I can’t imagine why I was nervous to come to this thing…
Only pride keeps me from fleeing as we get close to her friends. Well, that and the fact that acting like prey right now seems like a particularly bad idea. I mean, if I don’t want to spend the rest of my senior year dodging every mean girl in the place.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my friends,” Macy tells me as we finally reach the group in the back. Up close, they’re even more spectacular, different gemstones gleaming in their hair and against their skin. Earrings, pendants, hair clips, plus eyebrow, lip, and nose rings, all bedecked with colorful stones.
I’ve never felt plainer in my life, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to once again tug on the neckline of my borrowed dress.
“Hey, guys! This is my cousin, Gr—”
“Grace!” a beautiful redhead with a giant amethyst pendant interrupts. “Welcome to Katmere! We’ve heard soooo much about you.” Her voice is enthusiastic to the point of being mocking, but I’m not sure who she’s making fun of—Macy or me. At least until I look into her eyes, which are viciously cold—and focused entirely on me.
Big surprise.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer her—being polite is one thing. Participating while she makes fun of me is something else entirely. Thankfully, before I can decide what to do, a girl with thick, curly dark hair and perfect cupid’s bow lips does it for me.
“Knock it off, Simone,” she tells her before turning to me with what appears （I hope） to be a genuine smile. “Hi, Grace. I’m Lily.” Her soft brown eyes seem friendly and her black hair is worn in locks woven through with sparkling ribbons that beautifully frame her rich brown skin. “And that’s Gwen.”
She nods toward an East Asian girl in a beautiful purple dress who grins and says, “It really is nice to meet you.”
“Um, it’s nice to meet you, too.” I’m trying, I really am. But my tone must sound as doubtful as the rest of me feels, because her eyes grow cloudy.
“Don’t pay any attention to Simone,” she says, all but hissing the redhead’s name. “She’s just bitter because all the guys are looking at you. She doesn’t like the competition.”
“Oh, I’m not—” I break off as Simone snorts.
“Yeah, that’s totally why I’m bitter. I’m worried about the competition. It has nothing to do with the fact that Foster brought a—”
“Why don’t we go get something to drink?” Macy interrupts her loudly.
I start to tell her I’m not thirsty—the low-grade nausea is back—but she doesn’t wait for my answer before she slips her hand in mine and draws me across the room to the buffet tables.
At one end, there are two huge teapots and an arrangement of teacups along with two open coolers filled with icy water bottles and cans of soda.
I start to reach for a cup—I’ve been freezing since I first landed in this state. But then I notice several orange and white five-gallon sports thermoses set up on a separate table. “What are those?” I ask, because I’m curious. And because there seem to be an awful lot of drinks for the number of people in this room. I really, really hope this doesn’t mean that a bunch more students are going to be showing up. We’re already over my comfort level with the number who are already here.
“Oh, those are just water,” Macy says breezily. “We always keep a bunch on hand in case the temperature drops suddenly and the pipes freeze. Better safe than sorry.”
It seems to me that they’d have special pipes and extra insulation for places in Alaska to make sure that doesn’t happen. But what do I know? I mean, it’s only November and it’s already below freezing outside. And that’s normal. It makes sense that a particularly harsh winter could really mess things up here.
Before I can ask anything else, Macy bends down, pulls a Dr Pepper out of the cooler, and holds it out to me. “I made sure Dad told them to order Dr Pepper for the party—and the cafeteria. It’s still your favorite, right?”
It is my favorite. I thought I was in the mood for tea, but there’s something about that maroon can that gets to me. That reminds me of home and my parents and the life I used to have. Homesickness wells up inside me, and I take the drink, desperate for something—anything—familiar.
Macy smiles at me, nods encouragingly, and I realize that she knows what I’m feeling. Gratitude helps chase away the homesickness. “Thanks. That’s really cool of you.”