The Emma Series

If Carly’s antics cost me one more thing, there’s going to be trouble. I’m a 23-year-old woman caught between joy and sorrow. Today is both the best and worst day of my life.

This is a significant milestone for me. I’ve worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get here.

I’m one of the few students graduating today with a double major from NYU. An MBA and an MS in Accounting, and my parents won’t be here to witness it.

I dress in simple black trousers, a white button-up blouse, and flat black shoes, with minimal makeup.

My long black hair falls down my back in loose curls, almost reaching my waist.

Sometimes I think about cutting it because it’s such a hassle to style, but Carly, my best friend, insists it’s my best feature.

Carly and I met in college. She’s my age and is barely graduating today. She’s a party animal and despises studying.

Her parents are loaded. I have no idea what they do, but whatever she wants, she gets.

Carly does everything with passion. Whether it’s partying or picking out the perfect outfit—she always nails it. Today is no exception.

She’s wearing a sleek, short black cocktail dress with sky-high heels. As always, she’ll be the center of attention once she sheds her graduation gown.

I might sound like a jealous friend, but I’m not. I know I have my own charm, or so I’ve been told—but Carly? She’s a showstopper.

“Carly, we need to go. We’re going to be late for our own graduation, for heaven’s sake.”

“Coming, B.”

She initially called me a snobbish bitch when we first met but decided it was too long to say every time she addressed me. Now it’s just B.

Short for bitch. Said with love, of course. Or so she claims.

We grab our handbags, caps, and gowns and rush to her black BMW M3.

“Step on it, Carly! We’re going to be late!”

Carly doesn’t need to be told twice. She always drives like a bat out of hell and I usually scold her like a worried mom, but I don’t want to miss a thing today.

We’re meeting our friends Rick, Cody, Mario, and Carly’s current fling Cashè at the ceremony. We decided a while back that it’s better to have mostly guy friends.

What can I say? Women can be catty sometimes. We’re full of drama and backstabbing if things don’t go our way. Carly has enough sass for ten women and radiates confidence.

I know it sounds hypocritical coming from little old me, but our group works like a well-oiled machine. If one of the guys starts seeing someone, we’re always polite while it lasts, but it never lasts long.

Let’s just say they’re all players and both Carly and I have had to step in more than once as a pretend “new” girlfriend to help the guys shake them off. Hit it and quit it—that’s their motto.

On the drive to the ceremony, Carly decides to touch up her makeup as usual, swerving all over the road. Luckily, I’m used to it by now.

The twenty-minute drive feels like an eternity, and she nearly kills us twice before we finally arrive at the campus.

The ceremony is about to start and we can’t find the guys, so we decide to take our seats and catch up with them later.

We plan to meet at our condo at six o’clock for drinks and snacks before hitting a club to celebrate our graduation.

I hate parties, let alone clubs.

I can count the number of times I’ve partied and gone clubbing on one hand, what with juggling a double major and part-time work.

I know deep down these are just excuses for me to stay home and study.

I’m so lost in thought that I almost miss my name being called.

“Emma Taylor, MBA and an MS in Accounting.”

I tune out the rest of the Chancellor’s speech because I hate being the center of attention.

I rush up on stage, practically snatch my degrees, and hurry off.

Carly, being Carly, makes sure all eyes are on her and flaunts her stunning beauty.

We meet at her BMW after the ceremony, squealing with excitement that we finally graduated, hop in her car, and head to the mall to shop for our dresses for tonight.

This is going to be a long day. I hate shopping even more than I hate clubbing.