The Glass Ballerina Who Danced On Knives

False Hope

It was told to believe/I always wanted to die clean and pretty/But I'd be too busy on working days/So I am relieved that the turbulence wasn't forecasted/I couldn't have changed anyways

Last Words of a Shooting Star, Mitski

I'm so freaking stupid. I just gave my brother with trust issues false hope. What's wrong with me? I pace my bathroom. On the plus side, it felt nice to get some things off my chest. Right now, there are only four people in the world I can turn to, and one lives halfway across the world. Maybe it's not false hope. I try and reassure myself that I don't know what will happen for sure.

I work a massage gun between my robe-covered shoulder blades, sore from lying on the floor and cheering enough for my publicist. Thanks to the Lone Stars winning, the few shots the press got when I actually showed my face have been blowing up online. Phone in one hand and massage gun in the other, I wander to my study. Notebooks, chess boards, the stack of letters, all scattered about serial killer style. Screw it, I'm a seventeen-year-old girl. I should be allowed to have fun experiences. Easing the massage gun from my shoulder blades I dial a familiar number. Adrina picks up in two rings.

"Hey, Trinity! Still up?"

"Ummm... yes? What are you doing?"

"Trying to find a way to watch 'Love Actually. Congrats to the Lone Stars by the way!"

"Don't you have like, a bajillion DVDs in that decorative wall?"

"Yeah, but that's not as much fun as hacking the Amazon Prime servers."

"Okay then... Do you want to go for a drive? I'm feeling wound up."

"Of course! You need to get your head out of that entire situation."

"Wow, what a way to throw some shade." I roll my eyes as I head back into my closet. "I'll pick you up in twenty minutes?"

"Ugh, as if I can wait until then. Cya!"

I laugh and dial Iqra. "Oh my goodness garden god Givenchy."

"Are you okay? That definitely doesn't sound like you."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just genuinely relieved you finally called. I had a feeling you would. You looked gorgeous at the game, by the way."

"Thanks. Could you be ready at the weird giant pot thing halfway up your driveway in about fifteen minutes?"

"If it's out of this house that my least favourite cousin has come to visit, I will literally fly to the moon. Maybe Adrina could help with that..."

Her voice trails off.

"Perfect! See you soon."

I kick off my cowboy boots and pull on platform sneakers. The athlete jacket has to go, replaced with a leather jacket, as well as the beanie which is shoved into a corner. Knowing my face is on thousands of phones right now, I add some star-studded sunglasses to hide my face before opening my closet window and tracing the carefully plotted path into the side garden that I've travelled a million times before. The only difference that pulls on my heartstrings this time is that there would almost always be someone waiting for me there. I managed to make it to the Muhammed household without a mass scandal being caused, something my publicity manager would think was a miracle.

"I've been waiting for an eternity." Iqra groans as she slides into the passenger seat, wearing a dark hoodie and yoga pants. "Ahhhh, you got it detailed. The A8 is perfect for this kind of thing. Nice, very nice."

I chuckle. "C'mon, let's pick up Adrina."

"Hey guys." Adrina dons a panda hoodie blanket, laptop in hand, giant glasses falling off. "I got Love Actually while waiting for you. And I made sure the ice cream machines were working at all fast food restaurants in a twenty-mile radius but I stole a bunch of pineapple tarts and egg roll cookies from my panty." She heaves a grocery bag onto her shoulder.