The Thirteenth Union: Prelusion

Chapter Seven: Happy Holidays

Two Months Later

"I think you should go to Homecoming with Stewart," Tiffany said from her top bunk. She broke the silence that we all managed to keep for a half hour.

It was a Saturday and all four of us roommates were lounging about in our pajamas studying for various classes.

Three other girls and I made this drab little room into a home capable of lasting ten long months: Tiffany Davis, Roxie Skinner, and Sylvia Weldon. Tiffany was your typical cheerleader, just add amber hair, green eyes, freckles, and a complete lack of sense of boundaries. She liked to walk around the room naked. We all made a pact to never let her sleep naked; if she did, we would dump buckets of ice water on her.

Roxie was a very normal girl with soft tanned skin and chocolate diamonds for eyes. Her smile was as sweet as her personality-on a good day. She was pretty normal, down to earth. She knew what she liked and what disliked, and she was not one for the bullshit a lot of teenagers like to wing in all directions. Roxie was blunt but kind, confident but humble, and rude yet classy. If she told you to go to hell, she'd do it in such a way that you both enjoyed the trip and wanted to go back again next year.

Sylvia was a touchy girl. Her feelings were about as fragile as billion-year-old paper in the rain. I commented on her boots one morning-because I found them cute-and she snapped at me, saying that they were ugly and she hated them. After that, I never really said much to her again. She usually kept to herself, protected from conversation with the earbuds always in her ears and the resting grimace on her face.

I turned around on my bed, looking up from my Calculus text book. Tiffany's square face was dangling over the railing, her green eyes staring down at me with lots of energy. "Stewart? Why him?" I asked without interest.

From across the room, I heard Roxie giggle into her science fiction novel.

"Because he's cute and he's nerdy like you," she listed the qualities like she'd planned this conversation months in advance, "and you guys are pretty good friends."

Seven. I made seven good friends and twelve somewhat decent acquaintances. Stewart Finnegan was the first. He originally only talked to me because he thought I was pretty. We had Psych 101 together with Dr. Raymond. Stewart was a pretty smart guy, clever with an intelligent sense of humor that made even me laugh. And he wasn't too bad in the looks department. Thinner than most, but well built and strong. He had a sharp jawline and a big nose that threw a lot of people off.

"I'm not going to Homecoming," I said for the trillionth time. It's like that statement went in one ear and out the other, because she kept forgetting. "I don't have any Homecoming clothes. I don't dance. And-God forbid it-someone hasn't asked me."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't go," Roxie piped up, appealing to Tiffany's side.

I shot her a look that she countered with a snicker.

"Thank you, Roxie!" Tiffany cooed. "At least someone understands." The freckled redhead stuck her tongue out at me.

"Are you even going, Roxie?" I poked, closing my textbook with a forceful slam.

She flipped her brown curls over her shoulder and pushed herself up into sitting position. Her tank top was askew, showing the tops of her black lacey bra. "In fact," she pulled the headphones from her ears, "now that you mention it, I am. With Samuel Frasier."

Tiffany broke out into a girly squeal. She clapped her hands and convulsed in her bed with laughter and complete giddiness. "Yay! I knew you guys would be going. Sam can't shut up about you."