Page 16 of Strelitzias in Spring

Thoughts of CeCe’s cousins—or, more accurately,cousin—have my heart pounding in my chest, and I fight to retain a neutral expression. Adopting one of CeCe’s signature moves, I roll my eyes and laugh. “Okay, Mom.”

“I’m serious, Rena. As a group, we don’t exactly have the greatest experiences at parties. I don’t like feeling like we abandoned you, you little shit.” I wince because she’s not wrong. Starting with the first party that we went to, where I was verbally attacked by Marina and then kicked out of the party by Devin, followed by Ava’s encounter with Felicity, the sorority girl who was obsessed with Grey and tried to kill Ava, at the barbecue Grey hosted. Not to mention the Campus Hotties incident at the party on Ava’s birthday, where innocent mirror selfies of Ava and CeCe became dirty, distorted images with vile names and their contact information.

My God, we have a bad track record. But that is still not stopping me from going tonight.

Letting out a sigh, I grab my phone from where it rests against my vanity and look directly at the screen. “You didn’t abandon me; I told you that I didn’t want to come up this weekend because I’d feel like a fifth wheel.”

“That’s—” Ava starts, but I cut her off.

“No, that’s exactly what it would have been. I’m so happy for both of you and that you have great guys in your life. But not everything has to include me, especially when it’s a couple’s thing. It’s starting to feel like I’m a pity invite or an obligation rather than your friend.”

“Rena, no. That’s not why we invite you.” Ava’s voice is stern, a tone that rarely accompanies her words. “We invite you and hang out with you because you’re our friend, and we love you. So, like CeCe always tells me, stop with that self-deprecating bullshit, my little butterfly and silence those intrusive thoughts that make you question everything.” She twists her lips, pausing. “Except drugs, white vans, and alcohol from strangers. Your intrusive thoughts can turn back on for those things. That’s important.”

CeCe takes the phone from Ava, moving her out of the frame. “Those aren’t intrusive thoughts; that’s common sense. Rena, we love you; just be safe. Call us if you need anything.”

“And you look like a hot piece of ass,” Ava calls out, making me blush.

“Thanks, and I love you guys, too. I’ll text you tomorrow. Have a great time at the charity event tonight.” I hang up quickly, breathing out a long breath as soon as the phone screen goes black. It feels strange having people outside of my mother care about me and my well-being, but I can’t say I’m not grateful. Though Dylan was my best friend and confidant, I couldn’t rely on him for everything. When I was upset, struggling, or needed advice, I would bypass him and consult my mother or keep my emotions locked up, firmly ensconced inside me.

Having two friends who care so deeply for me feels like a novelty, and while I’m endlessly grateful, I’m also determined to gain independence and experiences that have been denied to me because of my age and academic advancement.

A horn beeps outside my building, followed by my phone screen lighting up with a notification. Grabbing my phone, I swipe to open the latest text.

Meg: Hey! I’m outside. Come down when you’re ready :)

Taking one last look in my vanity mirror, I note the subtle changes in my appearance that have made the biggest impact on my psyche. My hair is blonder, brighter, and bolder than it’s ever been. I’ve always kept my hair short and highlighted with caramel streaks, but after everything that happened during the fall semester, I cut it to an asymmetrical bob and added blonde highlights to my face frame. The effect was staggering. My skin looks more illuminated, my brown eyes more golden, and my jawline more pronounced.

For the first time, I don’t look like a high school student who got lost during her campus tour and never left. I look like an adult, and more importantly, I feel like one.

Typing out a quick text, I let Meg know I’m on my way down and shut the lights off behind me. Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly, excitement coursing through my veins for the night to come.

—

I am covered in chocolate syrup, my phone is shattered, my jaw is tender from where I took an accidental elbow to the face, and I locked myself in a bathroom after a disastrous encounter with Dylan.

In short, this is the worst night of my life.

“Serena, Little, come out. I’ll have one of the sober drivers take us back to the house, and we’ll clean up and watch movies in the living room,” Meg calls from the other side of the door, concern lacing her voice. I hear grumbling, followed by pounding on the door, and nearly break.

But I am not going back out there. I should have gone to Connecticut with Ava and CeCe or stayed home in the quiet solitude of my apartment. Hell, I would rather watch paint dry than be here right now.

“Serena, I’m calling Celeste. If you won’t let me help, then I’m going to find someone who will.” I cringe, knowing that though CeCe won’t gloat that she was right to be concerned about this party, she will be extra protective of me. I don’t bother responding to Meg and instead just drop to the floor, curling in on myself while I replay the last hour in my mind.

When I first got into Meg’s car, I couldn’t stop laughing at the strawberry costume she wore and how indecent it was. Dressed in a red corset, tiny spandex shorts, and a red headband, she looked more like a lingerie model than an innocuous piece of fruit. In comparison, I felt overdressed.

My feelings changed when we got to the party; I was grateful for the clothing I had on since it provided an extra layer between me and the chocolate syrup that was squirted on us as soon as we stepped through the front door. I barely had a chance to take in the plastic covering the walls of the house like a scene fromDexterbefore a stream of chocolate pelted my skin and clothing like a water gun game at the boardwalk. Meg’s scream of surprise was followed by laughter as her boyfriend, Eric, wrapped her in his arms after the assault.

As soon as they started making out, I ran to the basement, where most people were dancing in the middle of the cinderblock room, and migrated toward a makeshift DJ station in the far corner. Syrup and whipped cream flew rampant down there, too, and I found myself knocked on the floor by a bony elbow to the face when I tried to shield myself from the onslaught. My phone dropped as I fell, and before even checking, I knew the screen was smashed.

I should have known that being reduced to a puddle of chocolate and questionable fluids on a concrete slab, along with a broken phone, was an omen of things to come. But instead, I accepted the profuse apologies of the handsome guy who, unknowingly, tried to incapacitate me.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice a mixture of worry and embarrassment. “Are you okay? Do you need some ice for that? Fuck, your phone.” Offering his hand, I didn’t hesitate to grab it.

Once I was standing, I shook my head and patted myself down to make sure all my body parts were still covered. I tried to emulate Ava, who would brush off the encounter and proceed as though it had never happened. “No, I’m fine. A little sore from your mean jab to the face, though,” I teased before looking down at the broken phone in my hand. “And it looks like I’ll need to go to the store tomorrow. But hey, you could have broken my jaw, so it could always be worse.” I watched as the blood drained from his face. I rushed to add, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m fine. It was an accident, and I can get this fixed. Have a great night.” I turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on my wrist. Looking back, I was startled to see the stranger’s handsome face still set in a look of worry.

“Don’t go. Shit, I’m so sorry. Can I pay for your phone? Let me get you a drink, or at least try to make up for the bruise on your face.”

“I—” CeCe’s words filled my head about not accepting things from strangers, like a DARE commercial from the nineties, and I shook my head. “No, I don’t want your money, and I don’t need a drink.”

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