Zara
I didn’t plan to confront her after Gymnastics. My thighs burned from a dozen failed aerial flips, my palms chalk-dusted and trembling as I packed my shoes into my duffel bag. But when I saw Alex brushing her hair out at the mirror, all calm and radiant as if her entire life wasn’t a festering lie, the words spilled out before I could leash them.
“Why did you drug me at the masked event?”
She paused mid-stroke, her brush still tangled in her pale curls. Slowly, she turned, lips parting into a small amused smile. “Wow. Are we still on this?”
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I woke up in Atlas’s room with no memory of what happened after your drink. What did you put in it?”
She sighed dramatically, tossing her brush on
