I come face to face with my best friend, and in true Trixie style, she wastes no time at all in chewing me out. “What the hell!” she says, raising her hands dramatically for emphasis. “I’ve been calling your ass since class was over, you little tramp. And now you have all these asshats walking around and looking at me like I’m this crazy bitch who enjoys talking to herself really loudly in public!” she adds with a frown, her complaint clear in her tone and in the way her whiskey eyes are looking at me.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” is my incredibly bland, unenthused response. But at least it’s the truth.

I must look as somber as I feel, because her expression quickly changes, going from mildly annoyed to fairly concerned. Her gaze softens and her brows draw closer as she cocks her head slightly. “Are you alright?” she says. “You look kinda pale. Are you sick?”

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