If We Were Us

by K. L. Walther

  I tried to backtrack, stuff sort of spilling out. “I’m sorry. It’s just Nick, my twin. Well, those tests weren’t his thing. He’s committed to Yale for hockey, and we were all worried he would have to do a PG year somewhere so he could get his score up. Luckily he beat the ACT back in May.”

  And, I kicked myself, I’m sure he’d be amped to know you told someone that. It’s only been his biggest source of stress for the past year!

  Luke nodded.

  “Do you have any idea where you’re going to apply now?” I asked, wondering if Pandora’s had switched light bulb brands or something. I could feel the rays searing my skin.

  Luke stirred his iced tea. “Not yet. I have a meeting at the college counseling office tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Oh, good idea—­” I stopped speaking when my phone vibrated on the tabletop.

  Sage laughed. “All right, tell us who’s first in line.”

  “First in line?” Luke sounded amusedly concerned.

  Sage shot me a sweet smile before turning to Luke. “First in line this term. Charlie dates girls and then boots them after only a few weeks.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure, call me King Henry…”

  “The Eighth,” Luke quickly supplied as Sage said, “You do! Catherine Howe is still in mourning from your whirlwind two weeks together!”

  “Listen,” I told Luke. “She likes to embellish.”

  Sage shook her head. “Who is it?”

  I sighed. “Dove McKenzie.”

  “Who’s that?” Luke asked.

  “A junior.” Sage refocused on me. “She’s Rapunzel in Into the Woods, right?”

  “Oui,” I said.

  “Ah,” Luke said over Sage’s snort. “Mixing business with pleasure…a bold choice.”

  When he cocked his head, it took me a second to get with the program. Sage burst into laughter, but I just reached for my Coke. “Touché, Morrissey,” I heard myself say. “Touché.”

  * * *

  I was right; he was pigeon-­toed.

  Not in a super noticeable way, but just slightly—­and it was kind of adorable. His feet were all I could look at as we crossed back onto campus. I did my best to ignore the flicker I felt every time he took a step.

  It wasn’t working.

  Luke cleared his throat. “So, what’s Mr. Magnusson like?”

  My head snapped up, right as Sage bumped into me, per usual. One of life’s greatest challenges for her was walking in a straight line. She was a zigzagger all the way. “Mr. Magnusson?” I turned to look at him.

  He nodded, and we made eye contact. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses anymore, and I made a mental note to never tell Nina I agreed with her—­his eyes were pretty incredible. A deep brown, like the juniper berries on the Vineyard.

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “Mr. Magnusson. What’s he like? All the registrar said was that I was in for an experience.”

  Sage and I laughed. “Mr. Magnusson is a Bexley School treasure,” I quoted Dad. “He’s been here forever, but nobody knows how old he is…”

  “Our best guess is seventy-­seven,” Sage said.

  “Right,” I agreed, because Gus Magnusson had to be pushing eighty. He’d been Kitsey’s English teacher her freshman year, and Dad’s back in the day. “Ah, Charles Carmichael,” he said when I walked into his classroom early this morning. “I knew your journey would eventually lead you here.” He’d given me this serious look. “If the pattern holds, you are the smartest Carmichael yet.”

  Luke’s eyes were wide when Sage and I finished speaking. “He seriously grades papers drunk?”

  I shrugged. “It’s really only a rumor, but yeah, I think so. My sister keeps in touch with him, and he sent her a crate of all his favorite alcohol when she graduated college.”

  “Hard liquor?” he asked.

  “Hard liquor,” I confirmed. “Whiskey, gin, tequila, and a lot of vodka.”

  “Wow, too bad he isn’t my housemaster,” Luke said as someone called Sage’s name, causing her to smile and zigzag away from us. “That would make it perfect.”

  I raised an eyebrow. What would make what perfect?

  “This is my stop.” He nodded his chin at the dorm. “Gatsby’s house.”

