by M. F. Lorson
“Why?” I asked, watching from my bed as she clicked through Ashley’s Knight Watch profile.
Rachel shrugged, “She’s new. She seems fun.”
“Lots of people seem fun,” I grumbled.
“Soooooooo, “said Rachel, drawing out the o’s for emphasis, “Should we fold her in or leave her to the riff-raff?” She rubbed her hands together in diabolical fashion.
“You are terrible!”
“So true,” said Rachel, dropping the evil act. “But real time. Do you like her or not?”
“I like her well enough,” I answered honestly. I wasn’t looking for new friends. The social with Carter already felt like a chore. But then again, making friends with Ashley might not be such a bad idea. If we were friends, I would end up spending more time with Christopher. Maybe more time was what I needed to win him back. The more I thought about it, the sillier it seemed that I’d expected him to take one look at me and forget how shallow I was for breaking up with him.
“Me too,” said Rachel, calling my attention back to the conversation at hand. “I’m going to invite her to dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Why not?” she asked, pushing herself up from her desk. “Wait too long, and she’ll get another invitation.”
Rachel was right. We didn’t get a lot of mid-year transfers. Someone would scoop her up if we didn’t, and for her sake, it was better us than them. Rachel bound down the hall to Ashley’s room. As a late transfer, she scored a single room. Sometimes I envied the girls in single rooms. They got to mope in private. But they also didn’t get to have a Rachel.
People say you never know when your golden years are until they’ve passed you by. That wasn’t true for me. This place, these moments after class and before lights out with my best friend in the world, these were my golden days. All that was missing was the romance. It had never seemed so dire before. Now I was itching to be that girl with her boyfriend's arm perpetually slung around her shoulder.
Rachel returned to our room with Ashley at her side.
“We’re a dining party of three tonight,” she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face.
“Four,” corrected Ashley. “Unless you object to my brother joining us.” She looked directly at me, waiting for a response.
“Of course not,” I hurried to answer. “Christopher, I mean, your brother is welcome.”
Rachel shook her head. “So, welcome,” she mocked.
If Christopher was going to be a permanent fixture at Shelfbrooke, I was going to have to learn to say his name without feeling the need to apologize every time. The three of us made our way down to the dining hall where Christopher sat waiting. I couldn’t quite read his expression. Was he happy to see me? Angry? Or worse, indifferent? We ate dinner in near silence until, finally, Rachel couldn’t take it anymore.
“What’s your schedule?” she asked, her eyes locked on Christopher with torpedo-like precision.
Christopher took a hard swallow. He had been making a deliberate effort to keep his eyes on his plate and his mouth too preoccupied with food to make conversation.
“I’ve got English, algebra, biology, and leadership,” he said, barely bothering to stop eating long enough to answer.
“Algebra and biology?” started Rachel, but Ashley quickly made the cut-it sign with her hand beneath her throat. Algebra and biology were not regular classes for a senior. By now, we’d all completed those basic general education requirements. I wondered why Christopher was enrolled in remedial courses, but I didn’t dare ask. Not just yet, anyway. Leadership, on the other hand, felt like a safe way to jump into the conversation. Boy, was I wrong.
“The leadership class here is great,” I started. “Professor Croft is super woo woo; he pretty much lets the students design the curriculum. So long as it promotes school pride, building one another up, etc. Pretty much anything goes.”
Christopher nodded, careful not to look me in the eye while acknowledging I’d spoken.
“I’m in that class too,” I continued. “I could show you where it’s at if you like.” I knew darn well he didn’t need any help finding his way around campus, not after yesterday’s tour, but I was desperate for him to talk to me, and asking a question was the only way I could think of to get a real response.
Christopher set his fork down and cocked his head in my direction. Gone was the warm expression I knew from before and in its place a set jaw with hardened eyes.
“You’re in leadership?” he asked, his tone sharper than I expected.
“Yes,” I answered, struggling to sound unaffected by the hostility behind his words.
“If you don’t mind my saying, I think that’s a little odd.” This conversation was on a steady path downhill, and I had no idea how to turn it around.
“What is odd about that?” asked Rachel looking from me to Ashley, like the two of us were in on a joke, and we’d forgotten to bring her up to speed.
Christopher acted as if Rachel had never spoken, locking in on me instead. “Oh, I just think it is odd that Anne is taking a class aimed at motivating others when she’s so easily persuaded what to think.”
“Christopher!” barked Ashley, “Can you not do the thing where you ruin my chances of making any friends?”
Christopher mumbled an apology under his breath before shoving a massive bite of creamed corn into his mouth. Maybe he thought sealing his mouth shut was the only way to keep from saying what he felt. If that was the case, I hoped his plate never emptied.
“It’s okay, Ashley,” I said, attempting to diffuse the situation. “He has the right to be angry.”
Christopher snorted. “I’m not angry. If anything, you saved me.”
“Saved you?” I asked, feeling confused.
“Ugh,” groaned Ashley, looking more uncomfortable by the second. “Can we save the melodrama for another day? Neither of you is going to like where this conversation goes.”
