Rosalie spent the next morning contemplating Joanna's reaction. It was the morning of Sami's art show, so Rosalie spent the hour before gathering her thoughts amidst her clean sheets, untampered by Khoshekh's thick black fur. She curled up in her blankets with her phone in hand, and a mug of coffee in the other. She flitted between photo filters, stopping at one with hearts bubbling in a crown around her head. She angled the camera up to the string of photographs mounted on the wall overhead. The hearts collected around a photo of her holding Khoshekh to her chest, the white dot on his forehead pressed to the underside of her chin.

    A knock sounded her room's doorframe, and she put her phone down at the sound of her mother's voice accompanying it. "Morning, Rosie. Bee's stopping by for coffee in a few minutes before we head out."

    Rosalie smiled, head tipping back against her headboard. "Okay. I'll be down in a bit."

    She went to pick up her phone again, only to realize that her mother had no intention of leaving. Rosalie looked up at her again and waited for the script her mother likely had equipped in her head.

    Her mother took a deep breath and a step into the room. She folded her sweater coverup over her chest as she crossed her arms and said, "Are you... doing okay? We haven't really talked this week."

    "Yeah, I'm fine," Rosalie said, though she realized her eyes were wide. She probably looked like a deer in headlights. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I mean, we've kind of had a Hell Week with practices, but... school's fine."

    "And Sami? How are you two doing?"

    "Better, I think."

    "You think?" she said with a smile. Rosalie rolled her eyes. "What about your other friends?"

    Rosalie groaned. Of course, it never took her mother long to nail the culprit of her problems. It was pointless to argue against it. "Well... I wouldn't say friends, exactly. Lennie broke up Harper and... I'm kind of anxious for what's gonna happen on Monday."

    Harper and Lennie were easily the most well-known students throughout the school. Considering the size of Bradshaw, it was a lot of power, enough to put them both on the Homecoming Court. With them separated, Rosalie could only speculate the power dispersal. The Bradshaw population might sway one way or the other, and the swarms of guys flocking Harper's locker were sure to devastate Lennie—or, alternatively, the hatred for Harper would deflect all advances (aside from Jace), and be dispensed towards Lennie's side. Hordes of girls pitying him, knowing that the gap in his heart was... "available" for filling.

    Rosalie shifted awkwardly at the thought. She was starting to understand, in a small way, what Lennie had done in the previous years to stop the soccer guys from advancing on her romantically.

    She shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. "Anyway, there's gonna be a power vacuum of some kind and I really don't want Harper to take the glory, you know what I mean?"

    Her mother pursed her lips, clasping a hand beneath her chin. "No, not really. I thought that... tacky bitch Whitney had the power."

    "What? No, Stud.Co. president is just a title. She doesn't have any real power," Rosalie explained.

    Her mother put that hand to her heart with a feigned sigh of relief. "Well, thank God for that."

    Rosalie laughed, surprised by her own smile. Her mother turned with a grin and went for the door. She rose from the bed with enough momentum to change for the day and hurry downstairs with her half-finished coffee. She could hear Tante Bee's loud, exciting voice from the foyer where Rosalie spun around the stair railing and slowed to a walk down the hall from the kitchen. Tante Bee spied her instantly from where she sat at one of the counter stools.

    She clapped her hands and said, "Rosalie, my girl! You're looking lovely today!"

    Rosalie put a hand to her bun with a sheepish smile. "Thanks. Is Sami already at the gallery?"

    "Oh, yes. I dropped him off earlier today to get checked in," she said. As Rosalie came closer, Tante Bee reached out to hug her. Rosalie set her mug on the counter to follow through with it, and stayed there for several long, calming seconds as Tante Bee rubbed the tension from her shoulders. She gave Rosalie a squeeze before releasing her.

    It was a relaxing day with two-thirds of the Griffin family from thereon out. Rosalie pushed homework to the back of her mind in favor of circling the gallery atrium with Sami at her side. Everything she knew about art was explained through him, and how he managed to find fascinating elements in everything mounted on the walls of the gallery.

    They stood in front of a blank, grey canvas created by a girl who was a year younger than them. Sami pointed to the plaque that said it was made from oil paints before gesturing with his pinkie the shape the protruding paint took. "With oil, you can build up layers of paint. It takes ages for it to harden enough to paint over again, so it probably took her months to get it right. You see the curve going through the middle?"

    She did, since the gallery lighting cast a faint, but deliberate shadow on it. She never would have looked close enough to see it if Sami weren't there to point it out.

    "Why use oil if it takes so long to dry?" she asked.

