Iva smiled. This time, it reached her eyes.
"Eat your breakfast," she said. "You need energy for that test."
Lori lifted her head just enough to glare at her.
"I'm eating under protest."
"That's fine."
"This is friendship betrayal."
"The highest kind."
Lori picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of egg with unnecessary violence. But she ate. And as she ate, some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
Iva watched her, storing up the image.
The way Lori's nose crinkled when she chewed. The way she hummed under her breath when she was thinking. The way morning light made her red hair look like spun copper.
“This is who you are,” Iva thought. “Not a title. Not a status. Just... Lori. My Lori.”
And soon, she would have to share her.
Not with the boy in the history class.
With Headm
