𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 • Neil Perry

Chapter 4

THERE was something about the white gloves Milly couldn't shake. And lying on her bed in the clothes from her second full school day, facing the ceiling, she held the weight of the right glove in her hand. She slipped it on, stretching out her fingers in front of her as a newly engaged woman did in admiration of her sparkling ring.

But Milly wasn't admiring the glove at all. She felt haunted by it. By the way it fit so perfectly on a hand it didn't belong to.

It's OJ Simpson all over again, she thinks to herself, viciously pulling the glove off by its tips to throw it back down onto her bedside table.

Of all movies, this wasn't her favourite, and of all tales, this wasn't out of the realms of the fantastically improbable. So why is this the fictional hell she's confined to? Is this punishment? Is this twist of fate a mere dream? Could she pinch herself any second now and wake up?

And she tried, pinching her left arm enough to leave a pattern of bruises resembling cheetah print.

Then came the knock on her door that expelled a deflating sigh from her body. These nights were the only solitude she had, and being left alone felt like the closest to being home she could manage.

But she swallowed her misery, calling out a clear and collected, "Come in," and pushed herself to sit up.

Chris pushed herself into the room, her dark coat on her arm posing quite the contrast to her white attire: a white headband, a white fleece, a white dress.

Milly recognised this outfit well.

"You are not going to believe what happened to me today," Chris says, shutting the door.

Milly swung her legs over the side of her bed, "Good evening to you too."

Ignoring her sarcasm, Chris marched right over, sitting next to her on the bedside—coat too, "I was at Chet's tonight, as you know—"

"And a guy by the name of Knox Overstreet was at his doorstep falling head over heels for you and spluttering over his words," Milly spiels stoically.

Chris' eyebrows drew together, "Falling head over..." she almost laughs, her frustrated confusion winning over. "Do you know him?"

"Nope," Milly says, popping the p.

"Then how do you know all that?"

"Just a lucky guess?"

"Freaky," Chris says in a kind of awe. "You got the name spot on. He's a sweet kid. I'm thinking of inviting him to Chet's party, just out of some kind of courtesy for being so polite."

"You know, the waiter at the milkshake place was pretty polite earlier," Milly begins, folding her right leg across her knee. "D'you think I should invite him over for dinner?"

"Milly," Chris rolls her eyes. "I'm being serious. I'm doing him a favour. With all that testosterone at Welton, it couldn't hurt to interact with a girl for a change." There was something in her eyes that showed she was insinuating more, but simply due to her apathy, it flew right over Milly's head.

She only shrugged. "It's your call."

"Jesus, Mils. I'm saying maybe you could be that girl."

"And maybe you could get a grip for a moment. You're inviting a kid you've known for all of two seconds to a party?"

Chris sank back, the light in her eyes fading. "You're right. I have gone overboard."

Seeing her so crestfallen hit Milly with the sinking realisation that she's changing the narrative. If Knox doesn't go to this party: no knuckle sandwich which equals no connection with Chris.

I'm ruining the movie.

"No!" she cries, causing Chris' eyes to widen. She dialled down her volume, trying again, "No, I'm wrong. I'm a total cynic. Invite him."

Chris still seemed uncertain due to her friend's miniature outburst. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says nonchalantly. "You're probably right. I could be that girl."

Chris visibly melted at those words, excitement coursing through her veins. She placed her hands on Milly's forearm. "I really think so. He's a nice guy, and you need a nice guy."

"I absolutely agree. But... so do you."

Chris' hands dropped, her eyes rolling. "Not this again."

"Chet's a total douchebag."

"No, he is not," she matches Milly's smile.

"He's a douchebag with a side of extra douche."

"You just don't know him like I do."

Milly snorts. "And thank god for that."

Chris was more excited about setting up her friend with a dreamy boy than she was affected by her sarcasm. "I really think the stars are aligning for you," she says.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. It's no coincidence you got his name right. I don't know many Knoxs let alone Knox Overstreets. Do you?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Milly laced her hands around her bent knee, bouncing her foot comfortably. "I have this book called Face and when you skim through it, you can find tons."

"And once again I have no idea what you're talking about but I'm taking it as a 'thank you for setting me up with a kind, handsome guy'."

"Oh, so you do think he's handsome," she teases.

"Well, I wouldn't pin you with someone who's ugly. What kind of friend would I be?"

Milly ignored how easily the blonde deflected her accusations, staring at nothing in particular as they fell into a comfortable silence.

"How's the project coming along?"

Milly looked up, following Chris' focus to the map stuck to the surface of her bedroom mirror. By now it had a red line tracing the route to Ridgeway High; crosses at Ridgeway and the Meeks residence; and a circle around Welton Academy.

"It's hardly coming," Milly laments. "It's barely got its coat and shoes on."

"It's like I said," Chris budges her shoulder, "you need to learn to take a break."

"I'm going to Chet's party, aren't I?"

"Yeah, I suppose you are." Pause. "Was the waiter at the milkshake place handsome?"

"The waiter at the milkshake place doesn't exist, Chris."

"Darn it," she grumbles. "I was wistful for you. Hopeful even!"

"I have faith in this Knox," Milly says decisively before falling back onto her bed. "What kind of name is Knox anyways?"

Chris fell back beside her, "I like it."

Milly rolled her cheek against the bed to face the blonde. "But you don't like him?"

"I like him for you! I'm a taken woman, I'll have you know."

Milly picked up Chris' left hand by her wrist, "I don't see a ring on your finger."

Chris wriggled her fingers, smirking, "Yet."