“I kinda wanna know where it goes,” whispered Rachel. She never could stay out of a good bit of gossip.
“It only fits that you do,” said Christopher, finally taking note of her. “You’re the roommate, right?”
“I…”
“So actually, I have you to thank,” said Christopher cutting her off mid-sentence. “Without your excellent guidance, Anne might not have broken things off between us. And then where would I be?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Back then, I was wooed by a pretty face. Personality hardly mattered to me.” Ouch, a little anger I was prepared for, outright loathing I didn’t quite know how to react to. “I’ve got standards now,” he continued.
“Standards?” growled Rachel. I could practically see the little hairs on her neck stand at attention as she prepared to come to my defense.
“Yeah,” responded Christopher. “Like now, I know that the only girls worthy of my time are the ones who know themselves.” He pointed at the two of us with the blunt end of his fork. “You two saved me from dating any number of shallow girls who are willing to do whatever the girl next to them suggests.”
I wanted to say something in my defense, anything really. But the problem was—everything he said was true, and I deserved to hear it, even if the way he said it was exceptionally cruel.
Rachel laughed shrilly. “So you don’t care what people think then? Peer pressure got nothin on you?”
Christopher took a swig of his water before answering. “No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. I do what feels right. Not what’s best for my social status.”
Rachel cocked an eyebrow. “It’s funny you should say that, seeing as how you were Johnny-on-the-spot to create your Knight Watch account, and awfully quick to make sure everyone knew you weren’t putting up with Will’s slander.”
Christopher turned red with anger. There’s a reason Rachel was always chosen as the principal arguer on the debate team, and right now, I was thrilled to see her put her skills to use in my defense.
“There's a difference between defending yours
elf and doing whatever the rest of the sheep tell you to.”
“So we’re sheep now?” asked Rachel incredulously. I could tell she was winding up to lay it on him thick, and in truth, she would probably make some pretty salient points, but I was tired of the whole conversation, and my appetite had long since abandoned me. Besides, if Ashley curled up on herself any further, she was likely to turn into a pill bug and roll away from the table. For her sake and mine, I decided the meal was over.
“It’s cool, Rachel. It’s not worth the argument. I’m not as hungry as I thought,” I said, pushing my plate away. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m going to head back to the dorms.” I didn’t bother to look at Christopher as I made my exit. Either he was looking at me with that cold hard stare of his or he wasn’t looking at me at all. Either way, I had had enough for one night.
I was halfway up the stairs to our room when Ashley caught up with me.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
The last thing I felt like doing was recapping the night's conversation, but I didn’t want to be rude.
“Sure,” I answered, trying to muster some enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry about my brother.”
“Don’t be,” I answered honestly. “It’s not your fault. He’s right about me. About how I acted.”
Ashley gave me a small smile. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean he has to be a jerk about it.”
“Thanks. But if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be alone for a while.”
“Definitely,” said Ashley with a look of understanding. “But you know where my room is if you need to vent. Complaining about my brother is a favorite past-time.”
I smiled as I left her at the door to her room and finished the walk to mine. I remembered all the times Christopher complained about his younger sister. I never imagined she’d be the girl I talked to when he broke my heart.
Chapter Five
People told the best stories at the back-to-school social. Breakups and make-ups, sisters coming home from college engaged, parents getting divorced, who was getting to travel where after graduation. I used to look forward to this sort of thing. But now I didn’t want to see anyone. The idea of bumping into Christopher kept me holed up in my room, a blanket barricade keeping me safe from the outside world. How quickly I had gone from being excited to see him to feeling like my heart might explode with deep burning shame every time he crossed my path.
“You need to get out of this funk,” said Rachel holding a pair of hoop earrings up to one ear and a stud to the other.
“Impossible,” I moaned, clutching my barricade closer.
Rachel fastened the mismatched earrings. I used to think it was odd that her earrings never matched but now I found the quirk sort of endearing. She leaned forward on the vanity so that her eyes met mine in the mirror.
“Look, a bad thing happened. A heartbreak-category kind of thing but you can’t let Christopher Wentworth ruin your senior year at Shelfbrooke. We are two-point-five solid years into greatness. We have to go out big, not pouting.” I knew she was right, but that didn’t stop the aching in my chest from making me feel physically incapable of getting off the bed.
Rachel shook her head with disappointment, “Extreme measures,” she mumbled, reaching into her closet to pull a black shirt off the hanger.
“Put it on,” she ordered, tossing the shirt in my direction.
I snagged the garment mid-air and held it up in front of me. I had been coveting this very shirt since Rachel wore it off campus last fall. I loved the feel of the smooth black fabric in my hands, and knowing it cost more than half my wardrobe combined added to the appeal.
“Seriously?” I asked, half afraid she would take it back.
“Seriously,” she answered, turning to adjust her fiery red top. Rachel must have been feeling pretty bad about her hand in my love life’s demise because she only ever let me borrow her clothes when she felt guilty. For example, if she barked at me in the morning or forgot to help me with an assignment until it was too late.
