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“I’ve got to go. I’ll speak to you later.” It sounded like Veronica had ended the conversation. Maybe she would leave now. I kept my back to the pantry door and stared down at the two mugs on the counter in front of me.

“You know, it’s pretty rude to eavesdrop on private conversations, Isobel.”

I tensed at the sound of Veronica’s voice and slowly turned to face her. She was standing in the pantry doorway, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. She looked like hell. Her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent, and her nose was red. Like almost everyone else, she must have caught the cold that was sweeping the school.

“I’m just making some drinks,” I said. “I didn’t mean to overhear.”

Veronica looked ready to argue with me, but she sighed and stepped into the panty, leaning against the countertop just inside the doorway. She must have been feeling too tired to give me her usual verbal lashing.

“But you did overhear?” she asked. “How much?”

“Everything you said since you entered the kitchen.” There was no point in lying.

“Great.” She sighed. “You’re the last person I’d want overhearing that conversation.”

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No, I suppose not.”

We fell silent, and the only sound in the room was the light tapping of Veronica’s foot on the floor. She seemed anxious and was gently chewing on her bottom lip.

“Is everything okay?” I asked her

She glanced at me and looked me up and down as though she was trying to decide whether I could be trusted with the answer. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Okay,” I said, turning back to the counter to pick up my friends’ drinks. Before I could turn and leave, Veronica spoke again.

“It’s just my mom,” she started. “I can never do anything right in her eyes.”

“Oh, that must be hard.” I didn’t know what else to say. Veronica was probably right. I rarely understood the dramas and dilemmas people faced in this wealthy and privileged world. But Veronica seemed like she wanted to vent all the same.

“I’m just tired of pretending to be who she wants me to be all the time. To do what she wants me to. Bewithwho she wants me to.”

“Are you talking about Noah?”

“Uh, no.” She responded a little too quickly. Given the conversation I’d heard her having with her mother, I couldn’t imagine who else she would have been talking about. Before I could say anything else, her eyes landed on the two mugs I was holding, and a crease crinkled her brow.

“What is that?” she asked. “It smells good.”

“Uh, it’s honey and lemon tea. For Anna and Cress. They aren’t feeling well.”

Veronica lifted her chin slightly and closed her eyes like she was breathing in the citrusy aroma that was starting to fill the pantry.

“Do you want one?” I asked. “You look like you could use it.”

I was surprised when she started to nod.

“If you don’t mind.”

I turned back to the counter and fetched another mug from the shelf.

“I’ve been sick for a couple of days now,” Veronica said. “None of my friends have even offered to get me some tissues.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She seemed confused, or hurt, by the idea her friends hadn’t offered to help her. I would have thought I was the last person in the world Veronica would want to accept help from, but then again, she’d just confided in me about her issues with her mother. Maybe there wasn’t anyone else she could talk to about it. Just like there wasn’t anyone to make her honey and lemon tea.

“Maybe they just don’t think you need it,” I said. “You always come across as such a strong person. Not the kind of person that needs looking after.”

“Yes, well, things aren’t always what they seem,” she said.