So I whisper, ‘I’m sorry, Tippi,’ because I can’t lie and pretend the throat clearing meant nothing.
Not with her.
Truth: It’s what happens when you’re bound like we are by a body too stubborn to peel itself apart at conception.
Uniform Unlike Dragon’s school where they can wear what they like, Hornbeacon expects all students to wear uniforms— bright white shirts, stripy green ties, a plaid skirt
with pleats down the front. The idea
is to make everyone look the same. I know that. But it doesn’t matter how we dress. We will always
stand out,
and trying to look like everyone else is stupid. ‘It isn’t too late to back out,’ Tippi says.
‘But we agreed to go,’ I reply, and Tippi clicks her tongue.
‘I was forced into saying yes. You think I want this?’ she asks. She tugs at the tie knotted around her neck, pulling it up and into a noose.
