Page 4 of Movers and Fakers

“I wouldn’t do your work for you, not even for that much money. You’d have to actually study.”

A grin spreads across my face.

“Does that mean you’re going to do it?”

“It means I’m going to think about it,” she replies, her back still to me.

My pulse thrums with the thrill of a win.

“You won’t regret it!”

“Oh, I definitely will.”

Chapter three

The Decision

Aurora Driscoll

I open the door to apartment 504 and brace for impact. Given that I texted the roommate group chat that I had news to share, there’s bound to be a chaos tornado waiting for me in our living room.

“She’s here!” Saylor—one of my roommates—yells, making me wince.

Another roommate, Jasmine, pokes her head out of the kitchen where she spends most of her time. When she’s not with her quarterback boyfriend, that is.

“Did you get in?” she asks with a smile.

I slide off my sherpa-lined boots at the door and hang my backpack on the hook above them. Saylor is a clean freak and imposes a strict no-shoes rule. Since she cleans everything—including my room sometimes—I don’t mind abiding by her laws.

“Is Marigold here?” I ask instead of answering.

Jasmine’s smile widens. “You totally did! You wouldn’t ask otherwise. She’s on the couch.”

Jasmine leaves the kitchen, wiping her hands on the apron she has draped over her blue Thrashers Cheerleading sweat suit.

“She got in!” she squeals as she heads into the living room. I follow behind her, already feeling awkward with their expectant eyes trained on me.

Yeah, I don’t regret opening the letter in the hallway. I do, however, regret just about everything that happened after. It’s been a few hours since my talk with Hayes, and in that time I’ve done nothing but turn the situation over and over in my mind. All through classes and rehearsals the number he so casually threw out was on a loop in my brain.

One hundred thousand dollars.

He’d said it as though it was the same as a hundred dollars, and maybe to him it is. But to me? That kind of money would change my life. I’d be able to pay off the rest of my student loans, the ballet intensive program I got into, plus the other programs I’ve applied to for next year. And still have some left over.

“Aurora?” Jasmine draws me out of my thoughts. “Did I misunderstand? Did you not make the cut?” She worries with the edge of her apron from where she’s standing next to the coffee table that’s covered in Saylor’s medical textbooks and highlighters.

“No, I made it,” I say, and my three friends squeal in unison.

Saylor jumps up off the floor and rushes me. Her tiny arms wrap around my waist. I scrunch my face up at the show of affection but pat her back to let her know the sentiment is appreciated. Her face awkwardly presses into my chest because of how short she is compared to me.

“Saylor, let her breathe,” Marigold laughs from where she’s curled up beneath a burgundy quilt. Then she smiles at me. “Congratulations.”

“I told you that you would get in!” Saylor says as she pulls away, tipping her head back to grin at me.

“I’m glad you were right,” I say with a half smile.

“Tell us everything. When do you leave? Do you need help packing? Do you know what your room is going to look like? If you have pictures, I can make a diagram on the best way to—”

I cut Saylor’s excited ramble off. “I’ve got more news.”