CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ANIMAL FARM ISN'T THAT DEEP

SOFIA

          June hated Thanksgiving.

          Therefore, the fact that I was sitting in a coffee shop, surrounded by the newspaper team, instead of enjoying the holidays with my family made me think about her and, in turn, made me miss her even more than I already did.

          She'd never been a fan of Thanksgiving for obvious, wise reasons: it was stupid and disrespectful to celebrate the killing of Native Americans by eating dead birds. June had had strong opinions about plenty of things and Thanksgiving was something she'd always been vocal about. Thus, since I was so goddamn bored and annoyed with the holidays, a feeling of kinship washed all over me for a moment.

          Then, I remembered she would never complain about it again and sat up straight in my seat before I fell asleep in front of the entire team. Felix would never let me live that down and I needed the newspaper. My college applications had already been submitted and I needed those extracurricular activities to make me stand out in the middle of thousands of applicants; after all, anyone could get good grades, even if they weren't real.

          My bitterness aside, my cappuccino was heavenly. I had a cappuccino machine at home, but they couldn't compare to the one I was currently picking at, mostly to avoid taking part in the conversation.

          Felix wanted to write a memorial edition in June's honor. Although I wasn't opposed to it, I knew he expected the two of us to be featured writers, since we actually knew her and were close to her, and that was what I was opposed to. I refused to use June's death and so many people's grief just so the newspaper could sell more copies. 

          They couldn't fool me with empty promises about how they would donate the money to June's family—they didn't need more money, not when they were as rich as they were.

          Naturally, I still hadn't said a word to Felix regarding my ambivalence. I knew just how infuriatingly stubborn he was—though I supposed that came with his upbringing, as he belonged to an entire family of lawyers and politicians, and with the fact that he had always been used to getting his way—and I didn't want to pick a fight with yet another one of my friends.

          ". . . let Sofia do it," someone said, and I jerked up at the mention of my name. It gracefully broke my attempt at pretending I had been listening closely to what they were saying, and Felix's eyes narrowed ever so slightly when he looked my way. "What do you think?"

          I blinked. The girl who spoke was Georgina, the person responsible for sharing those rumors about Leon on social media, and I couldn't say I particularly liked her—even before the scandal.

          "Sorry?"

          "I was suggesting we should let you handle one of the big articles instead of shoving all the responsibilities to Felix's hands," she explained, with all the patience in the world, as if I was five years old. "Of course, no one here is trying to overwork you, but, if anyone can talk about June, that person is you."

          Felix's eyes never darted away from me. I didn't want anyone on the team to be overworked because of me and I knew I needed to start pulling my own weight, but I still felt like exposing June like that was disrespectful to her memory and to her family. They needed time and space to grieve, and this wouldn't help them in the slightest.

          I knew it wouldn't help me if I was in their shoes. Then again, that was probably yet another case of my own selfishness and egocentrism, assuming everyone would feel exactly the same way as I did.

          "I don't know," I eventually replied, curled up in my plush armchair. I was freezing from head to toe, especially around my knees, my hands, and my feet, which were always the coldest spots in my body. "Do whatever feels right. I trust your judgment." I nodded towards Felix, as though to say I didn't want there to be any animosity between the two of us, but I was still scared he would take it the exact opposite way as intended. "Don't worry about me."

          She briefly glanced at Felix, her already big eyes turning even wider thanks to her eyeliner, and looked back at me. "Actually, Sof, this isn't a matter of being worried about you, exactly. It's mostly about the newspaper. We all voted, and the vast majority chose to turn the December edition of the newspaper into a June-centric memorial."

          "You mean everyone but I agreed to do this."

          She shrugged. "That's just semantics, really."

          I huffed and set down my cup before I spilled its scalding hot contents all over my legs. Considering I was wearing a skirt and tights, the burn would be worse than it would be had I been wearing jeans. "Then, by all means, use semantics and write the article yourself. Or, better yet, Felix." I vaguely gestured towards him. "You were June's friend as well and you voted in favor of the memorial."

          "We voted, Sofia. The majority won and this is a democracy."

