ARC: Crushed by Eliza Crewe

forcing herself to sit with me at meals. She’s a convenient friend to have – hair like that makes her easy to spot in a full cafeteria. I head that way.
    Another non-enemy is the jolly giant, Zebedee, or “Zee”, as I haven’t been invited to call her. She’s a friendly and terrifyingly large girl who, as far as I can tell, doesn’t hate anyone. If she did…well, I can only imagine it would be spectacular. She doesn’t exactly love me either, however. She regards me the same way I would a cat – like I’m distasteful, occasionally entertaining, and not to be trusted not to pee on the rug. Which is completely unfair – I only thought about it once.
    I had my reasons.
    There’s Chi, too, of course. And Jo, who doesn’t hate me – just everything I do, think, or say. Oh, and how I dress, too, apparently.
    And, lastly, there’s a small pack of wide-eyed innocents in awe of my Beacon-ness who follow me around expecting me to perform a miracle any minute. Sometimes I screw up my face like I’m trying. Or constipated. They don’t sit with us. I don’t let them.
    I plop in my usual seat across from Jo and next to Mags. The redheaded girl can’t help but jump at my sudden arrival. She tries, poor thing, but just because you believe a convict should be released doesn’t mean you’re comfortable inviting her to tea. I don’t give her grief about it. Much.
    Chi sits on Jo’s left. He still looks happily surprised every time she sits next to him and always drapes an arm around her. I suspect it’s because he’s too terrified to pinch her to make sure it’s real. As much time as they spend together, I would have thought the shock would have worn off by now, but then, Chi’s always been a slow study. The time Jo spends not policing me is spent in Chi’s pocket. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say he’s in hers. It’s hard to tell – it’s an Escher painting of in-each-other’s-pocketness. Had I foreseen how she’d abandon me, maybe I wouldn’t have tried so hard to help them get together. Every evening they’re off together, and I’m in my room desperately wishing for a TV with more than five channels. Or a computer. Or any form of entertainment from the twenty-first century.
    I wonder if she told him about my activities last night.
    Chi looks at me, wide-eyed and too innocent. “Sleep well last night, Meda?”
    Of course she did.
    Jo elbows Chi hard enough to make him “whoosh”, and throws “shut up” eyes at me, before pointedly looking at Zee and Mags, in conversation next to us.
    Hmmm… maybe I can toss Jo another victim to take my spot on her shit-list. I look at Chi angelically. “Why, yes, I did. Thank you, Chi.” I look down demurely, like I have no idea what he’s talking about. And like I love broccoli. For breakfast. Honestly, I think that’s the bigger lie. I snatch a bite to complete my disguise, even though the dinosaurs haven’t offered prayer yet.
    Chi’s never been much of a rule follower, plus he blindly trusts me, unlike Jo who’s far too clever and who knows me too well. He would find my escape an adventure, not a disaster. Sometimes I think I picked the wrong BFF.
    But I know I never picked her and she never picked me. The universe, God, or, I occasionally think, possibly the devil, picked us for each other. All I know is, whoever did it, has a phenomenal sense of humor.
    As predicted, Chi can’t let my ploy rest. His blue eyes sparkle. “Really? I heard you got hungry for a little midnight snack,” he says slyly.
    Jo elbows him again, hard enough to make him cough to cover his grunt. I crack and grin. Sometimes, I think the universe also has pretty good taste.
    She turns on me and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “What are you laughing at?”
    Blast. Looks like the shitlist’s got room for two. There are pros and cons to having a violent best friend with a ferocious temper: she’s almost always entertaining, but sometimes she wants to kill