MONDAY
7:08 A.M. — GABRIEL'S HOUSE
Clara changed shirts three times.
The first was too bright.
The second made her look, in her opinion, like someone who had recently escaped a private school cult.
The third was black.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
"Absolutely not."
She pulled it off.
From downstairs, Gabriel called, "You have twenty minutes."
"I know!"
"You said that fifteen minutes ago."
"Time is subjective!"
"It is not subjective when I have to drive you to school."
Clara finally chose jeans, a cream sweater, and white sneakers.
Normal.
That was what she wanted.
She wanted to walk into school and complain about first period. She wanted somebody to ask if she'd finished the chemistry assignment. She wanted cafeteria pizza to be the worst thing that happened before three o'clock.
Her phone sat on the dresser.
Beside it was the drawer.
Clara looked at it.
Vivienne's letter was inside.
She had read it once.
Only once.
