FAUX REAL

2

"A little higher on the right," I say, squinting my eyes and pursing my lips in deep concentration. It really should not take this long to hang up a damn poster. We've been at this for almost ten minutes and Andy Warhol's Marilyn is still crooked.

Move-in day at Hilton Prep is always a shit-show. Since we're seniors this year, we get to live on the fourth floor of the dormitory. The top floor comes with great perks such as bigger rooms, awesome views, and a giant student rec center that's only for seniors. The biggest downside is that it's virtually impossible to sneak out at night without being caught by the staff. I'm sure Rosé will try and rope me into testing Hilton Prep's security systems. I'll have to play along because there's no way I'm telling her I've been bestowed the ultimate pass.

"My right? Or your right?" Rosé asks, lifting herself on her tippy-toes, her foot awfully close to the edge of the desk..

I let out an exhausted sigh. "We are facing the same direction, rosie! My right is your right!"

"Oh..." She snorts and almost loses her balance. "Right!"

I slap my hand over my face, peeking at her wobbling stance through my fingers. I'd like to blame her current hazy mental processing skills on the fact that she's recently discovered the wonders of edibles, but my best friend has had the personality of a stoner long before actual weed came into her life. But I think it's good, the weed helps her chill out, otherwise, she'd be bouncing against the walls.

"You know what? Just leave it like that, it's fine. It's...abstract." I would suggest that we switch positions but then the poster would definitely be crooked, well, maybe not to her, seeing as she's always standing at an angle these days.

She inserts the thumbtack into the wall and turns around, dusting her hands, a proud smile on her face. "I think it looks dope!" She hops off the desk like a graceful yet tipsy gazelle. "Should we hang the other ones up too?"

My eyes widen in pure horror. That was enough torture for one day. "No! I can do those later myself." I walk over to her and flip the unironed white collar of her school uniform right side out. "I think we need to get down to the quad. You volunteered us to give campus tours to the newbies, remember?"

She scrunches up her face. "I did?"

I shake my head and let out an exasperated chuckle. "Sweetie, you have got to stop eating those gummies! Your brain is going to melt by midterms." I pause. "Plus, you should spend your money on more important things, like jewelry or..." I look down at her feet. "More adidas."

"My parents upped my allowance this year so money's not a problem." She waves me off. "Plus, taeyong gives me a pretty decent discount anyway."

My gut clenches at the sound of my ex-boyfriend's name. "You're getting your edibles from him?! Since when does he sell drugs? He's the captain of the football team for God's sake- they test for that shit like every week."

"Crap! I wasn't supposed to tell you that!" She presses her lips into a thin line, her apologetic deep-brown eyes staring up at me.

"Too late now! Spill."

She sighs. "Okay, so apparently, he and a couple of guys on the team started making their own gummies this summer. Like a summer project, if you will. And to be honest, it's pretty good shit."

"He is making edibles? The same taeyong that barely passed chemistry last year?"

I am mind-blown right now. What a fucking idiot. People sell drugs to earn money so why in the world would the son of Malcolm Redford, one of New England's most prominent lawyers, need to sell drugs?