"Xenia! Where the hell are you?!"
Xenia sniffed, wiping her cheek with a club napkin. "I went home."
"Oh God, girl, you gave me a heart attack. There was a murder! Literally a murder behind the club! Now I'm in the police station because everyone in the club got arrested! I told them I didn't even kill ants, but they won't listen. They said I look suspicious with my glitter boots!"
"You… what?" Xenia sat up straighter.
"I SWEAR! One guy died in the bathroom. I didn't even see him. I was busy getting rejected by the bartender. And now I'm stuck here with ten frat boys and one girl who peed in her sequin jumpsuit. I need help. Redacre precinct. Please. I don't want to be the next meme."
Xenia wiped her nose and tried to focus. "Zoe, I got dumped tonight."
There was a pause. "Fuck Steve. That idiot ruined everything. Everything was so perfect. You were perfect. You are perfect. And he just—"
"I know. But maybe it's my fault. I lied sometimes. I told him I was busy even when I was just reviewing. I missed our movie nights. I forgot to call him back."
Zoe's voice softened. "Xen, stop. You were trying to survive college. That boy couldn't handle someone who didn't orbit around him. You're a sun, babe. You don't shrink for fragile planets."
"Okay."
"Okay now come save me. Redacre Station. They need a witness or something. Please, before the press gets here and my mom sees my mugshot next to a murder headline. I will die. Actually die."
Xenia checked the time. 2:14 a.m.
Radarce was fifteen minutes away, tucked between old federal buildings and the ghost of what used to be a local news station. Once a proud district, now it was half abandoned and half under permanent construction. The police station still stood like an old war bunker, gray and weather-beaten, with buzzed-out fluorescents and chipped linoleum tiles.
When Xenia arrived, the lobby was chaos. A girl sobbing into a burrito blanket. A guy trying to flirt with a vending machine. Three officers standing behind the desk looking like they'd all aged ten years since midnight.
She approached the counter. "Hi. I'm here for Zoe Navarro? She called me. I'm her roommate."
One officer, Officer Mendez, motioned her to a side room. "You were with her tonight?"
"I was, at the club. We got separated."
"Did you see anything unusual before you left?"
Xenia hesitated. "No. Just regular club chaos. Drinks, dancing, nothing violent."
"Where were you around 1:00 a.m.?" Officer Ruiz, older, skeptical eyes, leaned forward.
Xenia kept her voice steady. "Outside. I stepped out early. Got a call from my boyfriend—well, ex. I walked around a bit and went back to the dorm."
"Did you notice anyone acting strange?"
"I mean… a couple making out by a dumpster, but I didn't stick around."
Mendez raised a brow. "Any details?"
"Girl in white heels. Guy in a hoodie. Didn't see faces. Just weird vibes. I assumed they were just… drunk."
Ruiz leaned back. "There was a death in the club bathroom. Blunt trauma. Some witnesses think it was Zoe."
Xenia blinked. "Zoe? No. She was with me most of the time. The only time we separated was when I got the call."
"She gave your name. Said you could confirm."
"She didn't do it," Xenia said firmly. "She's dramatic and chaotic and probably cried if someone killed a roach near her, but she didn't do this."
The officers exchanged a look. Finally, Mendez sighed. "Alright. We're releasing her. Just… keep her away from clubs for a while."
"Trust me. That was the last time," Xenia muttered.
Zoe came out wrapped in a police blanket, mascara trailing like war paint.
"You saved my life," she whispered, then louder, "I LOOKED LIKE A KILLER, XENIA!"
"Let's go home."
°°°°°°°°°°°
Day 2
"Mom, it's me Xenia. It's my graduation. Will you please come for me? I have a surprise for you."
She balanced the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she curled another section of her hair. Chestnut strands wrapped perfectly around the iron, steam hissing with each twist. Her voice had been rehearsed to sound cheerful, effortless, like it didn't matter how many times she had to ask to be seen.
Her mom answered a beat too late. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. We're on vacation right now. Your stepdad has this urgent project in Solmere. A big contract. He couldn't say no—and, well, I'm helping with the finances since his secretary called in sick yesterday with a fever."
Of course. Of course it was about a contract.
