SOPHIE
River is waiting at my locker Wednesday morning with a duffel bag like we're about to storm a beach.
"What is that."
"Emergency Meeting Kit." He unzips it with the solemnity of a man defusing a bomb. "Granola bars, in case you get hangry mid-testimony. A stress ball shaped like a tiny Earth, because regular stress balls felt insufficient for the scale of this. And—" he pulls out a laminated index card "—approved talking points, so you don't accidentally apologize to Nathan for existing."
"I laminated the backup card," Avery says, holding up a second one. "In case River's gets emotional and he cries on it."
"I don't cry on documents."
"You cried on my SAT practice test."
"That was allergies."
I lean against my locker and just look at them, this absurd little war room they've
