“Mr. Andersen, Vancouver’s favorite awkward boy, what’s on your lock screen?” Garrett’s already snickering, phone ready in his hand. “Carter. Carter, are you watching?” He flashes his phone screen: a photo of Jennie’s reflection in the mirror of her dance studio. “Wow, a photo of my beautiful sister,” Carter mutters, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it’s my-my”—he squeezes his eyes shut, and very real tears drip out of them as he shakes with laughter—“my pregame meal!” “You motherfucker!” Carter hollers, taking off down the hall after a squealing Garrett. “Sisterfucker,” Lennon corrects under her
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