    "I don't really know. I can't stand using it—I don't have the patience for it," he told her. "And cleaning the materials is a bitch. You can't use water to clean the brushes."

    She brushed her hands over the front of her dress as they turned the corner. Sami's explanation supported his decision to use acrylics on the portraits, which brought them closer to where Sami's canvases were mounted farther down the wall. Rosalie passed the other pieces to get there, gathering where Tante Bee was talking eagerly to strangers that passed.

    She came to stand alongside Sami's mother as she tipped her head and studied the work. She recognized them immediately, flushed into a deep, red hue across the palette. The photographs Sami took earlier in the semester were flat and limited compared to the three-dimensional pieces he was being recognized for that day. The bedroom window she recognized framed the composition, flooded white and leaking pink through the curtains and around the edges of her standing profile.

    Sami swayed next to her. Their shoulders bumped as he pocketed his hands in his pair of olive green slacks. She smiled over at him, and he gave her one of those close-lipped smiles and squinty eyes. She laughed and looked back at the painting for a moment to say, "It's really good, Sami. And I know I don't know jack shit about art, but..."

    She tsked and shook her head. She looked back to find him holding back a laugh. "Really something," she finished, smiling ear-to-ear.

    He looked down at his feet and said, "Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

    "I've been wondering," she said, swaying on her heels. She looked back at Tante Bee, who was too distracted with regaling her mother on something that had happened the day before. She turned back to Sami. "When we had our... spat, did you consider... not painting me?"

    "What? No, of course not. I'd never stop painting you over something like that," he said. Rosalie rolled her eyes as Sami then laughed and clapped her on the shoulder.

    They moved on to hunt down food at the snack table. When they ate, they stood before an abstract three-dimensional model of a car, mounted on a pedestal beneath a glass case. Several other items accompanied it, but the car was what captured their attention.

    Sami pointed to it and said, still chewing a brownie, "Do you ever think about stealing a car and just taking it across the country."

    "Not particularly."

    "Well, I do, and I think it'd be fun." Rosalie did like the idea, and the destination that came to mind was Seattle. Her mind went to Coach Heather, and the momentary spark of hope traveled down to the same patch she often settled on these days.

    Joanna Spencer.

    For a split second, Sami's offhanded comment stretched into the makings of a road trip to Seattle. It would be the end of high school before long and then the end of summer when Rosalie would have the considering her journey to Seattle. If Joanna enrolled there, then the two of them would make the journey together in the Lieutenant's car stuffed full of their belongings that would get them through the year...

    Rosalie sighed as she tugged on her fingers and tried unsuccessfully to think of anything but Joanna Spencer. It was one of the many scenarios that warranted no thinking of Joanna at all. One minor, split second thought of her would summon an onslaught of mental images of Joanna. School was sure to be a disaster considering just how many hours she spent in the same classroom as Joanna.

    When it came time for the gallery curator to say their peace, Rosalie was mentally and physically exhausted from a week of torture. She lowered herself to a chair, hands clasped over her lap, and relaxed with a deep sigh.

    By this time tomorrow, she would be in English with Juliana and Joanna. By this time tomorrow, she would have already had two classes with Joanna. She'd be over it by then.

    Joanna didn't show first or second period.

    Rosalie tapped her pen over her copy of The Catcher in the Rye as her peers filed into class and gathered into their designated seats in the circle. She put her free hand up to her cheek and chewed at the frayed edge of her thumbnail—though, there wasn't much of a nail to chew on at this point.

    Juliana stepped around her seat to squeeze into the circle. She dropped into the desk beside Rosalie with a huff before slapping Rosalie's hand away from her mouth. "Stop that. What's gotten into you? You've been an anxious mess since the party."

    "I know," she groaned. She slumped far enough to prop her head on the backing of her desk chair. Juliana perched her chin on her hand and grinned.

    "Is it Lennie?" she said. Rosalie slid her stone cold eyes in Juliana's direction. "It's Lennie-boy, isn't it?"

    "I kicked his testicles into an early grave," Rosalie said.

    "The things we do for love," Juliana sang.

    Rosalie threw her arms over her face and groaned. She dropped them to squint at the clock, and then look back at the door as their teacher came in, humming to herself. Rosalie glanced around the circle in search of Joanna before the teacher struck in the class with a cheery, "Well, happy Monday, everybody! Today we were supposed to read until page—"

    The classroom door opened again. Their teacher paused, lowering the book from where she had it poised before her—in preparation for an excellent speech, Rosalie assumed. Everyone turned to look back at the door where Joanna shut the door behind her.

