Lily's Games

Lily’s saccharine smile was a weapon, honed to a razor’s edge beneath its sugary sheen. She’d appeared at Rosie’s locker like a perfectly arranged bouquet, all bright colors and cloying fragrance, just as Rosie was fumbling with a stubborn textbook.

“Oh, Rosie, honey, are you having trouble?” Lily’s voice dripped with manufactured concern, a delicate hand hovering as if to offer assistance, but never quite touching. “Let me help you with that. You always seem to have so much on your plate, with school and, you know, everything else.”

Rosie, still reeling from Noah’s latest veiled threat that morning – a crumpled note tucked into her gym bag, promising to “make her remember” – could only offer a weak, confused smile. “It’s okay, Lily. I’ve got it.”