First thing the next morning, I had one foot out the suite door when Mindy blocked it.
"You're seriously leaving?"
"Going home. Doctor's orders."
She caught my sleeve, smiling. "It's two days, Jaz. Shoot Friday, then go. First time I've ever treated — it's nothing without you."
"I can't stand up straight from throwing up."
"Then I'll walk you to Campus Health. A couple days on fluids and you'll be fine by Friday."
"Fluids don't fix this. I need an endoscopy back home."
Her smile thinned a little.
"Hospitals everywhere do endoscopies. There's one right in town."
"Mindy." I looked straight at her. "Why do you need me here so badly?"
She froze — then whipped out her phone and shoved a payment screen in my face.
"Look, I already paid the deposit. It's booked for six. If anyone no-shows, there's a penalty."
"How much? I'll Venmo you right now."
The smile fell off her face.
"It's not about the money!"
"Then what is it about?"
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Then she stepped in front of my suitcase and lowered her voice.
"Jaz. If you're not there Friday, I'm going to have a very hard time explaining myself."
Explaining.
I made myself ask it one word at a time. "You're treating your own friends to photos. Explaining to who?"
She flinched.
For one second I saw real fear in her eyes.
The next second she had the smile pasted back on.
"I just mean the photographer's schedule — he blocked out the whole day—"
"One fewer girl and his day gets easier."
"Jaz, what is WRONG with you?" Her voice cracked upward. "I'm paying for you, and you're interrogating me like a suspect?"
Someone down the hall poked their head out to look.
I let it slide. "Move, please. I have a bus."
She didn't budge.
"Mindy. Move."
A few seconds of standoff. Then she finally stepped aside.
From behind me, as I hit the stairs: "You've never trusted me. Not once."
I didn't turn around.
It's not you I don't trust.
It's the person behind you — the one I can't see.
At the bus stop, I did three things.
First, I opened our shared iCloud album and wiped every photo of me that Mindy could see. Two years as roommates — there were hundreds. Front-facing, profile, laughing, not laughing.
Second, something I'd half-forgotten crawled back up.
Last semester, Mindy borrowed my face.
She was registering for some app that required "identity verification." Her own face kept failing, so she asked me to help — just "look at the camera and blink twice."
I hadn't thought twice about it at the time.
Now my scalp prickled in waves.
I sat on that bench and killed Face ID on my phone and face-login on every app that had it, then changed all my passwords.
Third, I texted my RA: If anything weird happens in our suite while I'm gone, call me first. Day or night.
I hit send as the bus pulled away.
My phone buzzed once. Mindy's last message:
"You'll regret passing up this opportunity."
I stared at it for a long time.
Opportunity?
Since when is a free photoshoot an opportunity?
An opportunity for who?
I held down the power button and made myself a promise: the phone stays off until Saturday.
No matter what.
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