There’s about half a dozen girls here already — three clumsily attempting to play pool, one heaping pineapple cubes onto a small plate at the buffet, and two more occupying the closest seating area, which includes two bright yellow L-shaped couches that together form a rectangle. The blonde girl sitting on the couch that’s facing me looks at me with an expectant smile, so I feel obligated to approach. 

Normally, I’d have anxiety sweats and weird stomach rumblings when faced with the prospect of meeting new people, but after all that’s happened, I think more stress will literally kill me so my body’s just given up on this whole adrenaline thing. When I walk closer, the sight of two gorgeous girls both staring at me as they wait for me to speak barely registers.

“Hey. Nice to meet y’all, I’m from Viera.” I don’t know why that sounds weird when I say it, so I awkwardly sit myself down on the couch next to the blonde with the … boobs. 

I mean, she’s got more going on than that, but it’s hard not to stare because they’re right there and they look pretty nice. It seems that the short bodycon dress thing is universal and hers is a pale, dusty pink with a deep sweetheart neckline. The other girl is wearing a more conservative dress in dark aqua with lace covering her chest, and her nails are more interesting than I am, because that’s where she’s looking.

“Nice to meet you, too!” chirps the blonde, scooting closer to me. “I’m Stevie Amber, from Alton! This is Lady Odette Napolenne, who’s from Roseden of course.”

Lady Odette looks up from her manicure and leans back into the couch, “You’re Katrien Sullivan, right?”

Oh yeah, giving your name when meeting new people is pretty standard, isn’t it? That’s why my “introduction” sounded weird. I left out the introduction part. 

“Just Kit is fine.”

“Charmed.” She smiles and doesn’t mean it. “I read about you and your family situation. You’re in for a lot of surprises in Roseden.” 

“Eh?”

“Roseden is small but old,” Stevie observes. “And very wealthy. It takes a specific type of person to thrive there, I think.” 

“The generational wealth kind,” I say, silently, in my head. 

“It’s not for everybody,” Odette concedes. “Though my father knows a lawyer who studied at Goldbridge in Viera before he moved north. It took him a few years to acclimate. Oh, but didn’t Goldbridge get shut down a few years back?” 

She looks at me for confirmation.

“Yeah, well, the whole infrastructure in Viera has been on the wrong end of a digestive system for years now, so it’s not the first school to be shut down, nor the last.” 

Lady Odette wrinkles her nose almost imperceptibly. 

“I imagine with it gone, it’s even harder to find a decent college in Viera.” She catches herself and smiles politely. “Oh, no offense, of course.”

Well, we couldn’t afford college for me so I wouldn’t know. I do the awkward half-laugh half-cough thing. 

“None … taken?”

“I had tutors,” Stevie injects, looking between the two of us. “My therapist said I needed a unique learning environment to not get overstimulated. But in the end I didn’t retain any of the math, haha! Good thing I don’t need it!”

“Everyone needs math, Stevie,” Odette says with unexpected softness in her voice. 

“I can’t remember doing any math in the last five years and I’m just fine.” Stevie turns to me. “Do you like math?” 

I blink a couple of times to make sure this isn’t a fever dream and plaster on a smile. “It’s fine, I guess. But I’ve sort of been attached to a calculator for six years, so it’s been a while since I’ve had to do it myself.” 

“Oo, that must be so useful! What can this arm do?” Stevie taps a finger against the chrome plating of my new arm and I inspect it for any buttons or touchpads. There’s a pleasant blue light shining just beneath the metal, like veins visible through skin, and I poke it. 

A screen lights up, half the length of my forearm but with a resolution so crispy I might have to upgrade my eyes to really drink in all these delicious pixels. The layout of the apps on the home page is suspiciously similar to my old arm. I swipe up, and just as I feared and hoped, a silent video of my family plays back at me.

They took all my personal files from my old arm and uploaded them to this one. I’m not sure if I should be grateful or upset. Actually, no: I’m upset. Who knows where all my personal files went, who else might have a copy? 

I can only hope that they are far too uninteresting to hang onto. I have nothing to hide, but … Just because your heart is pure doesn’t mean everyone’s entitled to seeing it, right? 

There’s suddenly a tightness in my throat and I swipe down again. 

“That’s so neat! Imagine just watching movies in bed on your arm, like I do that when I can’t sleep, you know? Watch movies. Not on my arm but on my phone. Well, on my TV mostly, but I don’t like it when it gets too bright in the dark. This seems so convenient.” 

I’m about to reply when the door to the other platform slides open and another girl appears, wearing a neon purple two-piece dress. She carries her heels in her hand and doesn’t even glance back as her team leaves. Her eyes are small and dark, and she has piercings in her cheeks. She’s got knuckle tattoos, too. I can’t tell what they’re saying.

“Hello ladies,” she says as she approaches us. “The party don’t start without me, eh?” 

Stevie waves, “Hi! I’m —”

“I know who you are, pumpkin.” The newcomer stomps over to the glass coffee table between us, her naked feet slapping against the stone floor, and pours herself a glass of … whiskey, I think? She dunks it in one gulp without flinching. 

“Charmed,” says Lady Odette. 

“Uh-huh. I’m Myra, by the way. Repping Legarde. Gonna be interesting seeing princeypants, eh?” 

“Oh I can’t wait,” Odette replies with a flick of her hair, her smile turning crooked as she puts a little too much sauce on the last two words. 

Myra ignores her, “What about you, Blondie?” 

Stevie glances at me for help before smiling sheepishly, “Rhett and I dated for a few months —”

“Okay,” Myra says, cutting her off. She looks at me over another glass of whiskey, “You?”

“I’m still trying to process everything,” I admit. 

I can’t tell if I want Myra to stay and lead the conversation, or if her dominating presence will only make things more awkward. She smiles joylessly with half her mouth, a stone glinting on her canine. 

“You and me both, Shiny. Alright, may the best girl win or whatevs.” 

She proceeds to walk past us and plops down in an empty white armchair closer to the pool table, where we can barely see her behind a fancy room divider. 

“Good luck to you, too!” Stevie hollers. 

Myra at least has the decency to do a mock salute in response.