Group Chat
Team Chaos
Paige:Alright, brood-master-general. We are assembled. The troops are liquored up on questionable punch, and Rissa is trying to teach the rookies how to fold a napkin into a swan using only her teeth. Status report.
Skye:I’m with Keisha. She just fell asleep. Quiet here.
Rissa:IT’S A SWAN, PAIGE! AN ELEGANT CREATURE OF GRACE!
Rissa:And another thing… I think I swallowed a sequin from my top. Do you think it’ll pass through my system or become part of my soul’s eternal shimmer?
Riley:The sequin is a sign. A tiny omen. And I’m sensing Skye’s aunt’s favorite nurse is named Nora, and she brings her extra Jell-O cups.
Skye:…her name is Nora.
Paige:Riley, it freaks me out when you pull that psychic shit. And Skye, you totally have a type. Broody women named Nora. Now for important business… the pre-flight meal. Do we risk the airport pasta or commit fully to a family-sized bag of pretzels each?
Rissa:Carbs are a necessity.
Skye:Eat both. You’ll need the fuel. Film session on the plane. Swiss defensive formations.
Paige:Wow, fun sucker. Can’t we watch a movie and pretend we’re normal people going on a normal trip and not elite athletes marching toward potential glory/public humiliation?
Riley:The sky spirits say the movie will make Rissa cry so hard she dehydrates herself, and we have to give her our water.
Rissa:LIES. I have a HEART. It feels things. Unlike some people who have a frozen puck where their soul should be. *Cough*Skye *cough*.
Skye:My soul is fine. No tears until after we win.
Rissa:No promises. But we’ll save you some questionable punch. Tell your aunt we said hi and that Nora has kind eyes.
Riley:Manifesting restful sleep for her! And for me! And for the swan Rissa made.
Rissa:THE SWAN IS LOOKING AT ME!
[Skye has set notifications to Do Not Disturb]
Paige:And she’s gone. Back to our regularly scheduled programming. Who wants to bet Riley can actually guess the number of pretzels in the giant bags?
Rissa:I BELIEVE IN HER! Also, I found more sequins.
Chapter Three
Violet
Leah steps around me, struggling to get her clothes on and acting like I’m going to punch her in the nose if she gets too close.
I’d love to, trust me, but I don’t think showing up to the Olympics in handcuffs would be good for my reputation.
Her auburn hair is wrecked, her pink lipstick is smeared, and her dark eye makeup is running down her cheeks from the tears that have been spilling since I walked through the door.
She’s whispering empty apologies as she makes her way to the front of the house, and I watch as Theo stands tall in front of me, not bothering to cover himself up. It’s like he’s ready to take whatever I’m about to throw at him.
My hand slips into my jacket and palms my worry stone, rubbing it like a fucking genie is going to pop out.
The click of the door behind me is like the fuse of a bomb running out, and I lay into the sleaze standing in front of me.
“What the actual fuck, Theo?” I snap.
