Page 39 of I Blame the Rival

Nerves hit me and I grip my phone tighter. It’s a silly game but I don’t want to disappoint her.

“Okay.”

“Are you ready?”

I’ve never been less ready for anything in my life.

Shaking my head at the wall, I gulp down a breath, “I think so.”

“Okay! Here we go. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” I hesitate, wondering if two answers are allowed, “But green has recently became a favourite as well.”

“Ooh, I love purple. Light or dark?”

“Dark.”

My mind flashes to the violent bruises that used to cover my mother’s body. The black and blue skin would swirl together inthe most beautiful way, and I always wondered why such beauty came at such a high cost.

Lacey clucks her tongue, “Very nice. Favourite hobby that isn’t drawing?”

“I like to run.”

She gasps, “I knew it! You made running that football stadium look easy.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No, Skylar. It was not.” Laughter escapes her, “I thought I was going to have an asthma attack last night. You’re lucky my coordination took me down before I lost a lung.”

My eyes widen in alarm, “Do you have asthma?”

“No. I’m just that out of shape.” She blows a raspberry and redirects the conversation back to the questions.

The five minute mark slips by but we keep playing the game, taking turns asking each other superficial questions while the night slowly creeps by.

“Favourite flower?”

“I don’t have one.”

Lacey heaves a sigh, “Everyone has a favourite flower, Skylar. You just haven’t acknowledged it yet.”

“I apologize for the ignorance.”

She laughs, “You’re forgiven. Now, answer the question.”

Shaking my head, I smile up at the ceiling, “I need a moment to think about this. What’s your favourite flower?”

“Azaleas.”

“I’m going to have to Googlethat one.”

Laughter echoes down the line and my smile grows wider.

“It’s a flowery shrub with bright, delicate flowers. They’re very pretty but surprisingly fragile if you don’t take care of them properly.” She hesitates, “You have to drain the soil properly so it doesn’t drown, but not everyone takes the time to understand that.”

There’s a vulnerability in her voice that wasn’t there before. I fall silent, knowing we aren’t talking about azaleas anymore.

Lacey sighs, “It’s getting late. We should probably turn in.”

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