  A tremor went through me. Did Sage tell him? Or did he seriously just think of that? Brooks was easily the largest dorm on campus and didn’t look a thing like any of the other buildings. Bexley was mostly Greco-­Roman brick, but Brooks was sandy-­colored stone, with three floors, two serious turrets on each end, multiple chimneys, and a sprawling terrace out front. It was a total monstrosity, one I had called Gatsby’s Mansion since reading the book as a freshman.

  Luke hid his hands in his pockets. “I should probably go. I have practice in a half hour.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, me too. Rehearsal in”—­I checked my phone—­“ten minutes.”

  He laughed, and I felt one corner of my mouth tug up. When he laughed, it was like his whole body was laughing. “Well, I guess I’ll see you—­”

  “At dinner?” I asked.

  Luke gave me a questioning look. “Aren’t you having dinner with Sparrow?”

  My stomach dropped. Oh…right. Dove and I’d made plans for tonight.

  But I shrugged and said, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “I’m not sure Robin feels that way.”

  “Finch will recover.”

  “I hope so. Hummingbirds are so fragile.”

  “Don’t worry. Pigeon’s stronger than she looks.”

  Luke glanced down at his feet. And then without saying anything, he turned to go inside.

  “Hey, one last thing!” I called.

  He pivoted back around. “Yeah?”

  I swallowed, then said it, “You’re going to want the noise machine.”

  He barely reacted. He just gave me this look, eyebrow half-­raised. “You think?”

  “In my professional opinion, yes.”

  Luke smirked. “So I should have my mom send the noise machine?”

  I felt myself nod.

  “Okay, cool. Thanks for the tip.”

  “Anytime,” I said, quieter than I meant to. I cleared my throat and started to blindly back down the terrace steps. I was definitely going to be late. “I’ll see you later…”

  Luke leaned against the side of the house, still smirking. “Give Hawk my best.”

  I shook my head. “She’s playing Rapunzel.”

  “And that means…?”

  I shrugged—­to hide that I was shaking. “Do some research.”

  He laughed. “Am I going to be graded?”

  “For skimming one Wikipedia page?”

  “Wait, you consider Wikipedia a reliable source?”

  I fake-­gasped. “You mean it’s not the pride and joy of the academic world?”

  Luke rolled his eyes and fished his phone out of his pocket. I glanced over to see Sage talking to Cody Smith. She was using her arms to tell a story, and Cody was totally dialed in, nodding along. Larchmont, New York, I mused to myself. What would Sage think of it? Because I thought there was a good shot Cody would make it to hometowns week. He wouldn’t receive the final rose, but cracking the top four? Yes, I could definitely picture it.

  “Ah, I see,” Luke said. “Rapunzel is indeed a princess, but”—­he looked up from his phone and caught my eye—­“she is not Prince Charming’s love interest.”

  Chapter 3

  Sage

  “So what’s everyone doing tomorrow night?” Luke asked at dinner Friday evening, the first week almost over. Like most boarding schools, Bexley had Saturday-morning classes, so that night was when our “weekend” really began.

  “Scandalous things,” Charlie answered, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. Sitting next to him, I used one hand to zap h
is waist underneath the table and laughed when he jumped.

  “It depends on who you ask,” Reese said. “If you’re like Charlie over there”—­she nodded at him—­“then you take a girl to a secluded spot on campus…”

  “He gets it, Reese,” Charlie cut in curtly.

  “And if you’re Nick Carmichael,” Jennie added, unaware that Luke had yet to officially meet Nick, “you spend the entire night playing air hockey or video games in Mortimer’s common room with your friends.”

  Charlie chuckled. “So accurate.”

  I giggled too, the image easily coming together in my head. Nicholas Carmichael, hair rumpled and sporting his usual sweatpants with the ugliest Patagonia pullover known to man (some tribal pattern in a bunch of clashing colors: teal, red, brown, and a mustard yellow), lounging on the Mortimer common room’s giant sectional couch, an Xbox controller in hand. Nick liked to hunker down and relax on the weekends with his best friends, giving no shits about the Bexley social scene and disappointing his own fans. If a girl didn’t have a crush on Charlie, chances were she liked his twin, despite his lack of public appearances on Saturday nights.

