Loop by Karen Akins

roommate, Mimi, marched into the room, hands on her hips. “Charlie said he almost had to trigger a forced fade. Are you okay?”
    Wyck snapped his head up. “A forced fade?”
    “No!” No red flags. I waved the question off and walked toward Mimi. “It was nothing. Log out! ’Night, Wyck.”
    I pushed Mimi out the door and down the hall before Wyck had a chance to ask me anything else. Her blond ponytail whacked me in the face as she swung her head around.
    “Seriously, are you all right? Do you need any of my meal rations? That was a long mission … how are you on Buzztabs?”
    “Bergin took pity and gave me an override,” I said, “and I’m fine on Buzztabs.” Too fine.
    “Well, I’m glad you’re back. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Pennedy and Teague broke up. Can you believe it?”
    When I didn’t chime in with a comment about our friends’ romantic woes, Mimi waved her hand in front of my face. “Are you really okay? You usually put the rest of us to shame on mission times.”
    Used to. I felt a fresh wave of thankfulness that Mimi had known me long enough and was kind enough to not judge me by the last six months.
    “I lost track of time,” I said.
    I turned away and wrinkled my nose. I’d never lied to Mimi. But something about the … the weirdness of it all held my tongue. That and the fact that if one breath of my encounter with a Shifter got out, there would be no chance of another job from Leto. No chance to pay off my mother’s bills. I’d face suspension and be lucky if they stopped there.
    When Mimi and I got to our room, I flopped face-first on my bed. The pillow wrapped my head in sateen silence. I tried to lift my arms, but the most I achieved was a thumb twitch. Ehh, pajamas shmajamas. Images from the day swirled against my eyelids—green lights and lip gloss tubes and Finn’s sandy sneakers. Thinking about his shoes gave me a sunken feeling in my stomach for some reason, but I pushed it away. And then I felt a gentle tug on my own boots.
    I lifted one eye off the pillow to watch as Mimi lined them up perfectly under the funky-painted chair Mom had made for me. It really was a miracle Mimi and I were as close as we were, given our opposite everything . Her side of the room was all white and pink and sleek. Mine was … me. Piles of clothes sorted into clean and not-quite-dirty-enough-for-laundry. My pet fish, Fran, who was still alive by some miracle. (Although that miracle probably went by the name of Mimi.) A bunch of movie posters. I even had a real paper one. I’d inherited Mom’s obsession for anything antique, along with the inability to keep it organized.
    “Mimi?” I asked. Only my face was still in the pillow, so it came out, “Mrehmreh?”
    “Hmmm?” She sat down at the vanity and ran a brush through her honey silk hair.
    My own chin-length bob was a windblown mess. I blew a few brown hairs out of my face as I turned to talk to her. I was one of the only girls at the Institute who kept their hair short. Most Shifters wouldn’t take the risk. On a whim the year before, Mimi had cropped her hair into the cutest pixie cut, then had to trigger an emergency fade two days later burning at a stake in Salem. Needless to say, she used a wig while her hair grew out.
    “I’m glad you’re my roomie,” I said.
    I expected her to respond with a simple, Me, too, but instead she tossed her hairbrush on the counter mid-stroke. Before I could say anything else, she bounded across the room and flounced on my bed next to me. She smooshed me up in a lung-crushing hug.
    “As you should be.”
    We both busted out giggling, and the tension of the day dissipated. Mimi sat up next to me and smoothed my hair down, or at least the worse-offending side.
    “Seriously, though,” she said, giving my hand a tiny squeeze, “I’m the lucky one.”
    I started to squeeze it back until she added, “Remember that weirdie that Pennedy got stuck with first year? I could’ve ended up with