Her name is Misery, and she does NOT want company.
***
It's not every day sixteen-year-old Misery Hayes finds a rock band full of pretty boys on her door step.
Actually, it's not every day Miser...
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Misery Loves Company
By: theinkslingerr
Track 46: The Night Before
Sienna: I can't believe she said that! And PUSHED you! If I wasn't elbow deep in micros, I'd drive right over to her house!
Me: Don't! If we make her mad she might decide to just upload the pic.
Sienna: What's she waiting for anyway? Her mom knows she's bulimic now.
Me: She's waiting for "the right time."
Me: Whatever that is...
Sienna: So, what do we do now?
I smiled at my phone.
We. Not "you."
The implication of the word hit home as my train pulled into Penn Station. It suggested that Sienna didn't view Enid uploading the pic as simply my problem, but hers too. Whatever affected me, affected her. It made me feel warm and fuzzy despite the circumstances.
I waited a beat before texting back.
Me: I'll think of something. I HAVE to. Enid said Paula would be skeptical without proof, and I think she might be right, but I could try anyway.
Sienna: K. That's a good start.
Sienna: But....if Enid's got the pic in her cloud then it won't matter if Paula takes her phone away right??? She could just access it from somewhere else D:
Me: Arghhh. Maybe. Probably. I'll think about it later. Finally in NY.
Sienna: You're doing the right thing by telling Rocco. Maybe he'll know what to do or how to get ahead of this.
Me: Hope so. Later!
Sienna: OMG
Me: What???
Sienna: My mom just texted me. Guess who's waiting for me at the salon for another "trim?"
Me: AGAIN?
Sienna: AGAIN. He's not going to have any hair left at this rate. Look, don't worry about it. I'll handle Jae and you go talk to Rocco. Text me when you get home.
Me: OK. Don't take any of his crap.
Sienna: Never again ;)
I crammed my phone in my pocket and squeezed into the aisle just as the train doors slid open. There was something a little nerve-wracking about getting off trains and planes. Even though everyone lined up neatly, a touch of chaos and impatience always clouded the air. Travelers with luggage struggled to get it into the aisle, people cut in front of each other, and you couldn't move without touching the person in front of you or behind you. It made me feel claustrophobic, so I was glad when I finally reached the platform. After finding the nearest escalator, I rode it upstairs into the slightly warmer interior of the station. No one liked lingering underground during winter.
