Rin

A content sigh slipped out of me as I sank into the tub as best I could. The day hung around me alongside the steam from the water, all vapor and ghosts. I didn’t bother waving them away; they seeped into me like the heat that soaked into my bones.

I’d read over Bianca’s email a hundred times on the train ride home, trying to sort through how I’d missed the mark and chastising myself for not messaging her to confirm what she wanted. I’d thought I’d save face, but in the end, I’d only looked worse. And to think, I’d gone into Dr. Lyons’s office thinking I’d actually done something right.

So naive.

I’d messed up, and Bianca was pissed. Dr. Lyons was disappointed or affirmed. Or both. And as a result, I would spend another day with Medici in the archives where I would hopefully begin to rectify my mistake.

It was an unmitigated disaster—my job, my day, my life. I was a disaster, from my inability to perform simple tasks, like talking and walking, to surviving in public and professional environments.

I wish I were kidding about the walking part. My Korean genes didn’t know how to drive all that extra arm and leg, as evidenced by the bruises all over my legs. I lifted one of the long appendages out of the water, inspecting my shin, which sported blossoms of color from deep purple to fading puce in shapes from strawberries to slashes. I sighed, returning it to the water, all but the span of my mid-thigh to just under my knee.

Disaster. Total and complete mess.

Claudius hopped up onto the edge of the tub, his tail flicking as he watched his reflection, and I reached for my book, eyeing him, imagining what would happen if he fell in. And once he finally moved on and took his claws with him, I read. I read until my brain was quiet and the water had cooled so much that, when I moved, currents of chilly water mingled with the warmer water around my body, sending goosebumps down my legs and up my spine.

I popped the plug and hauled myself out, wrapping myself up in a big, fluffy maroon bathrobe before wandering into Amelia’s room. I found her curled up in her bed with her Kindle propped up on a pillow, her flaxen hair in a messy bun. She looked like a painting, bathed in golden light, her bedding white and her clothes colorless. She smiled when she saw me, shifting to make room.

“Hey,” she said as I climbed in with her.

“Hey,” I echoed.

“Was work any better today?”

“No.”

Her smile fell. “I was afraid of that when you got straight into the tub without saying hello. What happened?”

I stretched out on my back and stared up at her ceiling. “I spent all day researching the wrong thing. I was so sure I was going to nail it, that they’d congratulate me on a job well done and pat me on the head. But instead, I got in trouble.”

“Oh, Rin,” she said without pity, just commiseration.

I sighed, the sound heavy and long. “It’s like I don’t know what to do without a syllabus. The second I walked into the research library—where there are clear rules and facts, bibliographies and annotations—I felt like myself.”

Amelia chuckled. “You sound like Katherine.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m as obsessed with the Dewey decimal system as she is, but I get the appeal.”

“Do you have to redo it? The research?”

I nodded. “Tomorrow. But at least I’ll get to be in the library again. I know what I’m doing there. But I’ve got to get over my fear that I’m going to look stupid and ask questions to make sure I don’t screw up again.”

“Trust me, I get that fear. I can’t even order a pizza over the phone.”

A little laugh escaped me. “Thank God for the internet.”

“Oh, I know. And grocery delivery.”

“And Amazon.”

“Exactly,” she said on a giggle. “Maybe Val’s right. Maybe you should try the lipstick.”

My nose wrinkled. “I don’t think that will help me, Amelia. I already feel out of place. I mean, I spent twenty minutes staring at my closet trying to figure out what to wear and then felt self-conscious about it all day. I haven’t paid attention to what other people wear or how it relates to me since high school.”

“Well, eighty-five percent of people in college wear pajamas to lectures. It’s not exactly a place you go to impress your peers or be social.”

“It’s not a place we go to be social. Plenty of other people do. I just…” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “I feel like I missed the life lecture where they teach you how to dress yourself and put on makeup and use a curling iron.”

She made a face. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you’re not hung up on appearances, Rin.”

“Maybe not in theory, but now I have to try to find a way to succeed in a professional environment with a closet full of holey sweaters, leggings, and jeans that are too short.”

“Well, maybe it’s time we went shopping. Get you some jeans that fit.”

I gave her a look. “Do you know of a store that has jeans with a thirty-seven-inch inseam?”

She frowned.

“Yeah, me either. The thought of shopping gives me hives. I don’t know what to wear, what I like or what I don’t like, so I wear the same thing over and over again. Half of my sweaters are from the men’s department because at least I know those are long enough. My legs are too long for dresses. The ‘tall’ inseam in a regular store is what I wore in eighth grade. It’s hard enough to find something I think will look decent on me without factoring in my height.”

“There has to be some way to make this easier,” she said, pushing herself up to sit and reaching for her laptop.

I rolled toward her, watching her screen as she pulled up Pinterest and typed tall girl style into the search bar.

“Look!” she cheered. “Tall girl tips. Twenty-one denim brands recommended by tall girls. There’s a ton here—we just have to research. Your favorite.”

Hope lit in my ribs, but I didn’t stoke it, knowing better than to let myself get too excited.

“And then you can’t avoid trying the lipstick. Val’s right. It’ll make you feel like the boss bitch the sticker on the bottom of your lipstick promises. Think of it as the cherry on the cupcake.”

I frowned, my aversion to the idea twisting in my chest. “I don’t know, Amelia.”

She fixed me with her gaze. “Tell me you’ll at least try. Can we go shopping? If I can find a way to make it foolproof, will you at least think about the lipstick?”

I did for a moment. That little tube was a silent presence in my backpack, the promise that I could be more than I was. That I could be brave and bold.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

And she smiled, assuaged. “Good. Oh, look, tall girl fashion tips. Wear beautiful shoes.”

I laughed. “I guess that’s number one on the list. What else?”

An hour later, we had a full pinboard and a stitch in our sides from laughing, and I thought maybe, just maybe, there might be hope for me after all.