AARON

“So no clubs this year?” asks Erica.

I glare back at her. I know what she’s doing. Erica’s done this every single time she fails in blackmailing me – either she tries to recruit me into her weird mafia gang thing, or she tries to persuade me to expand my extracurricular resume for college. It’s always one or the other, never both at the same time. And, while I appreciate the concern for my future, the downside to her asking is that I literally don’t have the time to do it.

I shake my head. “No clubs this year. Someone needs to watch Emily.” Erica begins her retort, but I interrupt her. “Without me, I’m certain she would die.”

She smirks. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

Sticking out my tongue, I sigh and look down at my food. I’m not that hungry, though I know I should eat. My stomach’s in that weird space where if I eat anything, I’ll get sick, but I need to eat to make it through the rest of the day.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and a text message flashes across the screen from Mom. “Prague,” I whisper, putting away the phone without replying.

“This time?”

“Yep.”

“Your mom sucks.”

“My mom’s busy.” That’s a partial lie. She’s ridiculously diligent with work; this is true. But I don’t bother telling Erica that she’s only doing it because we’ve had to mortgage the house twice already. It’d break the perfect, “Stepford Wives”-esque bullshittery that the district stands for. “Besides,” I add, “I like taking care of Em. It makes me feel like…” I lick my lips and glance up at the skylights overhead. “…like I’m accomplishing something that matters.”

Erica cackles. “Buuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrn,” she roars, and everyone in the cafeteria is looking at us.

I shrink and pray that no one important’s watching us. I’m relieved when I realize that no one is.

“Can you be a little louder?” I ask through my teeth.

She blinks and grins. “YES,” she says, and her voice echoes around the cafeteria.

“Stop. Stop. I get it.”

“You’re too cute when you get nervous,” she says, winking. Erica’s kidding, because she follows up with, “You’re a dumb shit the rest of the time, though.” She winks again, a big cheesy grin on her face. “I love you, and I miss you. Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”

It’s times like these where I want to murder her.

I look down at my food and sigh, taking a bite out of it. “You’re a bitch.”

Erica winks again, but this time she begins coughing, like she’s trying to cough out a foghorn. When she’s finished, she clears her throat, and in the most scraggily, smoker voice possible, says, “Someone’s gotta be for us to be friends.”

Smiling, I shake my head and ask, “So, what’s your new mission for this month?”

Erica tells me her plan to blackmail someone on the Prom board because “the theme is shit”.