          "Bullshit. You didn't give a damn about June"—I leaned forward, menacingly pointing at Georgina with my index finger—"and you certainly don't give a damn about her now. You just want to make yourself look good, when, in reality, you're an abhorrent person!"

          Georgina gasped. "Excuse me?"

          "Oh, you're excused, all right. Feel free to tag me when you tweet about me after I—"

          "Sofia, Georgina, please!" Felix intervened, throwing his hands up in frustration, and it was only then that I noticed that a few people were looking at us. "Let's be reasonable here."

          "I'll be reasonable when you people start being reasonable," I retorted. "She's dead, Felix. If you want an article, write about how she loved Animal Farm and preached about it everywhere she went. In my humble opinion, Animal Farm isn't that deep. Neither should this be; why can't you just let people mourn her in peace?"

          "It's for a good cause," he argued, because he always stood for good causes, and he was never wrong. "Sof, I'm not going to beg you to do your job. I can't force you to write, but we're a team and everyone has a job to do; if you're not willing to do that, I'll have to ask you to leave."

          "The café?"

          "The team."

          I sprung up to my feet, ignoring the half-full cup on the table, and gathered my stuff. I knew exactly what Felix was doing: he knew I needed the newspaper to get into Stanford and he knew I would do anything in my power to get in. People who were used to always getting what they wanted were dangerous.

          It was a simple choice: I had to choose between my Stanford dreams or my stupid feelings and my stupid pride. Felix was dangling Stanford over my head in a sick, twisted game because stressful situations and deadlines always brought the worst parts of him to the surface.

          "I'll write the damn article," I grumbled, through gritted teeth, even though it pained me immensely to do so. I clutched my coat close to my chest. "I'll do it in the comfort of my own bedroom, far away from you."

          I never gave them a chance to answer. Instead, I put on my coat and bolted out of the coffee shop, conveniently forgetting it was pouring outside and I was going to be soaked to the bone in no time. As though it was magic, the rain crashed into me not even five steps away from the front door and I exhaled through my mouth, fixing my knit scarf around my neck.

          Unfortunately, Felix had been my ride that morning, as my car had broken down yesterday, and I vehemently refused to go back inside and beg him for a ride home. Thus, I could either walk or take the bus and, since I didn't trust the streets of Palo Alto when it rained, I had to take the long way back.

          The cold rain and the wind wove through my hair and pressed down on my muscles and joints, making it harder to keep walking. I could barely see a palm ahead of me, which led to plenty of embarrassing situations when I walked into trees and poles, but I crossed my arms and forced myself to keep going.

          Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes and all I wanted to do was step under a balcony and bawl my heart out, as no one would be able to tell I was crying when it was raining this hard. I had been having a hellish week from start to finish and not even the promise of a warm, homemade meal felt comforting in the slightest.

          I did, however, step under a balcony and leaned my back against a brick wall to shield myself from the storm, feeling utterly miserable. I sniffled and wiped my nose on the back of my hand, which was disgusting, but, then again, I didn't think a lot higher of myself at the moment.

          God, I missed June.

          "Hey!"

          My head jerked up, following the sudden scream, and a car parked right in front of me. The window rolled down a bit more, revealing a girl with bright ginger hair and even brighter blue eyes, who seemed strangely familiar, even though I couldn't pinpoint where exactly I had seen her before.

          "Need a ride?" she asked. Her voice was kind, not condescending.

          "I don't take rides from strangers," I said.

          "We know you," the girl sitting next to her retorted, leaning forward to get a better look at me. Whereas the driver was pale, the girl sitting on the passenger's seat was tan, with a mane of dark curls having been pulled back into a messy bun. "You're Meridian's best friend."

          That was my fate, wasn't it? Even though it's not what I wanted the most, perhaps a best friend was what he needed me to be.

          "Sort of."

          "Natasha"—the brunette pointed to herself—"and Vienna." She pointed to the driver. "You can either stay there and fall sick, or you can get in a car and let us give you a ride home. You can ask Meridian for confirmation."

          I did just that, against my better judgment. I took a photo of the two of them, feeling like a massive idiot, then texted it to him.

ME, 05:22 PM: Do you know these two? Ginger is Vienna, brunette is Natasha. They're offering me a ride home

          The answer didn't wait.

