"We... do, your highness?" Emma groggily blinked at me, the haze of sleep slowly fading from her eyes.
"Yes. You and I, we're friends. We're part of a sisterhood, right? But lately, you're mad about something, probably something I did or said with my track record, and we need to talk it out."
Our energies are on opposite ends of the spectrum, with Emma's sluggishness sharply contrasting my bright-eyed and bushy-tailed energy. Somehow, even after spending the entire night burning through the adrenaline rush generated from hugging my dad, I'm feeling peppy enough to power through my high school cheer routine or run a mile.
Emma squints at me as my words register in her head. "What's a track record?"
"Erm... it's a recorded list of my past performance. But that's beside the point. Emma, what did I do? Tell me how we fix us."
