Page 21 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

Ally: Is it bad that I kind of want to cancel the party and join them?

Yasmin: You can’t not show up to your own party. We’ll plan a movie day for Sunday. Chad and Ella have created our cocktail for the night. It’s called Seeing Spots.

Chase: Ugh...

I can imagine that Chase is thinking back to the Christmas the girls got drunk on some fruity cocktail Chad kept pouring. It was entertaining until Ally vomited all over Chase and Rhys.

Yasmin: Shush you. You love it when Chad makes us cocktails.

Chase: I plead the fifth.

Rhys: You know it doesn’t work like that right?

I find myself smiling at their banter. Right now, I feel a little bit lighter. I miss them. I just don’t even know if they want to see me, or be around me.

I type and retype the same message over and over.

Finding unexpected courage in the moment, I hit send.

Arden: Is there anything I can do for tomorrow?

I don’t wait for their reply. I drag myself out of bed and into the shower to get ready for the day. My first class is at 10 a.m., but I want to sit with Julia for a little bit before I leave.

After a long shower, I head into my closet to get changed and stop dead in my tracks.

In a pile on the floor are all my bow ties.

But they are no longer in one piece.

They have been cut in half.

All of them.

Every single one.

Who would do this? And how the fuck did they get into my room?

A note on top of the ruined fabric catches my attention.

Now you know what it feels like to be like everyone else. Isn’t it just peachy?

- Ella

Well, that answers the who, but I’m clueless on the why. What would possess the crazy woman to break into my room and cut up all my bow ties? Also, why is she leaving me weird notes?

I grab my phone, take a quick picture, and pull up the chat.

There are message responses from both Yasmin and Ally, but nothing from Rhys and Chase, which means I’ve really pissed the guys off.

Ally: Just yourself please?

Yasmin: Ralph and Chad helped organise it. Chad’s been a bit preoccupied since he moved out, but he loves us.

Chad moved out? When? How did I miss that? The dark thoughts surface briefly until I look at the note again. How is it something that should make me angry grounds me more than even the alcohol does?

I should be furious at Ella—she has ruined thousands of dollars’ worth of bow ties.

Instead of stewing on the why and giving the thoughts time to resurface, I send the picture to the group.

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