How I Fly

by Anne Eliot

  That afternoon—and I mean within a three-hour window—Laura’s aunt drove straight up from Brights Grove to pick her up. She had to be sent home immediately for assaulting another student—and they were going to send her all the way home.

  Her real parents had been called. Back in Ireland. According to Laura, she would be back home-home by the time we all got back to Brights Grove in a week, and it seemed there was nothing we could do about it.

  Patrick hasn’t uttered one word since she kissed him on the lips in front of all of us then drove away sobbing.

  Not one word.

  But he doesn’t have to talk about it. We get that it’s impossible to speak when your heart has been completely removed. I can’t even joke with Patrick about how he finally got his second kiss from Laura, and I can’t even speculate what that kiss meant, because it went on so long that it was actually inappropriate, considering the whole world was watching them.

  It was the kind of kiss full of promises, but when it was over the air weighed heavy only with regrets and extreme sadness.

  So…yeah. No need to talk about that.

  If Laura London’s going back to Ireland then all of our worlds are going to go dark—like how I’d imagine the sky would look after a nuclear explosion, or how it would be if that underground Yellowstone volcano blew ash into the entire atmosphere. Thanks to the awesome shows on The History Channel and The Discovery Channel, we all know very well that aftermath skies are going to kill off everything, as well as bring on the next ice age.

  After Laura left, Ellen and Patrick and I were placed on instant probation—as was Harrison. At first I couldn’t believe Patrick had to be involved, but Harrison had filed an additional complaint that Patrick and I had bullied him non-stop since my arrival!

  When we denied that accusation, the administration said it was a precautionary probation until we could have a formal hearing that would happen tomorrow. This meant we couldn’t leave our dorm, we can’t go to class tomorrow, and we’re only allowed to accompany Ellen while she does her physical therapy at the pool.

  It’s absolutely unfair crap, but we were all so depressed from Laura’s hasty exit that we didn’t even fight it. Ellen already ordered me to say nothing so many times she’s almost hoarse from it. She thinks she can handle this on her own. And so far I haven’t said a word to keep her happy—but that’s mostly because I’ve been doing what I do best. I’m holding silent and observing everyone and everything. I’m not staying out of it at all.

  I’m formulating a plan and setting some goals to bring down Harrison Shaw.

  Apparently, this school runs off the honor code. Normally, Ellen and Harrison would face a peer committee for the official accusations they’ve placed on each other—but because this is summer session and we are all minors, and not real university students, none of that applies.

  Instead of police, all of our parents were called, and should Harrison be found guilty there’s not much but a slap on the hand that’s going to happen to the guy.

  Harrison was moved to live in the “emergency single” that was connected to the resident advisor’s quarters. From what I’ve heard from Chloe and Charisse, who’ve been really cool about running information for me, Harrison has what looks like some sort of luxury apartment. They usually place visiting professors in there, but since it was vacant, Harrison got to have it. Chloe also told me that Harrison did try to kiss all of them the night of the bonfire—but that each and every one of the French girls had refused. So the kid had been lying even about that.

  Even Charisse, a girl whom I now love because she told Harrison off with: “Mon pauvre, petit Harrison. I’m from Paris. We have what is called, you know—good taste.”

  To add insult to all of this insanity, no one even considered moving Ellen to a fancy guarded apartment for her safety. Even though to me and Patrick it was obvious Harrison, the devious little insect, had been trying to hurt Ellen all along and not the other way around. To make matters worse, when the administration, along with two security guards, arrived to escort one-hundred-pound Laura to her aunt’s waiting car, they accused Ellen of vandalizing her dorm room door.

  Apparently Patrick had removed some handicapped sign from it on the first day, but he was so frazzled about Laura leaving that he couldn’t find it. So when Ellen, Patrick, and I returned to our hallway, some jerk had screwed a huge plastic neon handicapped sign onto her door. It also had a note attached to it that threatened expulsion should it dare be touched or removed again. Patrick, at that point, just deflated in front of us.

  He shook his head and muttered how he needed to be alone, and that he was sorry…and that he’d see us later. I know Ellen, like all of us, had been keeping her emotions in check, but as she stared at that damn hideous sign, I watched every emotion I hate to see crossing her face—guilt, then self-hatred, desolation, and her utter sadness at what happened to her best friend because we were all defending her, once again. But how she clammed up like she was locking herself away in a box and didn’t cry one tear as she stared at that stupid sign on her door killed me way more than any of her tears could have.

  I took her key and opened her door, and because it didn’t appear she was going to move inside on her own steam, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her into the room. Without pausing to think—and because she and I were way past talking—I took her over to the bed and tucked us both into it, pulled her up next to my chest so I could rest my chin against her silky hair, wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I could and covered us, up and we stayed like that without moving until we fell both asleep.

  We did have one small conversation before drifting off, though. I whispered, “I love you, Ellen Foster.”

  She whispered back, “I love you back, Cam. So much.”

  Ellen

  When I wake up, he’s gone. I’d think I dreamed the whole thing, but he’s left a little note next to me that says, I love you. Don’t worry.

  As I look around Laura’s vacated side of the room and count the sparkling flecks of glitter all over the floor, I wonder how I can feel so full and so empty at the same time.

  Cam loves me, and I love him, and even though we didn’t kiss or say anything formal, I know Cam and I are back where we’re supposed to be—where we left off.