  “And what about you guys?” Luke asked, twirling noodles around his fork. He’d gone to the make-­your-­own stir-­fry station for dinner, and the result looked delicious. I’d been eyeing it for the last several minutes, debating whether or not to ask for a taste. “What do you do? I’ve heard some people talking about a dance?”

  “You want to hang out tomorrow night?!” Nina gasped as if Luke were Harry Styles, saying he would much rather spend an evening with us instead of on some yacht crawling with supermodels.

  “Well, to be honest,” Luke said, “I’ve already gotten a bunch of invites for tomorrow. The football players on my floor are practically begging me to come to their poker game…” Charlie snorted next to me. “But maybe I’ll consider gracing you with my presence if I like what I hear.” He shrugged as we giggled around him.

  “Okay, so this is what we do.” Nina clapped her hands, smile a mile wide. “We—­”

  “Shh!” I interrupted. “Don’t tell him a single thing, Nina Davies!”

  Nina shot me a confused expression, but kept her mouth shut.

  Reese caught my drift, saying to Luke: “As thrilling as that poker game sounds, I’m assuming you will be hanging out with us tomorrow, right?”

  He sighed. “Yeah. I don’t want to rob them completely this early in the year. So, yes, if you don’t mind, I’ll join you.”

  Reese and I exchanged evil grins. “Awesome,” she said. “But you have to promise that you’ll participate in any and all activities we do. Okay?”

  “Reese…” Charlie warned, but she waved him off.

  “Okay, Luke?” she repeated, her face the portrait of innocence.

  “We’re not pulling a bank job, are we?” he asked.

  “No, that’s not on the agenda as of now.”

  He nodded. “Then, sure, I’m in.”

  Charlie groaned as I picked up where Reese left off. “Meet us in your common room at 8:30 tomorrow night. Sharp. We have a tight schedule.”

  “Do I get any clues?”

  The girls and I shook our heads.

  “Carmichael?” he asked, turning toward Charlie.

  “Just go with it, Morrissey,” Charlie advised. “It’s best to just go with it.”

  * * *

  As promised, Luke was waiting for us in Brooks House’s gigantic common room the next evening. The hangout spot was pretty much empty, most guys having taken off for whatever was in their night’s lineup.

  Sprawled out on one of the room’s couches, Luke had a phone pressed to his ear. “No, Bec, it’s nothing like TV,” I heard him say in a hushed voice. “There’s actually legit schoolwork and rules here.”

  “Luke…” Nina singsonged, and when he turned to look at us, his eyes grew large behind his glasses.

  “Becca, I have to go,” he told his sister, the youngest Morrissey. Luke also had two older sisters. “Tell Mom I said hi,” he added before hanging up.

  “I know, we look amazing,” Reese remarked when it was clear we’d rendered him speechless.

  “Do people really go all-­out on the dance’s theme?” he asked, rising from the couch and shoving his hands in his gray sweatshirt’s center pocket.

  “No,” Nina replied. “But we do!”

  “And so are you,” Jennie said.

  Luke opened his mouth to protest, but Reese reminded him: “Any and all activities.”

  He sighed. “Okay, fine. But I guarantee I have nothing that goes with…”

  “Red Hot American Summer,” Jennie supplied, and indeed, all four of us were representing the theme quite admirably. I wore white gym shorts with blue stars sprinkled all over them, along with a red tank top, knee-­high blue socks, and my favorite white Nikes. Jennie and Nina had on similar getups, while Reese had been a little more daring with her outfit choice, sporting a red bikini top underneath a white mesh crop top, metallic blue spandex leggings, and white Converse. We were quite the crew.

  “Well,” I said to Luke, “it’s fine if you don’t have anything, because I happen to know someone who does.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Luke and I quietly slipped through Daggett’s front door. The girls had volunteered to wait outside on the porch. “Are we allowed to be doing this?” Luke whispered as I led the way up the house’s back stairs.

