a teeny tiny chapter, but a chapter nonetheless, you ungrateful Ms. Quinns. it's not like i left you without anything for months! not at all.

Hundreds of texts, but only one I care about.

Skyler: sure.

Sure. She said sure. Sure! Sure's a yes, right? For the first time in what feels like forever, I have the energy to get up, get dressed, and update all my socials as I happy dance around my room. It's only half an hour later that I realize I never did reply to Skyler and collapse onto my bed, opening the text up again.

Can you come over?

Too demanding. I erase and try again.

You should come over!

Too friendly. I bite my lip as I type up a few more responses before settling on a semi-decent one and hitting send at last.

Avaline: do you want to come over to talk?

Skyler: sure.

What is with the periods? Who uses periods in texting? Honestly. Wait, is she mad? Maybe she's mad and trying to communicate that and that's why she wants to use periods. Maybe she's going to come here with the paparazzi and totally expose me for the worthless geek I am. But wouldn't she at least try to seem friendly then? Or maybe she's planning a secret revenge--

"Avaline? Avaline. Avaline!" My mom storms into my room. "There you are! Come on, we have to go!"

"Skyler's coming over."

"What?" My mom stops in her tracks and turns to actually look at me. I see her face immediately wrinkle up in disgust at the sight of me without my Ava costume on, but she quickly switches back to the topic at hand. "Skyler? As in, Skyler Thompson?"

"Yes..."

"Why is she coming over? What did you do this time?"

She did not just ask me that.

"I didn't do anything! I got her to come over to talk about this whole mess, thank you very much," I huff. "And we won't talk until you're gone, so you'd better hurry and drive off to spend my paycheck at Louis Vuitton or something like that, because she'll be here any minute now."

"Avaline Quinn, you do not talk to your mother like that! I'd like an apology."

"If you don't leave, I'll just kick Skyler out when she gets here," I reply, proud to have the upper hand this time.

"You wouldn't dare," my mother snarls. She starts to say something about "Skyler the great"--yes, that's what she called Skyler--but then seems to think better of it and stops. "Well. I expect you two to have made up and erased all the rumors about you from the web by the time I get back."

"Yes, ma'am," I mutter under my breath. Gosh, I hate my own mother sometimes. She