I yanked my T-shirt up over my head and replaced it with Rachel’s. The new one hugged my curves in all the right places. I felt sad, but I didn’t have to look sad.
“You know,” I said, seeing the opportunity before me, “a great top is wasted without the right pants.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, but within seconds, she was shifting things around in her bottom drawer, returning to me with the perfect pair of dark blue skinny jeans.
“You might want to consider channeling all of that manipulative energy into fixing things with Christopher,” she said, passing the jeans to my outstretched hands.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, this is more fun. Besides you got me into this mess.”
Rachel threw her hands up in the air. “How many more times do I have to apologize for suggesting you break up with a boy who, and I quote ‘you were kinda, maybe, sort of dating?’”
I tapped my chin with my pointer finger pretending to mull it over. “I’m estimating around five.”
“Deal,” said Rachel, clasping my hand in hers. “And I have already completed three, both the pants and the shirt count as an apology.”
I did not argue. After all, one glance in our shared mirror reminded me that I was looking like a million bucks, and it was all thanks to Rachel. The two of us stopped by Ashley’s room on the way out.
“Come in,” she shouted from inside her closed door. She was the only one in our hall who kept her door closed. It was about as effective as painting transfer student on your welcome rug, but Ashley didn’t seem to mind being different. Stepping inside, I couldn’t help but notice how oddly huge the room seemed without someone to share it. Ashley was on the phone, so Rachel and I had nothing to do but wander around the place. Her walls were covered in photos from home and band posters, some that I recognized, like Merchants, and others I had never heard of. For the first time, I started to wonder if being at Shelfbrooke meant I was missing out on things regular teens were into.
Behind Ashley’s computer was a large bulletin board. She’d tacked inspirational quotes onto it, but there were also dozens of tiny cartoon drawings done in the style of Japanese manga. Some of them were clearly her, but others were familiar in a different way. I honed in on a drawing of a girl with messy hair and a graphic T-shirt making a silly face. I recognized the character from something, probably one of those anime TV shows Mary was so into.
I wanted to look closer, but it felt like an invasion of her privacy, especially since she had never invited me into her room before.
There was a whole lot of, ‘No, I miss you more,’ going on in that phone conversation. Rachel and I exchanged smirks. We still didn’t know much about Ashley, but clearly, she was a bit of a softy.
“Sorry about that,” said Ashley with a modest blush. “I am adamantly opposed to Facetime and Skype, so phone it is.”
“Phone with whom?” asked Rachel in a teasing voice.
“I don’t know if I should tell you,” said Ashley playfully. “Historically, you give bad advice when it comes to this sort of thing.”
Rachel feigned offense. “Who, me? One time. One time I gave bad advice. No one gives me any credit for the years of good advice I have given since!”
“We can torture Rachel later,” I said, grabbing a seat at her desk. “I want to hear about this boyfriend now.”
Ashley batted her eyelashes dramatically. “If you insist.” Rachel and I waited patiently as Ashley scrolled through her Instagram for the perfect picture.
“This,” she said, handing the phone to the two of us, “is Andrew. He goes to our old school. He’s a junior like me, and I have basically been in love with him since October 17th of last year.”
“That is very specific,” I said with a grin.
“That’s because it marks a monumental moment in our relationship.”
“Do tell,” said Rachel as she entered Ashley’s Instagram handle into her phone.
“And you’re going to stick it out?” asked Rachel. “Do the whole long distance thing for the next two years?”
Ashley took her phone back and studied the pic of her and Andrew. “He’s the real deal. If being here meant giving up Andrew, then I guess I wouldn’t want to be here.”
“Why are you here?” asked Rachel, “I get Christopher being here for lacrosse and all, but if you’re as into Andrew as you say you are then why leave at all?”
“It wasn’t my first choice,” said Ashley. “But I couldn’t let Christopher go alone.” I smiled to myself. From the sound of things, Ashley hadn’t outgrown her desire to play the mommy role.
“Your brother is a big boy,” joked Rachel.
“Yeah well, that big boy has a penchant for getting himself into trouble at school. I’ll consider Shelfbrooke a success if my dear brother keeps it together long enough to graduate.”
“He’s really that bad?” I asked. The more I learned about Christopher, the more I realized I hardly knew him.
“Let’s just say what he excels in on the field does not reflect his performance in the classroom.”
“Ah,” said Rachel. I could see the wheels in her head turning. This was why Christopher was taking algebra and biology. I wanted to stick around Ashley’s room and ask her more questions about Christopher, but it was getting close to six, and I didn’t want Carter to think we’d abandoned her.
By the time the three of us arrived at the library, the party was in full swing—as full as a heavily chaperoned ice cream social in the library could hope to be anyway. Carter was sitting in a large olive green chair near the Dewey decimal classification for insects. I could think of nowhere nerdier for her to be. With a heavy sigh, I made my way in her direction. Someone had forgotten to tell her that uniforms weren’t mandatory until tomorrow. She looked terribly awkward in her black pleated skirt, while everyone else was milling about in jeans.