"As much as I want to be there, sweetie, I really can't. Did you ask your dad? Maybe he's available?"
Xenia's eyes didn't blink as she looked at her reflection. The curling iron clicked off. "I haven't yet."
That was a lie.
She had called her dad three times already that week. The calls didn't go through. Voicemail. No signal. Maybe he was camping. Or hiding. Or just… out of range. That's what he always was—out of range.
"Okay, Mom. Thanks anyway." Her voice cracked like an old vinyl, but she ended the call before it could fall apart completely. The 'call ended' screen stared back at her like punctuation at the end of a failed sentence.
She exhaled slowly and placed the curler down. Her chest felt tight, like she'd taken in too much air and her lungs didn't know what to do with it. She stared at the girl in the mirror—perfect curls, fresh eyeliner, foundation hiding the tired shadows from last night's breakdown. She should look happy today. Instead, she looked like someone pretending to be in her own body.
Behind her, Zoe walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and enough confidence to fill a stadium. Her face gleamed with moisturizer, and she was already humming something upbeat under her breath.
"Chin up. Don't pout like that—you need to wear your brightest smile later. You're the main event, babe."
Xenia turned her eyes slightly, not bothering to fake a grin. "I know, but… it just sucks. No one in my family wants to see my wins."
Zoe paused, mid-pat of serum. "Oof. That's heavy."
"I mean…" Xenia exhaled again and rubbed her eyes, careful not to smudge the eyeliner. "My mom's in Solmere, literally 14 kilometers away, and she still said she can't come. My dad's MIA again. It's like... this is supposed to be my moment, right? But there's no one in the audience cheering for me. Not really."
Zoe crossed the room and plopped on her bed dramatically. "Well, I'll be there. And you know what? My mom's coming too. So after the ceremony, the three of us are eating at the fanciest restaurant in Solmere. You'll feel like you've got backup parents for the day."
Xenia let out a tired laugh, one that started small and broke somewhere in the middle. "Your mom always liked me more than you."
"Facts," Zoe said without offense. "She says you've got 'discipline' and I've got 'vibrancy,' which I'm 90% sure is code for 'chaotic drama gremlin.'"
Xenia looked at her, really looked, and felt a small flicker of gratitude in her chest. Zoe didn't always say the right thing—but she always stayed. When Xenia hid in their dorm to finish research papers during birthdays, when she canceled dates to rewrite her thesis outline, when she cried over Steven while pretending she didn't care—Zoe had stayed.
"I just wish I had… one picture," she said softly, sitting back on the bed beside her friend. "One photo of the three of us. Mom. Dad. Me. A normal family. It's like I was an accident that no one really wanted to frame."
Zoe turned to her slowly. "Hey. That's not on you. You're not the accident—they were. The real accident was letting you feel like you had to earn love through achievements. That's their mess, not yours."
Xenia blinked fast. She hated crying before ceremonies—it made her eyeliner run and her face swell just enough to ruin every selfie angle.
"Thanks," she whispered. "But that doesn't change the fact that I've spent four years trying to prove I deserve a seat at a table they'll never show up to."
"You're right," Zoe said. Then she stood, drying her hands on her towel like a coach preparing for halftime. "But lucky for you, you've got me. And I brought a whole foldable table."
Xenia laughed again, this time without the crack.
There was a knock at the door. Outside, the hallway buzzed with noise—other seniors scrambling to iron robes, print last-minute speeches, or sneak in final selfies. Westburned Dorm was old, slightly yellowed with age, but filled with a thousand endings and beginnings. Somewhere, a kettle whistled. Someone was blasting a remix of A Thousand Miles. It was graduation season, and everything smelled like perfume, panic, and borrowed futures.
Zoe walked to the closet and began digging through a pile of glittery tote bags.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting the emergency lashes. This face is too powerful to be presented half-glammed."
Xenia sat a little taller, curling one more lock into place. Her eyes lingered on her inbox. Professor Zy had just sent another reminder about her speech.
Subject line: "Crystalline Legacy: You're It, Valedictorian."
She opened the draft again.
"Today is not just about crossing a stage, but about surviving what it took to get there..."
She looked up at Zoe.
"Let's survive this in heels?"
Zoe smirked. "And look damn good doing it."