The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

Elle comes back with wet hair hanging down her back and goes over to her closet. She shoves back the garments roughly, looking for something to wear.

I plug in my hair dryer and turn it on. She glares at me.

“That’s loud enough to wake the dead,” she yells.

When my hair is dry, I opt to curl it. I finish and flip my head upside down, shaking them out so they’re not so tight.

I stand back up and find Elle sitting on her bed, pulling on a pair of purple boots.

“Beauty Queen,” she jokes.

“Goth,” I shoot back with a laugh.

She stands. “What? You don’t like it?”

I look at her black jeans and black t-shirt. “You’re making a statement, that’s for sure.”

“And what statement would that be?” she asks with a challenging look in her eyes.

“That you don’t give a fuck,” I say.

She smiles. “Exactly.”

I grab my mint-colored backpack and look inside to make sure I have my laptop packed and ample pens and pencils.

Elle coats her lashes with mascara and adds a little black eyeliner.

“Ready,” she announces.

“Where’s your backpack?”

“Oh, shit. Right.” She drops to her knees and look

s under her bed. “I forgot I kicked it under here.” She pulls out the black backpack and I roll my eyes.

“You need some color in your life.”

“That’s what you’re for.” She waves her hand at me. “Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.”

I check one last time to make sure I have everything and then we’re out the door.

“Oh, wow,” I gasp at all the bodies in the hall. Girls linger in the hall in all kinds of stages of undress, chatting excitedly.

“Whoa,” Elle says, rearing back. We push our way through and manage to get to the elevator. When the doors close, she looks at me. “I thought I’d escaped the crowded halls of high school. Looks like I was wrong.”

I look down at her with a raised brow. “Now you’re living at high school.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

I laugh. “Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

“Or maybe it’ll be worse,” she counters.

I shrug as the elevator doors open and we walk the few feet to the main doors. I push open the door and Elle sulks behind me.

It’s a nice sunny day in Massachusetts, albeit chilly for August—at least for me, I’m used to warmer weather and it must only be sixty degrees.

Elle and I make our way across campus to one of the café’s. There are several all across campus so that no matter where you are, you can grab a bite—or coffee, and I definitely need coffee at the moment.