Free Same Difference (9780545477215) by Siobhan Vivian Page A

to stand here and watch me sweat it out, but then Robyn and Adrian crane their heads around the wall. “You coming?” Robyn asks.
    â€œYeah,” Fiona says. And then she walks right past me like I’m not even there, like I’ve turned invisible.

I make sure to be the first person off the bus when we get back to the college. The other students laugh and talk behind me, discussing another night of adventures away from home. I walk until I can’t hear them, keeping my eyes locked on the William Penn statue at the top of City Hall.
    Even though I’m in a rush to get to the train station, I stop in the art supply store and buy myself a sketchbook. I don’t want to be caught without it again.
    Then I head toward the train, passing the people who window-shop the boutiques or contemplate the menus posted outside the restaurants. I try to be as mindless as they are, with no worries except will they buy this skirt, these pants, this blazer, or if they want a salad with walnuts. Except I can’t. I have bigger problems. Like the fact that I’ve been humiliated in front of everyone.
    As I shuffle through the crowds, I come upon Fiona. I know it’s her, even from a distance, by the pink hair falling over her shoulder in a stripe. She’s got earbuds in and the music is so loud I can hear it, even though I make sure to stay two full sidewalk squares behind her.
    Fiona’s ID hangs from a metal clip off her belt loop. It is red plastic like mine, which means she is also a commuter student and not living in the dorms. Which surprises me.
    I take advantage of the situation and creep behind her, close. I notice things that I didn’t before. Like how the insides of Fiona’s forearms are covered in thin red scratches and scrapes. There seem to be hundreds. But they are all too small to do any kind of real damage. They’re more like tiny paper cuts.
    When we both reach the train station, I let her loose in the crowd.
    I sit down on a bench and wait for my train. So far, the summer program hasn’t been such a great experience. I had the opportunity to reinvent myself in Philadelphia, but it feels wasted. Maybe it’s stupid to think that was possible in the first place. You are who you are, for better or worse. That’s why there are Fionas and there are Megs and there are Emilys. Someone has to be me.
    â€œHowdy.”
    I look up. It’s Fiona. One earbud is still tucked inside her ear, one dangles down with her necklaces. The music is still on.
    â€œHi,” I say.
    She crashes next to me. “I saw you following me before.”
    â€œUmm … what?”
    â€œBefore. Like five minutes ago before. On the way to the train station. The sun was behind you. Your shadow gave you away.”
    â€œI was just walking to the train station.” Fiona must think I am a complete weirdo. “So …” I say. “Sorry if you thought that.”
    â€œRiiiiight,” she says. “Well, did you look through the door?”
    I think about lying, but she’d catch me right away. “No.”
    Fiona slides a black marker out of her tote bag and starts drawing candy-cane stripes on the red high heel of her shoe. “I feel bad that I left you freaking out in the gallery like that. That was kind of a bitch move.”
    â€œI was fine,” I stress.
    â€œWhere are you from again?”
    â€œCherry Grove.”
    â€œSo you’re a Jersey girl, huh? I never would have guessed.”
    I know this kind of joking from pretty much every bad movie and television show. New Jersey is the state everyone makes fun of. “Yeah, but Cherry Grove is actually a pretty cool place. I mean, we’ve got a Starbucks.”
    â€œCongratulations.” I can almost hear her eyes rolling.
    It’s hard, when you realize someone is trying to lead you in a conversation, but you don’t know where she wants you to go. “I’m just saying, it’s