The Similars (The Similars #1)(15)

“It’s been like five minutes!” Pru laughs.

“Five incredibly long minutes,” I argue. “And it’s the principle of it. Is keeping secrets from me your new MO? First your Similar, now your stratum ranking?” I press.

“Absolutely not,” Pru answers lightly. “This is a first-day-of-school anomaly. I promise, if anything notable happens in my life after this, you’ll be the first to know. And you too, Pippa,” she adds quickly.

“Thanks,” Pippa replies, “but you and Emma are roommates. You’ve been close since forever. I know I can’t show up and expect best-friend privileges.”

“Trust me, Pippa, you deserve any privileges you want,” I say between bites.

“What Emma means is that you and I are practically long-lost sisters,” Pru clarifies. “Consider yourself a part of my family. And families tell each other stuff.”

From the look on her face, Pippa’s touched. She’s about to answer when a couple of classmates rush up to wrap Pru in a hug. I watch, happy for my friend. If anyone deserves this accolade, it’s Prudence. I’m also relieved she’ll be on this Ten journey with me. We’ll face it—whatever ‘it’ entails—together.

I look in the direction of Madison Huxley and her cohorts. If they looked miffed before, now they’re downright pissed. They aren’t any happier about Pru making it into the Ten than they were about the Similars. It’s obvious Madison is threatened by Maude scoring the number-one spot, but what does she have against Pru? Where is this animosity coming from?

“Why has my face been up there for so long?” Pru moans. “What’s taking them so long to get on to the next… Oh,” Pru says. “Oh!”

I look up at the view space, knowing exactly what I’m going to find there, hoping that somehow the outcome will be different. But of course, it isn’t. It’s me on the screen, my own face projected above the dining hall.

EMMALINE CHANCE. STRATUM: 5

Before I can consider hiding under the table, Pru and Pippa are congratulating—and chastising—me.

“You did not just give me a whole speech about keeping secrets when you were sitting on this one!” Pru exclaims. Of course, she’s only teasing; I can tell she’s genuinely excited for me. I’m glad someone’s enjoying this. I haven’t come to any conclusions about my rank one way or the other. Sure, the high stratum will complement my college applications next year. But all my dreams of college involved Oliver. With him gone, I can barely think past next week, let alone next year. As for the Ten, is bowing out of that society even an option? No one’s done it before, as far as I know. Maybe I could be the first… But then again, my father would probably ground me for life if I gave up this kind of opportunity.

A couple of my classmates rush up to high-five me, but most of the dining hall is quietly staring. I avert my eyes to my bowl. I hate this attention. It’s bad enough everyone pities me after Oliver’s death. And then with my outburst at Levi’s arrival… I’m relieved when my picture dissolves, and the stratum reveal is over. The dining hall returns to its regular decibel level—though each table is having the same conversation about the new members of the Ten.

“I don’t know who I’m happier for,” Pippa tells Pru. “You two or my three friends. I’ll have to remind Levi to look a little bit more appreciative in the future,” she adds, glancing at the Similars’ table. “His reaction has been slightly underwhelming, don’t you think?” As soon as the words have come out of Pippa’s mouth, she regrets them. I can tell.

Suddenly it’s all too much. I stand, my chair screeching as it scrapes the floor. “I’m going to bed. I’m super tired. Long day. Nice meeting you, Pippa. Congrats again, Pru. See you back in the room. Good night.”

I flee the dining hall, hoping I won’t run into anyone on my way to Cypress. Tears stream down my face, and the cold evening air accosts me like a stranger.

I consider taking another pharma as I stare at the numerals on my clock: 8:47 p.m. It’s a full eleven hours until I have to be up for my first class. The night hours are the worst, because time doesn’t move slowly—it ambles to a lazy halt and loiters mercilessly.

There are seventeen pills left. Dr. Delmore gave me enough to get me through the first few weeks of school, warning me to taper them or risk becoming addicted to the comfort they provide. But I’ve already taken several today. At this rate, they won’t last a week. I could go see one of the grief counselors on campus and ask for more pills, but I dismiss that idea immediately. I know they’re here to help, but I can’t bear the thought of retelling my story. Oliver’s story. It would take too much out of me.

If I took one, just one more, then I could sleep without seeing Oliver—without seeing Levi. I swallow the pharma dry. One down, sixteen to go.

When I wake up, I can’t breathe.

And it’s not a state of mind. I’m choking.

*

Panic floods my body as I realize I’m not hallucinating. I actually can’t breathe. I gasp for air, but instead of oxygen, I get a mouthful of cold water. What’s happening to me? Where am I? A memory flashes across my mind: the time I fainted as a kid after getting a flu shot. I woke up spread-eagled on the floor of the doctor’s office, unsure of my name or how I got there. It was terrifying. It’s how I feel now.