STELLA
Vivian glares at my bag like it insulted her ancestors.
“You brought your laptop to lunch. That’s criminal.”
“It’s not a laptop. It’s homework.” I shrug, flipping it open. “Well. Homework adjacent.”
She doesn’t buy it. She never does. She stabs a fork into her fries, scowling like they’re the problem.
“This isn’t about trig, is it?” she mutters, eyes narrowing. “You're going to look him up.”
I pause for a second. Just a second too long.
Vivian exhales sharply through her nose. “I knew it.”
“You don’t know anything.”
She raises a perfectly drawn-on brow, black as a funeral dress. “Stella. You’ve had that exact guilty face since junior year. The same one you wore when you searched up which plants can hide bodies.”
“In my defense, that was research.”
“For what? A science fai
