The Classix

(OLD) Chapter 33

Note: Your favorite Slytherin double updated.

AND WHILE YOU READ LISTEN TO THE AMAZING FANTASTIC MAGICAL SONG INSPIRED BY THE FAMOUX THAT'S ATTACHED TO THE UPDATE. I've been listening to it for months now and I just now realized that I never shared it with you. Please listen and give it some love!

PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: Emeray's spiraling out of control. She thinks she saw Foster. Did she? Was he even there? How'd she get that ring? What? What?????

emeray

    Maybe it's an aftershock from seeing him, but it feels as if some unseen force is compelling me to emulate Foster Farrand. There's no other reason to explain my sudden urge to be social: On the walk back to the stage where Cartney's explaining his songs, I take the time to stop at every single pack of people I see, saying hello and ask each person about themselves.

    What is your name? Your job? Oh, really?

    It takes at least two hours to get through the club.

    I don't quite know why I'm so suddenly insistent on meeting people. If I could have it my way, I'd never make small talk with a group again. But the basic questions, the forced smiles––it all takes me back to the Polaroid Party, back when getting people to be my friend was the only thing we were worried about. DEFED hadn't given threats to the whole Famoux yet. Their lives weren't on the line. Foster was alive.

    Things weren't perfect by any means, but everything was so fresh and new that it looked perfect enough.

    As I approach each group, they're taken by surprise as much as Lacey was earlier in the night. I don't blame any of them for it, though––for the past few months Cartney and I have been quite the recluses at every party we've attended. Hell, we're supposed to be recluses tonight, and it's Cartney's party. And yet, here I am.

    Perhaps my sudden act of friendliness is a breath of fresh air to some. Perhaps it doesn't seem genuine others. Each person I shake hands with provides a variety of different reactions.

    " . . . And you're modeling now?" I ask a girl named Noelle. She's standing with three other girls, all of whom introduced themselves to me as close friends of Kaytee, not Cartney. I'm not sure if that statement is actually valid, but it surely succeeds in adding a layer of tension to the conversation.

    She nods, curt. Her replies to me thus far have either been short or comprised of wordless gestures.

    "That's really cool," I say, straining my smile. "You know my Fanatix member Gerald? He's a model too."

    "Oh?"

    "He had his first photoshoot a couple days ago. He actually had me step in to be a model for a few of the pictures."

    At this, one of Noelle's friends starts laughing.

    "Excuse me?" I ask.

    She shakes her head, a smirk lingering on her face. "I just––I didn't know that you were a model too now."

    "What?"

    "Modeling isn't just something you can step all over like your little acting and singing ventures––you know that, right? It takes more than that."

    Her boldness strikes like a blow I haven't felt in a long time. As her whole group struggles to contain their chuckling, my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

    Norax's face comes back with a blink.

    Disappointment.

    "Well." I turn my attention back to Noelle, fighting to keep calm. Fighting fire with fire isn't going to make me look any better. "Maybe I could talk to Gerald about doing a shoot with you."