Hotlanta by Mitzi Miller Page B

Principal Trumbull first thing in the morning. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” And without waiting for a response from either of the two, Sydney hung up her phone.
    Blessed silence immediately surrounded Sydney like the summer-weight down comforter she’d been camped out underneath since she arrived home from two hours of an after-schoolchemistry tutorial. For the past couple of days her phone had been ringing nonstop. If it wasn’t her best friends trying to stage an A&E-worthy intervention for what they’d wrongly diagnosed as an SAT stress-induced meltdown, then it was Marcus repeatedly calling on the super damage-control mission for the “lack of attention” he’d been showing her lately. Funny how a little jealousy could get a brother back on track.
    The scene in the cafeteria played itself over and over in Sydney’s mind. Even though she could no longer recall everything word for word, the intensity of her anger when she spied Dara’s hand lazily touching Marcus’s knee under the table still made the hairs on her neck stand at attention. Not to mention the astonished looks on the faces of everyone within earshot of her final comment as she walked out. It was painfully obvious that her outburst on Tuesday had exposed everyone to a new side of Sydney. Granted, she may have been completely justified on every count of her behavior, from the elbow jab to the slick final comment, but at the end of the day, this was not a good look for the girl who had built her rep on maintaining perfect poise under pressure.
    To make matters worse, despite the flowers, phone calls, and little love notes he left in her locker, something still didn’t sit right with Sydney about Marcus’s relationship with Dara. Which further complicated what was supposed to be a very discreet reconciliation process. Instead of spending quality time together, reestablishing their bonds of trust, she foundherself ducking him at all costs. Which led to more questions from Carmen and Rhea. Like the small thread in that favorite hand-knitted cashmere scarf, one good yank and the entire thing just falls apart.
    â€œOww,” Sydney whimpered as she gently dragged herself up and pushed the covers back. Using a technique she had learned from Jean-Claude during her last Reiki session, Sydney slowly massaged each temple to relieve some of the pressure as she walked across her bedroom into the adjacent bathroom. Working only with the dim light from the star-shaped nightlight, Sydney searched her medicine cabinet for any type of pain-relief medication. Finally locating the bottle of Aleve, she closed the medicine cabinet. Sydney paused for a moment to take in her reflection in the mirror. “It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine…even Jackie O had to deal with Marilyn. You’re Sydney Duke and you were built for this.” The words of her little pep talk rang hollow in her own ear. Sighing, she opened the bottle and quickly popped two pills into her mouth. A gulp of tap water and Sydney turned back toward the beckoning bed. Just as she eased back into the warm spot under the covers, the sound of the front door being slammed closed echoed through the entire house.
    â€œCan you believe that mess JV wants to call a routine?” Sydney couldn’t help but hear Lauren screech incredulously. Her question was promptly followed by the sound of high-pitched laughter that could only belong to oneperson—Dara. Sydney grabbed one of her extra pillows and slammed it over her head to try to block the noise from below.
    â€œI mean, seriously…And not for nothing: Is Jazmin putting on weight? ‘Cause your girl ain’t been hitting her herky jumps at all! And those knees are looking a little Beyoncé big, if you know what I’m saying?” Lauren proclaimed to the obvious enjoyment of Dara, whose laughter became increasingly shriller by the second.
    â€œOhmigod, I was thinking the