Even though I now know that it was Carter and Vienna, my heart still aches. I don’t want to think about Dorien and Cinna together. And I don’t want to think about Dorien having a hookup with any other women. He’s hot, so I’m sure he’s had plenty of hookups by now.
But I don’t want to think about it.
I stuff a pair of jeans in my bag and wrangle my emotions back in check. It is kinda funny that Carter and Vienna arehaving a fling because he doesn’t seem like her type at all. I really want to talk to her about it, but she’s still ignoring me. She hasn’t forgiven me for accusing her of starting the rumors, and I’m worried she’ll never speak to me again.
That’s why I won’t accuse Aubrey of anything unless I have concrete proof. I won’t lose more friends over the stupid rumors and texts. I won’t let whoever is behind them ruin my life.
I zip my bag and look around the cozy little room one last time. The white bedspread with the little tassels. The wrought iron chandelier I wish I could take home with me even though there’s nowhere to hang it. I love this cabin, but I’m ready to go home.
I need my studio. I want to mix paint and cover a canvas with my feelings and not think about boys, jealousy, or anything. I’m ready to focus completely on school, get my grades up, and paint a masterpiece that will win the Alaria Prize and get me that meeting with a MoMa curator.
Someone knocks on my open bedroom door. I turn to find Cinna. She leans in, still wearing her gold laurel wreath from last night. It makes me smile.
“Trying to create some goddess energy?” I ask.
“Definitely.” She glances at my luggage. “You ready?”
“Just about.” I set my rolling luggage on the floor. “Where’s Aubrey?”
Cinna’s whole body sags. Then she tilts her head so far back I can see up her nostrils. “Ugh. Aubrey always leaves things for the last minute. Her stuff is exploded everywhere.”
I need to see this. I leave my bag by the door and follow Cinna down the hall to their room.
Just as she said, it’s a disaster. Clothes are draped over the chair, the lamp, and the bed frame. Her witch hat from last night is on the floor with a sock in it. There’s makeup scattered across the nightstand. Aubrey is in the center of it all, folding a top atthe speed of someone who has already accepted she’ll be the last one packed and is at peace with it.
“This is art,” I tell her. “I’m tempted to snap a few pics with my phone.”
“Shut up.” She grins.
“Need help?”
“Sure.”
I start gathering clothes and folding them while Cinna hovers near the window, scrolling on her phone. Aubrey is telling us about the guy Carter wants to set her up with.
“Kyle, I think? He showed me a pic and… meh.”
I laugh. “Carter thinks a guy is a winner if he has a pulse and he’s tall,” I say as Aubrey heads to the bathroom. She disappears inside and I hear her gathering toiletries, bottles clinking together.
“At least he’s trying,” Cinna says without looking up from her phone.
I fold one of Aubrey’s tops and lean over to place it in the open suitcase on the bed. The inside is a mess too, clothes jammed in without a strategy. As I try to make room, my fingers graze something hard near the bottom.
I’m not trying to be nosey, but I don’t want to smash something delicate, so I fish out the object. It’s a phone.
It’s not Aubrey’s. Aubrey’s phone has a rose gold case with a crack across the top right corner and a flower sticker on the back. I’ve seen it a thousand times. This phone is blue and looks cheap.
There’s a swirling, sinking feeling in my gut, so I tap the screen. It doesn’t have a lock code, so the screen lights up at my touch.
A text thread fills the screen.
I read the first message and my vision narrows. Then I read the next. My own phone number is at the top of the thread. These are the texts. The vile, anonymous texts I’ve beenreceiving, the ones calling me a fraud, a slut, telling me I don’t deserve my spot at Alaria. The ones that made me cry at 2 a.m. The ones sent to Dorien too.
Every single one, typed from this phone.
In Aubrey’s suitcase.
My hands go numb first. Then the numbness climbs my wrists and forearms, seizing my lungs until I can’t breathe. Aubrey is still talking from the bathroom, telling Cinna about a guy from one of her classes who brings donuts for everyone once a week.
