Page 37 of Green Flag
It stung. For a split second.
I liked how he looked at me like I was more than someone’s daughter.
It wasn’t until I FaceTimed Fia that night that I realised just why everyone else was weird with me.
She was munching away on a handful of nuts, chewing as loudly as she could, purposely to annoy me. As soon as she’d hit sixteen, her confidence had slipped to arrogance.
We spent most nights on FaceTime, talking absolute rubbish or living our lives in comfortable silence. Sometimes, we would watch a series, sometimes, she’d complain about school, and sometimes, we would brainstorm lyrics together.
Fia, my teenage sister, was my best friend.
Sweet? Maybe. Pathetic? Possibly.
“Shut up,” she said around her mouthful, mouth open, showing me her food, her face-mask slipping slightly down her face. “No way!”
“Close your mouth,” I grumbled, wrinkling my nose, still tinkering with my guitar as I lay in bed.
“They’re advertising your job!” she cried, the mask now drooping off her forehead.
I sat up, guitar tossed aside. “What?”
My phone chimed. She’d sent the job advertisement.
“Ciclati StormSprint are looking to hire a new grid girl…” she said, ripping off the mask as I read it on the screen.My stomach dropped. Round and round went Mum’s engagement ring. “Creative… innovative… charismatic…help create a celebratory atmosphere… knowledge of StormSprint…”
“Well, tick, tick, tick, tick, fucking tick,” I snapped. How could he do this, for fuck’s sake?
They wanted photos, socials, and an audition tape. Hours worth of work.
“Well, yes,” Fia said, swallowing her mouthful. “You do have all of those abilities, though I have them to a greater extent—”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t need this too.
“You’ve got to apply,” Fia said as if it were that easy. “You can’t get the job without it.”
“They don’t want me,” I grumbled.
She scowled. “Nope, none of this sad shit. We make them realise they don’twantyou, theycan’t be withoutyou. Your audition tape should be a song. Then post it on your socials so they can see your audience.”
My brows lifted. “They don’t—”
“They can’t be without you,” she said again. “Get the job properly and Dad can’t even sack you. Look, you have over seventy-five thousand followers, Ever. What other grid girl has that? What other grid girl has been interviewed on the radio? Now pick up that guitar. I’ll start your application— practice for when I apply in a few years.”
“How are you—”
“I know you better than you know yourself,” she sighed. “And if I don’t know something, I can find the paperwork here.” Clap. Clap. “Chop chop.” And she hung up.
She wasn’t biologically related to us, but she’d inherited Dad’s military regiment.
My fingers paused over the guitar, but without consulting my brain, I copied the job link and sent it to Luca. His reply was instant.
LUCA: And you’re applying? Right?
It would be presumptuous to think he wanted me to stay for anything other than our flirty banter.
But that encouragement was all I needed.
I picked up my guitar.
