Page 33 of Your Echo
I let out a breath. “It’s going good. Stéphanie is...”
“Wait, Stéphanie? Is that the hot blonde from the park?”
I nod.
“Damn. Meditation sounds much more interesting now.”
“She’s smart,” I say through a clenched jaw, “and she’s good at what she does.”
That comment is just asking for a smart-ass reply, but Matt has enough sense not to make it.
“Never said she wasn’t smart, and she did do a good job at the park that day.”
He watches me for a moment, but I don’t say anything else.
“When’s your next class with her?” he asks.
I glance at my phone. “In forty-five minutes.”
We say our goodbyes, and I take the metro over to the plateau before walking the few blocks to the AMM house. Stéphanie is already waiting for me in the meditation room, smoke from a burning stick of incense coiling around her where she sits on a pillow.
“Can you get high off that stuff?” I ask, dropping onto the pillow beside her. “It smells like it could make you high.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s sandalwood. It can’t make you high.”
“Are you sure? Do you even know what being high feel likes?”
“Obviously.”
I lean back onto my elbows. “Actually, it’s not obvious. You’ve got this whole blonde ballerina princess look going on.” I wave at her leggings and light pink tank top. She’s even got her hair up in a bun today. “You don’t exactly scream ‘baked’ to me.”
“I’ve been high before,” she insists.
“Whatever you say, princess.”
The glare I earn is downright scary.
“Call me that again and we’re done here. Also, stop assuming you have me all figured out.”
“Hey,” I say, as gently as I can, “that was a joke. A bad joke. Trust me, the last thing I’m assuming is that I have you all figured out.”
“Good.” She straightens up a bit on her pillow. “Because there’s more to me than meets the eye.”
I laugh. “What are you, a Transformer?”
She stares at me blankly.
“You know?” I prompt. “More than meets the eye? Robots in disguise? Please don’t make me sing the song for you.”
“Areyouhigh?” she demands. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I shrug. “Maybe it’s different in French.”
Her whole body goes rigid and her voice turns to ice.
“Don’t do that either,” she nearly hisses. “Don’t assume I’m stupid and ignorant about things just because I’m French.”
“Whoa!” I shift forwards and hold both my hands up. “Whoa whoa whoa. Where the fuck didthatcome from?”
