“
Tater Tot is not a nickname," I snapped. "It's an insult, and you're welcome to have it."
"No." She shook her head, sending her straight hair over her shoulders in a glinting wave. "I'd need something else. Something to signify our deep connection."
I held in my gag admirably, but I found myself speaking without forethought. "How about 'Mirror'? Since you both love gazing into them."
As soon as I said it, I knew it was unkind. Sam's pretty face flushed bright pink, and she launched herself from the foot of my bed.
"Sam, I didn't mean---"
"No," she cut in sharply. "You said what you said. You know, Saint is right; you can't help but pick people apart."
"Excuse me while I choke on the irony," I shot back.
"Always with a joke," Sam said, even though I hadn't been joking. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Your problem is that you don't know how to play the game."
"The game? Life isn't a game."
"Bullshit. It always has been and always will be. Smile whether you want to or not; compliment the people in position to help you or have your back." She counted her points off on her fingers. "When everyone assumes you're the sweetest, most helpful or honest person in their world, they'll let you get away with anything."
"This is what you think I should be?" I cut in. "A fake schemer?"
Sam shrugged then. "Fake or not, it's how the most successful people get ahead. They plot, forge alliances, and they execute their plans."
"If that's success, then I want no part of it. I'd rather fail and have a conscience.
”
”