          MER, 05:23 PM: *insert groaning here*

          MER, 05:23 PM: Vienna's cool. Natasha is Satan incarnate.

          MER, 05:23 PM: Where are you? Are you okay?

ME, 05:24 PM: Pretty sure I'll be stuck in bed all day tomorrow, but I'm fine

ME, 05:24 PM: I'm standing under a balcony on Channing Ave

          MER, 05:24 PM: You can catch a ride with them, it's fine.

          MER, 05:24 PM: Unless

ME, 05:25 PM: Unless . . . ?

          MER, 05:25 PM: I'm two minutes away. I can give you a ride if you'd like.

ME, 05:25 PM: I'll wait!!

          "Are you done?" Natasha questioned.

          "I'll wait for him," I answered, and she scoffed, but said nothing. Instead, she leaned back against her seat. "I'm sorry. It's just—"

          "No, don't worry," Vienna retorted. "It's okay. I understand." She threw me a gentle smile. "Still, um, if you're ever around Stanford, you can join us for a cup of coffee, or something."

          "That'd be great." I tried to return the smile. "Thank you."

          Vienna winked at me, rolled up her window, then drove away.

          I didn't have to wait much longer for a ride. Meridian was quick to park his car right where Vienna's had been and I didn't hesitate before running towards the passenger's seat, accidentally forgetting I was dripping rainwater out of every pore in my body and every fiber of my clothes.

          "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too," he greeted, turning up the heating system in the vehicle. I didn't know if it was just in my head or if it was mostly thanks to the higher temperature in the car, but I already felt better just by sitting next to him. "What were you doing out here on your own?"

          "I was in a meeting with the newspaper team," I explained, buckling up my seat belt.

          "By the look on your face, I'm guessing it didn't go well." I looked up at him. Even though he held the steering wheel with both of his hands, he still hadn't started the car. "Bad day?"

          I sighed. "Tell me about it."

          "Do you . . . want to talk?"

          So, I talked. I didn't really have anyone else to talk to; Felix was out of the question for obvious reasons, Xena would never take anyone's side but his, Grace would resort to insulting him, and I had never been that close to Courtney or Christina.

          Jesus, I needed my friends.

          Meridian drove while I poured my heart out, nodding and humming whenever I paused, and he let me talk uninterrupted during the entire drive to our street. Even though I had spent a big portion of my life being mortified about speaking in front of him out of fear I'd make a massive fool out of myself, he had always been a great listener. Whenever June and I fought, I knew we'd take turns talking to him and he just . . . listened.

          Perhaps best friends was all we were destined to be. I didn't have the heart to force him to do something he didn't want to—that would be taking advantage of him and his current frailty.

          Then, the car stopped. The streets were dark, yet illuminated by the streetlights, as the sun had already set. The lighting hit him perfectly, highlighting the side of his face that was turned to me and darkening what I couldn't see. His eyes, always so icy, so cold, melted.

          "I'm sorry," he eventually said. "That was a really shitty thing to do."

          "Was it really, though? Felix just wants me to do my job."

          "Still. I'd expect him to be a little more understanding."

          I humorlessly laughed, shaking my head. "Felix is only understanding when there's something in it for him. If he wants the memorial article, I'll write. I just . . . don't want to be used as a prop. I don't want June to be used as a way of selling more copies. That's not the newspaper team I want to work for." I gulped. "I miss the old Felix. I miss my friend."

          I never said which friend, but the ambiguity worked well.

          Meridian's eyes darkened. I hadn't noticed just how close to one another we were sitting and, now that I had unbuckled my seat belt, I had a lot more space to move. My breath got hitched in my throat as we sat there in silence, staring at each other, waiting for someone to speak, for someone to move, for something to happen.

          This was so, so wrong. What the hell was I doing?

          "There's someone standing on your porch," he whispered, and I turned around so quickly I got whiplash. There was a male figure standing there, all right, and I narrowed my eyes to try and figure out who it was. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

          "No," I muttered, and opened the door. "It's okay. Leon?"

          Outside, Leon turned around, looking at me and Meridian with eyes wide open. "I need to talk to you."

me, a known animal farm fan: ok boomer

(no, really, read it. it's v good)