20 Million Tiny Particles

20. Twenty Million Tiny Particles

The drive to Knoxville was two and a half hours, winding up through the mountains on either side of I-75 in my Jeep. Sheridan offered to drive, and even though her car was marginally nicer than mine, I told her I didn't mind. I was nothing if not controlling, but mostly, I wasn't sure how much I trusted her and her water bottle behind the wheel.

We left the morning of the conference's kickoff, which was at 3pm that day. Even with two stops for bathroom breaks, we made excellent timing. Sheridan talked the whole way.

When we arrived, I parked the car in the hotel garage, charging my card at the ticket machine. We grabbed our suitcases from the back and wheeled them up to the front desk, up the elevator to our room. The front lobby had large banners welcoming Diamond Ambassadors, and a spread of gifts awaited us on each of our double beds.

"Oh my God, there's branded chocolates," Sheridan announced as she rifled through the things. "And a new drink flavor, ooh." She examined the little powder packets laying against the white comforter. She read the packaging aloud: "Snow Emerald. Hm." I wondered what that could possibly be -- lime? Green apple? It didn't matter -- I'd sell it back home.

We unpacked a bit before walking to the hotel restaurant to grab a sandwich before the opening ceremonies began. When the waiter asked for our drink orders, my Diet Coke was met with Sheridan's dry Chardonnay. "May I see an ID, miss?" She showed him one. And with a nod, the man disappeared to retrieve our drinks.

"You'll need to get a fake when you start college," Sheridan instructed. "I can help you, though. I know a guy."

Of course.

She paused then, looking at me with a quizzical expression. "Wait," she mused, and I knew what was coming. "Where are you going to college?"

Funny, it had actually been a while since anyone had asked me. Dad and Ava had backed off at least, and Mariah hadn't been around enough to prod me about it anymore. I shrugged. I explained, "I'm still thinking about it. I may take a gap year, spend some time working at my family's shop."

"Really?" she answered. "Huh."

"Why 'huh'?" I asked.

"No reason." Then, the reason. "It doesn't seem like you."

I knew it didn't -- maybe because it wasn't me, or maybe because I wasn't the same me I'd always been, the one that people knew from yearbook photos and football parties. "Maybe you don't know me that well."

While I ate my sandwich and Sheridan picked at her salad, we game-planned for the weekend. We had the breakout group schedule pulled up on our phones and pored over the options. Sheridan was more interested in sessions that were hands-on and allowed her to meet people. And those that included food or free swag. "This personality quiz one sounds fun," she mused, chomping a piece of romaine lettuce between her teeth.

I was interested in meeting people too, since that was a big portion of why we were here in the first place, but I also wanted to hear from the bigwigs -- people other than Missy who'd managed to succeed and see real money from doing this. I guess I wanted to believe that there were real, good people who believed in this business. Then maybe I'd feel less embarrassed to tell my friends this is how I'd be spending my time.

Sheridan ordered one more glass of wine, and then we split to our room to freshen up before the keynote speech in an hour. Sheridan sat on the floor and straightened her hair in the mirror on the wall beside the door, while I stood in the bathroom and touched up my makeup at the sink. "Do you think we'll see Missy at all this weekend?" she wondered aloud.