Aces [#NANOWRIMO2017]

[PROLOGUE] Seraphine Eats Her Own Hand

The first thing that you should know about me is that I absolutely, positively did not want to fall in love with Ace Renshaw. But love is love, and I'm finding that my heart absolutely, positively does not care what I want.

The second thing you should know about me is that my Rocky Road ice cream was melting all over my hand, and I didn't bring a napkin.

Lynne laughed as she watched me slurp at my hand. "You know, Seraphine, this is exactly why I always tell you to eat faster," she teased.

"I'll have you know that my fingers are enjoying their ice cream bath, thank you very much." I lifted my head to stick out my tongue childishly, and in the half-second that I took to do so, a little blob of ice cream slid off the top of my cone and landed directly on the sidewalk in front of me. "Dang it."

"Told you so," sang Lynne, who'd finished her cone (salted caramel. Yuck.) fifteen minutes ago.

"Oh, be quiet." I dove back in to save what was left of my cone, handing my sketchbook to my best friend. "Can you hold that for me while I finish this? I don't want to get ice cream goop all over it."

"Can I--"

My free hand swatted hers away from the sketchbook cover that she'd already started to reach for. "No!" I laughed. "Nope. No peeking inside my sketchbook, Lynne, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Fine." Lynne pouted, rubbing the hand that I'd slapped.

My eyes widened. "Oh, uh, sorry I slapped you, I didn't think that that would actually hurt you..." I trailed off as I registered the huge smile on her face.

"Sera, oh my gosh!" she giggled. "You're such a goody-two-shoes. You don't need to apologize for that!"

I huffed in mock indignation as we approached the school, popping the butt of my cone in my mouth and crunching at it. Lynne and I stood at the school's doors, laughing and talking until the bell rang.

"See you in the cafeteria," I said, shouldering my backpack. "Happy birthday!"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't expect another ice cream cone on my birthday next year, okay? This was a one-time thing!"

"You always say that," I reminded her. Giggling, the two of us parted ways.

As soon as Lynne was out of my sight, though, I tensed up. This is stupid, I mentally chided myself. It's been seven years since you met Lynne and she drew you out of your bubble! So why are you still such an awkward lump of useless every time you guys part ways? You'll be seventeen next month, when February ends -- so snap out of it!

I'm not quite sure what I was hoping for, but I think that something inside of me was just sort of expecting turning seventeen to transform me from awkward lump of useless to confident and beautiful, just like Lynne. I was expecting a miracle.

I was absolutely, positively not prepared for what I got instead on my seventeenth birthday.