Misbehavior I give up on sleep sometime after 3 am, and shove the tangled sheets off my restless legs. My pillow is a mangled lump, smeared with yesterday’s mascara. Between crying over my idiot brother’s stupid mouth and doing my damnedest not to dream, I’ve slept maybe an hour.The mirror isn’t kind this morning, either. I give it the finger and notice my nail is chipped. I find a file and my brightest red polish, Cardinal Rhapsody. If Julian wants to call me a slut, I’ll give him reason to.Faye is already gone when I get out of the shower. A note on the desk says she is at the library and will meet me at the study room. I’d faked sleep when she’d come in last night, all glowing smiles and dancing in her boots. She’d reached for her phone twice, changed her mind and set it down. I’d almost ‘woken up’ to ask her if the performing arts cutie with the gingery hair was the one to walk her home.I lace up my most outrageous sandals, tug down the hem of my shortest skirt, and smooth a flyaway wisp of hair into my ponytail before walking out the door, five dollar bill in my hand for the fanciest coffee I can buy.
