4. GRWM
“She’s still in her room,” Olivia H-T says.
It’s time, Davi thinks. She’d hoped Charley Hicks would approach her—wave, say hello, smile at her in the bathroom mirror—but it’s been quite a while and she has remained occult (“beyond the range of ordinary knowledge; mysterious”).
Davi hunts for the First Dance dress she packed before her mother (in an attempt to make amends for the hellscape their home life had become) presented her with an Out of Office custom creation—neon purple, bedazzled with Swarovski crystals, cut with diamond-shaped holes.
Although Davi hates her mother (hates both of her parents, if she’s being honest), she can’t not wear the dress.
Davi remembers First Dance as a third-former when the whole grade wore tie-dye and they gathered in the common room to crop their shirts with safety scissors in an attempt to elevate the look (aka make them as slutty as possible).
Davi feels a sudden rush of altruism (“the practice of selfless concern”): She wants to give Charley a good First Dance experience.
She rummages through the basket of costumes that lives on the floor of her closet.
She’d snapped Cinnamon the night before and Cinnamon had left her on read, which was sort of weird, but when Davi tiptoed down the hall after lights-out and pressed her ear against Cinnamon’s door, she heard faint guitar chords.
Cinnamon was playing herself to sleep, something she did when she was anxious.
Fine, Davi wouldn’t bother her. In the morning, Davi texted as usual to see what Cinnamon’s day was like.
They were both doing community service as an afternoon activity, but they had recently gotten back their PSAT scores and Davi’s verbal score was abysmal (“extremely bad; appalling”)—so now, Davi adds to a list of potential testing words with definitions in the notes app of her phone.
Davi was planning on switching out of community service so she could take an online SAT prep course. She was hoping Cinnamon would join her, even though Cinnamon’s score was far superior to Davi’s.
There was no answer to her text. Davi went to the bathroom, but Cinnamon wasn’t at the sink as usual. Also sort of weird; the girl was programmed like a robot.
When Davi got out of the shower and completed her skin care routine—her followers had been begging for another getting ready video but TBH, Davi was growing sick of her followers—she padded back down the hall in the new fluffy pink slippers that Gucci sent her and, once in her room, checked her phone.
No text back. Davi considered going down to knock on Cinnamon’s door, but instead she FaceTimed. No answer.
Davi texted: Girl pick up.
She got dressed and filmed a GRWM video for TikTok, though she was half-hearted about it.
She grabbed her backpack thinking she and Cinnamon would snag the Booth for breakfast since they were early.
It was Monday, which meant sausage and biscuits, and tonight was Burger Night and Piano Bar, which Cinnamon loved. That would cheer her up.
There was no answer when she knocked, and when Davi pressed her ear to the door, she heard nothing. “Cin?” she said. “I’m coming in?”
The door was locked. But no, not possible, the doors in the dorms didn’t lock, which meant what? Cinnamon had jammed it?
“Cinnamon!” Davi shouted.
There was no response. She turned around. Olivia H-T was standing in the hallway. “Call Mr. James,” Davi said.
“Ew, no,” Olivia H-T said.
Mr. James was the one who patrolled the Schoolhouse and God’s Basement for kids having sex, and everyone thought he got off on it.
He’d once leered at Tilly Benbow’s boobs, apparently.
Davi liked Mr. James—he drove Davi to class in his Gator when she slipped on the ice and sprained her ankle in winter of third-form.
“Fine,” Davi said. “I’ll go get Ms. Robbie.”
Davi’s throat constricts as she remembers how Ms. Robinson and Mr. James forced open Cinnamon’s door. Davi was hovering and Ms. Robbie shouted at her, Stand back, stay in the hallway! And then she heard Ms. Robinson cry out.
Davi takes a deep breath. She’s here at Room 111 on a mission for good. Charley is probably having an outfit crisis, and Davi will be her savior. Davi knocks.
“What,” Charley says.
Davi opens the door to find Charley sitting at her desk reading The Talented Mr. Ripley.
Davi blinks; she uses her desk solely for filming makeup videos.
She automatically goes to plop down on what she can only think of as “Cinnamon’s bed” when she notices a tower of milk crates stacked into bookshelves and a whole corner of the room that looks like a greenhouse.
There must be a dozen houseplants. A copper watering can sits on top of Charley’s mini fridge.
Cute? Davi thinks. Or weird?
“Sorry to bother!” Davi says. “Everyone’s getting ready for the dance, and I figured you might not have the right dress since this is your first year, so I brought you one.”
Charley doesn’t look up from her book. Rude, Davi thinks.
“Each class has its own outfit for First Dance,” Davi says. “Fifth-form girls wear… these.” She stares down at the neon mess in her hands.
Charley finally raises her eyes and grimaces. “That looks like one of the stress balls I used to beg my mom for at Five Below,” she says.
Davi smiles. “In London, we’d get them at Home Bargains. You’re right, they do have a certain… semblance. You’re quite clever, aren’t you?”
Charley blinks.
“Well, anyway, here you go. It’ll fit, I think.”
“Thanks,” Charley says. “But I’m reading tonight.”
“What?” Davi says.
“I’m not going to the dance,” she says.
“You can’t miss First Dance,” Davi says.
Charley turns back to her book.
Davi knows she can wear this girl down, though why does she want to?
Charley is such a freak, maybe the biggest freak to attend Tiffin in Davi’s tenure.
But there’s a challenge to it (and if Davi were honest, she would admit to being a little bored socially).
She would love to post the transformation of Charley Hicks on her TikTok—from weird to normal in a few short weeks. Viral, for sure.
But… she only has thirty minutes left to get ready, and she hasn’t even started her body glitter. She leaves the dress draped across the bed; it really is hideous, but who is Davi to argue with Tiffin tradition?
“The dance starts at nine. It’ll be fun, I promise,” Davi says. She takes a beat. “Even East goes.” This is a flat-out lie. East never goes to First Dance.
Charley doesn’t move, but Davi notices a slight change in her facial expression at the mention of East’s name and rolls her eyes.
“Why did you come here?” Davi says. The words sound belligerent (“hostile and aggressive”), but Davi is genuinely curious. Rumor has it this chick was a lock for valedictorian at her high school back in Maryland.
Charley gives Davi a decent stare down, and Davi feels a grudging respect. “There were some things at home I wanted to get away from,” Charley says.
Well, Davi thinks, she and Charley have that in common. “Fair enough. Have a good night.”
Davi opens the door and hears A Boogie blasting on the JBL speaker, everyone singing along. When Davi pops into the bathroom, Olivia H-T turns down “My Shit” and everyone crowds around, waiting for the tea.
“She’s not going,” Davi says.
“What?” Olivia H-T exclaims. “She does realize who you are, right? She should be grateful you’re taking an interest.”
Davi shrugs. Olivia H-T is a suck-up, and Davi is weary of suck-ups (which are basically every one of her friends).
“She’s reading,” Davi says. Charley Hicks will probably get a perfect verbal score on her SAT, and for one crazy second, Davi entertains the idea of staying home and studying herself.
Haha! Is she losing it? She turns the music up.
She would like everyone else to back off and find their own pathetic weirdo to save.
As the girls sing lyrics into the mirror, Davi runs a hand through her bob. She misses her long hair; next to her, Tilly Benbow throws up an effortless messy bun. Olivia H-T blends out her contour and takes a selfie.
Davi sighs. She longs for Cinnamon.