  “Yes and no,” I whispered back. “You are, because you’re a guy, but girls have to get permission from the faculty duty-­master to go upstairs in boys’ houses. But I guess, technically, since we’re not with anyone from Daggett, this little mission would be frowned upon.”

  We peeled off the staircase once we hit the second floor, and I took off for the end of the hallway, Luke right on my heels. I skidded to a stop in front of the door whose nameplate read:

  Charles Carmichael

  Senior Prefect

  Darien, Connecticut

  Without giving it a second thought, I turned Charlie’s doorknob and was greeted by his neat-­as-­a-­pin, clearly empty room. It was nearing 9:00 p.m., so he was probably hanging out with Dove. I hadn’t even texted to see if what we were doing was okay, but I didn’t think he would mind, so long as we left his room in one piece.

  I began to dig through his dresser and moved to grab a few things from his closet, all the while hearing Luke walk slowly around the room. Once I found the final thing on my list, I turned to see him surveying Charlie’s wall decor, his gaze moving over the black-­and-­silver Daggett House flag tacked up next to a triangular red-­white-­and-­blue flag for the Edgartown Yacht Club on Martha’s Vineyard. Finally, he turned around. “So whatchya got?”

  I smiled and held the clothes out to him. “I’ll wait outside.”

  * * *

  The girls whistled when I reemerged from Daggett with a star-­spangled Luke in tow. “God bless Charlie!” Reese declared.

  “You look fantastic,” Nina breathed.

  “Totally Red Hot American Summer.” Jennie nodded.

  “I feel like I’m in a Halloween costume,” Luke said.

  “You pull it off, trust me.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Even though Luke was skinny, Charlie’s clothes fit him well enough. I’d decked Luke out in some of his most patriotic pieces, featuring a pair of screaming loud American flag-­patterned shorts.

  “So,” Jennie prompted, “off to part one of the evening?” We stepped off Daggett’s front porch and turned right in the direction of the field house, where the dance was being held.

  “There’s more than one part?” Luke asked.

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “Definitely more than one part.”

  “How many?”

  “Three,” Reese informed him. “Three parts.”

  �
��Okay.” Luke straightened his shoulders. “Bring it.”

  * * *

  I knew as soon as we walked into the wrestling room that the five of us were the best dressed theme-­wise. While the girls I spotted did honor the appropriate color scheme, anyone would think the guys just so happened to stumble upon the dance. They were all wearing variations of the same athletic clothing, black, blue, or gray.

  So disappointing, gentlemen!

  Reese, Jennie, and Nina immediately danced off into the crowd, but Luke stayed by my side, absorbing the entire scene. I touched his arm, and when he looked at me, I shouted that we had to dance. It was a rule between the four of us; every time we went to a dance, the girls and I had to dance like there was no tomorrow.

  Luke raised an eyebrow and said something back, but the music was too loud to hear. Luckily, though, I could read his lips: We do?

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  His eyes darted around, and I took that to mean dancing wasn’t his thing. I rose up onto my tiptoes and leaned in close, so close that my lips brushed against his ear. “Can you not dance or something?” I asked.

  Luke pulled away so he could flash me an expression that said, That’s what you think?

  In response, I smirked at him, grabbed his arm, and tugged him into the mass of sweaty people with me.

  And man, Luke could dance. His body moved effortlessly to the beat, lost in the music, and before long, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him to me. I was smiling and he was smiling, and when the song called for it, I spun around and shook my hips. Only when I heard Jack Healy’s voice did I remember we were in a crush of people, that it wasn’t just the two of us.

  “Hot stuff, Sage!” Jack shouted, bopping by us. “You? Me? Turf? Ten minutes?”

  Still dancing with Luke, I shook my head and flipped him the bird. I did plan on visiting the turf field tonight, but not with Jack.

  * * *

  “Where are we going?” Luke whispered.

  “The turf field,” I whispered back, grinning into the darkness. “The primo hookup spot on campus.”

  Ahead of me, Reese snorted. “I would call the turf a lot of things before describing it as the primo spot,” she said, Jennie and Nina laughing.