    Her hair was the size of Mars. It likely had something to do with the fact that half of it was curled into a poofy bun, and the other half remained untamed around her shoulders. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder, and she dropped it to her side as she squeezed into the circle with a meager apology to the people who had to deal with her ass on their desk.

    "You called in sick," the teacher said.

    Joanna performed a fake-cough and said, "Yeah, so sick. Please continue."

    The class snickered. The teacher gestured to last available desk across the room from Rosalie. Joanna dropped into it, propping a foot up on the chair so she could wrap her arms around it and feign studious attention. The teacher squinted at her, and it prompted another round of giggles from the classroom.

    Rosalie stared until she realized she was staring. Joanna looked up at her and broke the trance, sending Rosalie's eyes to her desk, cheeks flushed. Her chest ached like she had just run a marathon, but her lungs were merely exhausted from holding her breath. She pretended to skim through Cather in the Rye as class commenced, and Rosalie started to wonder if Joanna would treat her like every other classmate outside of soccer.

    She knew it was what she asked for, but it hurt, somehow. The desperate part of her wanted to take it back and say that she didn't need time and space to get over the crush. Her anxiety said otherwise, reminding her of what a disaster she was when she had a crush. How many times she'd make an idiot out of herself in front of Joanna. She'd regret it.

    When class concluded, Rosalie was quick to pack up, but Joanna was faster—considering she hadn't even taken her book out of her backpack all class. Rosalie stood with Juliana as Joanna approached them and looked at Rosalie to say, "I know what you said, and I promised to stay away, but we have a problem."

    Rosalie stared at her as Juliana looked between them and said, "What problem?"

    Joanna spared a glance at her before meeting Rosalie's eyes. She waited in silence, and when it became clear that Rosalie was in shock, Joanna said, "Can I walk with you guys?"

    Rosalie cleared her throat. "I-I mean, yeah, sure. What's the problem?"

    Joanna nodded her head towards the exit before starting in that direction. Juliana shared a look with Rosalie before heading out after Joanna. Rosalie took a deep breath, assured herself that she could remain composed for five minutes, before following after them.

    In the hallway, Joanna led the way towards the foyer where the main staircase to the second floor was. She stopped at the bubbler to the side of it, arms crossed, and turned to face Rosalie and Juliana with a look Rosalie couldn't quite decipher. In fact, she'd never seen it on Joanna before, so she couldn't quite tell if her tensed brow was a sign of distress, worry, or anger. Considering she couldn't meet their eyes, Rosalie had to cross anger off of the list.

    "What's wrong?" she asked. "Are you actually sick?"

    That got Joanna to look up. She scowled at Rosalie and said, "What? No, I was just lying. You know, that thing liars do sometimes?"

    Juliana clapped her hands impatiently between them and said, "What's the issue! Let me hear it!"

    Joanna restated her arms over her chest and said through clenched teeth. "It's... someone from Kaiserslautern. Her dad was stationed in Georgia. I blocked her on social media so I didn't hear about it until this morning."

    "When did this happen?" Rosalie asked. Joanna put her fingers to her lip piercing, looking at the wall. Rosalie's shoulders slumped. It meant the worst. "What team is she on?"

    "I checked. They'll definitely make it past Semi-State and State," she said.

    "What are the odds that we'll see her at Nationals?" Juliana asked with a laugh. "I mean, it's slim, right?"

    "Her new team has been to Nationals twice in the past five years," Joanna said. She clenched her hand into a fist over her mouth, anger taking over. "God. And the school's a fucking hour from the base. Who would commute that far for high school? She's doing this on purpose—"

    She broke off, slamming the side of her fist against the brick. Juliana squeaked and Rosalie jumped.

Rosalie only knew of one person who commuted that far for high school, and for the same reason. Juliana used to live outside of the county, and coming to Bradshaw was the best option academically and athletically in the area. Rosalie remembered freshmen year when Juliana talked about how her parents looked between Bradshaw and Adam High. Ultimately, Bradshaw had a better social atmosphere, but given when Rosalie knew about Joanna's soccer experience, her ex-teammate wasn't looking for a wholesome social life.

She reached for Joanna's hand, tugging it from the brick. She held onto her wrist as Joanna seethed, "I just—needed to warn you. Since her dad might have meetings in DC and bring her with—"

    "Who is she?" Rosalie said. It was one thing to act this way about a classmate she despised, but Joanna never acted like this about Jace Clemons or Harper Winters. She thought back to the Lieutenant's offhanded comment about soccer girls.

    Joanna looked at Juliana, who just about fled at the sight of Joanna's murderous gaze. She ducked behind Rosalie, peering over her shoulder as Joanna took in a deep breath and said, "She's my ex."