HOW TO MAKE DIAMONDS

ONE

Amber and Jade have this thing they do every week, a way of reconnecting and re-bonding after everything they've been through: Monday Movie Marathon.

Jade's therapist had come up with the idea and even named it. It was simple enough: they'd sit down together, surrounded by blankets, snacks, and a carefully curated lineup of movies—or sometimes TV shows—and just hang out. On heavy workload days, they'd throw on something light for background noise. Good days meant watching their favorites. Today, being Monday, Jade headed straight to Amber's new home after class.

While Ricky busied himself with whatever task Jade didn't care enough to inquire about, she flipped through the TV's options, finally settling on Professor Iglesias as Amber loaded up on the snacks.

"So, how was your first day?" Amber asked. "Any cute boys? Bitchy students? Made friends yet? Oh, oh! We should invite them to Ricky's barbecue! His friends are coming over so we can meet them properly. I promise I'll turn it into a Brazilian barbecue, none of those sad burgers and hot dogs they love here."

Jade groaned inwardly. She should have chosen Superstore, something light enough to drown out Amber's insistence on crafting perfect social situations.

"Sis," Jade signed with exaggerated tiredness. "No friends, no boys, and if you promise me it'll be a proper Brazilian barbecue, I'll come. Hell, I'll even help cook."

"You need to open up and let people in," Amber said, tearing open a pack of gummy bears.

"Look," Jade said, "I'm comfortable with the friends I have. I don't need more. I don't need this town's judgment or their pity. I'm just here to finish school, get into NYU, and get out. Why should I care about making relationships or whatever?"

It was always the same argument. Jade was the closed-off sister with trust issues, and Amber was the social butterfly, gathering friends and memories like souvenirs. They reacted to life's traumas in completely different ways.

"Well, half your family lives here now," Amber retorted. "I'd appreciate it if you tried to be nice."

"Sorry if I'm not up for pretending everything's perfect in your fairy tale," Jade shot back. "Someone has to live in the real world."

"Right, because making better choices—ones that don't land people in jail—means I live in a fucking fairytale?"

Jade's throat tightened. That was a low blow, and Amber realized it too, seeing the hurt flash in her sister's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Amber said quickly, her voice softening. "I didn't mean that. That was way out of line. I'm just exhausted, my hormones are crazy, and vovó spent two hours on the phone judging me today—backhanded compliments and all. But that doesn't excuse what I said."

Jade swallowed her emotions and nodded, grabbing a bag of potato chips and focusing on the show in front of her.

A couple of episodes later, the living room door burst open, with Ricky and another guy belting out the lyrics to "The Fall of Jake Paul." The two grown men were fully engrossed in the teenage YouTubers' diss track, like it was some grand anthem.

"Shit. Hi. I didn't know you were gonna be here," Ricky said, his eyes wide as he glanced around the room at Amber, Jade, and his friend.

"Você sabe que encontrou o gringo mais branco, né?" Jade teased, unable to resist the jab. {You know you found the whitest gringo, right?}

"Para! Você gosta dele e todo mundo sabe. E outra, eu sou tão branca quanto a mãe." {Stop it! You like him, and we all know it. Besides, I'm as white as Mom.}

"Tá, ok, eu até gosto dele, mas talvez só por causa das tatuagens. Eu ainda tô descobrindo essa parte." Then it hit her. "Oh my God! Who's gonna handle the grill? He's going to ruin it!" {Well, yeah, I do like him, but maybe it's only because of his tattoos. I'm still figuring that out.}

"About that..." Amber trailed off, looking all too guilty. "I'm pregnant, and I love you so much. You're such a great sister!"

Jade scoffed. Of course, it was going to be her.

"Alright... I don't know what's going on, but hey, babe. And hi, Jade. Great to see you. This is Chase. Your sister mentioned you like to watch the races, so this is perfect timing. Chase here is going to one on Friday."

Ricky rushed through the introduction, then moved over to Amber, pulling her into a quick kiss before they settled on the couch, all cuddled up and already lost in their own world.

"Sup," Chase muttered.

Jade rolled her eyes. One word, and she was already done with this scenario.

"Okay, I'm going home," she said flatly. "Text me the address to the race. Love you, sis. Bye, manchild." She didn't wait for a reply, grabbing her things and heading straight for her motorcycle.

The rest of the week passed much like the first day. Jade kept to herself, arriving at school on her motorcycle, dressed in her baggy clothes and annoying attitude. At lunch, she claimed the same spot every day—the table with Kyle and his friend that had skipped classes on her first day, but always four seats away.

It wasn't hard to figure out the social hierarchy of this school. There was the popular table filled with athletes, the gossip squad who seemed more interested in discussing the latest dramas than spreading new ones, and the basketball team members who hovered just below the popular crowd. And then there were the two boys at her table—harder to pin down.

Kyle, the one she met first, had the brooding bad-boy look down to a science, his black hair and intense gaze giving him an air of mystery. The new guy, however, was different. With his friendly demeanor and constantly dapping up others, he was the social one. It puzzled Jade how the two had become friends, but she found herself more intrigued than she cared to admit.

In class, the friendly one—Carter—tried hitting on her a few times, but all in good fun; he clearly did it for his own entertainment, especially since she'd rejected him the first time.

But tonight was Friday, race night—finally. This was Jade's world, where she felt alive, where the roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber were more familiar than the sanitized halls of school. Ditching her usual baggy attire, she embraced her carioca roots, showing up in more revealing clothes that accentuated her curves, her makeup, hairstyle and baby hairs done to perfection. It was a striking contrast to how she presented herself at school—a reminder that there was more to her than what she let people see.

Chase, Ricky's friend, was easy to spot. Leaning against a baby blue family car, he looked out of place amid the sleek, souped-up vehicles that surrounded them.

"Holy shit!" His eyes widened as he looked her up and down. "Oh, shit, sorry. I mean, can we pretend I didn't just do that and start over? This is awkward."

Jade raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but slightly amused. "I'll give you another shot out of sympathy for Ricky. But I don't give third chances."

"Great! A third won't be necessary!" He let out a sigh of relief. "Is that your bike?" He gestured with his head.

She nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, she's my baby."

Chase grinned, leaning forward slightly to catch a better glimpse at the motorcycle. "It's beautiful."

Jade crossed her arms casually, watching it for a moment. "What about your car? Looks like a family hand-me-down?"

"She's Blue Fury," he replied with a smirk. "And don't let her looks fool you. She's full of surprises."

"Really?" Jade said, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Jade never imagined that Ricky's friends would be the kind of people who'd intrigue her. One of them just seemed... like a poor excuse for occupying space. She had pegged him as the type to throw cheesy pickup lines and try to sleep with every pretty girl he saw.

But Chase was proving to be a kinda cool. He had a boyish enthusiasm that was infectious, and as they talked about her motorcycle, Jade found herself enjoying his company more than she expected. They spent nearly half an hour discussing how Harley Davidson had become more of a fashion statement than an actual bike brand, until the roar of engines signaled it was time for the next race.