Fated

ground to chance, I’m left with no choice but to wait. So I squeeze into the corner, hoping that soon, someone will push their way in, so I can seize the moment to sneak out.
    The door opens, banging so hard against the wall I cram into the corner and give silent thanks for the little rubber stopper that keeps it from doing any real damage. Watching as a pair of knee-high black boots, pointy-toed red flats, and sky-high silver stilettos walk in—trying to determine just the right moment to make my move when I realize the shoes belong to Lita and the Cruel Crew. And from what I can tell, they’re discussing me.
    “What’s up with that jacket she wears?” the girl with the bright pink lips says, who, according to Xotichl, is either Jacy or Crickett, though I’m not sure which is which.
    “Seriously,” the other one echoes, the one with the best blond highlights of the bunch. “What’s up with all of it?” she adds, looking to Lita for approval—they both do.
    I glance between the door and them—it’s closing but is still open enough to provide an easy escape. If I make a run for it right now, there’s no way they’ll notice me and I’ll be well on my way.
    I’m just about to do exactly that when Lita heads for the mirror, stands right before it, and says, “I don’t know…”
    The door’s closing—one second more and I’ll have to wait ’til they leave.
    I start to move, start to make a run for it, my legs short, spindly, but powerful nonetheless, propelling me forward faster than I ever would’ve imagined. But just as I’ve reached it, pink lips heads for my stall—the one the real me is currently occupying—as opposed to the obviously empty one right beside it with the door hanging wide open.
    I freeze. Unable to risk it. If she somehow manages to push her way in, if the lock I double-checked somehow fails, she will catch me slumped over the toilet seat—my body present, my consciousness in limbo—and I will never live it down.
    I slip back to my corner, it’s the only thing I can do. Antennae twitching with frustration when she finally gives up and claims a vacant stall, just as the bathroom door closes—my perfect chance for escape now lost.
    Except it’s not.
    Not entirely.
    Not for something as small as a cockroach.
    That same paper towel I avoided before must’ve been inadvertently kicked by one of their heels, as it’s now firmly lodged between the door frame and the door. Leaving a crack just wide enough for me to slip through and get on with the job Paloma sent me to do.
    I creep toward it. Keeping a close eye on Lita still standing before the mirror, cupping a hand around each breast, heaving them higher into her bra, as she smiles seductively at her own reflection, and says, “Take that, Cade Richter.”
    She rubs her lips together, fluffs her hair around her shoulders, and when she twists her head from side to side so she can verify just how pretty she is, I can’t help but agree. I mean, she could certainly learn a thing or two from Jennika on the proper application of eyeliner—and the highlights could definitely be a lot better—but she’s still pretty. And no matter how awful she’s been to me, it breaks my heart that she’s so willing to waste that beauty on Cade.
    I’m so engrossed in my thoughts, it takes a minute to register when she says, “Anyway … I think her boots are kind of cool.” Returning to a conversation I was sure had already ended.
    Her statement causing pink lips to cough in her stall—as the other one gapes at the sink beside Lita’s, striving to adjust to this new way of seeing me. Quickly recovering when she says, “Yeah, and her jeans are cool too.” Shooting Lita a sidelong glance, eager to get a jump-start on agreeing with her before pink lips has a chance to bang out of the stall.
    Lita rolls her eyes as though she’s sick of being surrounded by suck-ups, even though it’s obvious she wouldn’t have it any other way. Sighing deeply as she says, “I’m talking about the boots. The jeans are common. But the boots …”
    Common if you buy all your clothes in Europe! I start to say. Until I realize I can’t.
    I’m a cockroach.
    A cockroach with a mission.
    I have no business caring about this kind of nonsense.
    “I’m so glad you said that,” pink lips says, taking her place on the other side of Lita. “Because all this time I’ve been secretly thinking they were awesome.”
    Oh, brother. I creep forward, eager to