The Thrashers

by Julie Soto

But she was thankful now that the forty-degree evening in the rose garden wouldn’t drop to eighteen degrees while they were there. She wore two pairs of leggings, UGG knockoffs, and three layers on top with a beanie around her ears. Julian scanned her up and down. “You look like you’re about to rob a bank.” She glared back at him and tugged the beanie off her head under the pretense of straightening her hair, and then never put it back on. She slipped into the back seat of Zack’s car beside Paige.

“Okay, so like, the biggest thing,” Kiera started, her voice all California valley inflections, “is that everyone has to be united. So if anyone thinks this is stupid or that Emily won’t actually talk to us, you have to like, get rid of that.” Julian mimed tugging something out of his temple and tossing it away.

“It’s not fair that you can shave your hair—your career-defining hair—and still look this good.” “It was never just the hair.” He took her in, his eyes scanning her face, memorizing. “Do you want me to say something about how you look now?” “No, that would be a little tawdry, since you’re incarcerated.”