.
Elena is watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“The friend,” she says. “The one who texts constantly.”
“Sage. My best friend.”
“She’s worried about you.”
“She’s always worried about me.” I pause. “She actually guessed the vampire thing. As a joke.”
“Humans are perceptive when they want to be.” Elena tilts her head. “Does she know?”
“No. And she won’t.” I look at Julian. “Right? She can’t know.”
“It’s safer if she doesn’t,” he agrees. “For her and for us.”
“So I have to lie to my best friend forever?”
“You protect her by keeping her ignorant.” Sofia’s voice is cold but not in an unkind way. “The truth is a burden. You’ve chosen to carry it. Don’t force it on others.”
It’s the most she’s said directly to me. I nod slowly.
“Okay. I can do that.”
The server brings out our food, and I snap a pic of my breakfast.
The photo is good—the kind of image that usually writes its own caption. Normally I’d have three options drafted by now, tested against my mental database of what performs well.
But my brain keeps short-circuiting.
Option 1: “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day”
— too basic, I’ve used variations of this forty times