  Except everything’s changed. Laura’s gone.

  Still half asleep, I wonder how she’s doing, where Cam could be, and then I wonder…

  “Patrick!”

  I throw the covers off my bed and struggle to reach my crutches. My leg is so stiff from yesterday that the cane is not going to provide enough support. Once I’m balanced, I get to the desk and grab my phone and dial Patrick’s number.

  He answers right away. “Hi. Are you looking for me?”

  “Where are you? Are you okay? Where did you go last night?”

  “I walked home. To Brights Grove.”

  “What?”

  “After I left you guys, I just started walking. Made it about three hours in the direction of Brights Grove before I called my mom. I had some dumb MapApp whatever-thing that led me in circles.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” He breathes out. “My room and this town look really small after my summer in the big city. I wonder if you’ll think the same thing? The doughnut shop shut down. Are you okay?”

  I refuse to process the information about the doughnut shop, nor will I accept that he’s not here. “Patrick. You have to get your mom to drive you back. If you leave right now you’ll only miss half of class. Get up. Get moving.”

  “Impossible. Not with Laura holding a plane ticket that puts her in Dublin in forty-eight hours.”

  “So it’s really true?” I whisper.

  “Yeah. And I’m staying here with her. Will you and Cam pack my stuff up for me and haul it back at the end of the week? Mom’s agreed to try to find me some sort of exchange student program for me. Laura’s aunt is coming to pick me up soon because she’s being really cool. She’s letting
Laura and I can spend every last minute together.”

  “What? Are you serious? I mean, seriously serious that you aren’t coming back here? What about your final grade?”

  He chuckles. “Ellen. Do you have to ask me that? Really? I only came for the fun, not be eventually get a job at National Geographic or CNN like you guys want someday.”

  I sigh. “Laura…when she kissed you…that must have been a very good kiss.”

  “You know it.”

  “I’m happy for you—and sad for you. And if her parents won’t let her stay here in Canada, then you have to go. It’s so romantic. Besides, there’s no girl on this whole planet better for you. None.”

  “The only problem is my usual problem. Money. But I’m going to figure out a way. Even if I wind up in a program in London, it’s still closer than all the way across the ocean.”

  *Imagines the deep blue sea. Thinks about how it’s bigger and wider than our Lake Huron.*

  My heart twists. I’m trying not to be selfish, but now, instead of losing one best friend it seems I’m about to lose two. This will be the very first time Patrick and I have ever been apart.

  “You’re lucky I love her as much as I love you,” I answer.

  “I know.”

  “And…whatever happens…and no matter how long it takes, let’s be clear—”

  “Clear on what?”

  “Tell your future girlfriend that I get to be her maid of honor and your best woman if there’s going to be any sort of wedding, or else I will wreck the party.”

  He laughs. “I’m glad one of us believes in me. How about you let me get over there and deal with culture shock and meeting Laura’s parents first?”

  “And deal with Laura. Don’t forget about her.”

  “As if I can forget about her.” We both laugh. “Anyhow,” he says, “I’m sure I’ll still be here when you get back, because it’s going to take a few weeks to get myself organized.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll be home for Christmas. And there’s Skype, so…don’t think that you’re all alone.”

  “You have this all planned out, don’t you.”

  *Pouts: I am going to be all alone!*

  “I just don’t want you worrying about me from afar all the time. As long as you text me quality Snapchats and kitten memes all the time to annoy me, it will be almost the same.”

  “I wouldn’t have left you last night if I couldn’t be sure that you’d be okay. Because you have Cam. And…” Static crackles over our line. “And he really loves you, so you need to know that and you need to just go ahead and—”

  I smile. “I do…and I did and…Cam and I, we—”

  “Don’t give me any disgusting details. Saying Cam and I is enough. I get it. I thought we discussed this.”

  I laugh. “Oh, but you and Laura can make out in front of the whole planet, including me, like you did yesterday? I’m only saying that he and I are back together.”

  “Finally. And point heard. But kissing isn’t the same as me being forced to hear your annoying, girly replays of your boring love details. Kissing in public, is hot.”

  I laugh again, blushing as I remember the sweetness that was Cam holding me last night and not kissing me once.

  *Replays: I love you, Ellen Foster. I love you. I love you.*

  A text buzzes against my hand, just as my phone is getting a second call. The text is from Cam; the call is marked unknown number. I say, “Hang on, Patrick, would you? It’s a text from Cam.”

  “Read it out loud?”

  I decide to let the unknown number go to voice mail and oblige Patrick by reading the text from Cam: “Hey. Didn’t want to wake you—I’m off working on a plan to prove Harrison wrong, and I just got to be on a conference call where I had to speak on your behalf for the entire committee. Remember, we aren’t supposed to go to class today. You and Harrison will meet with Professor Perry and his firing squad on the lunch break. In the digital photography room. Did I get to you before they called you? Because they said they were going to call you?”

  Patrick shouts over the line, “Don’t take that call. They’ve bossed us all around enough!”

  I continue reading for Patrick’s benefit: “I’ve been told to encourage you to TAKE the call. They are just going to tell you what they told me—times—and how we’re all still guilty until proven innocent, blah blah. And where the hell is Patrick, because he needs to take this call, too.”

  “What is he, my mom?” Patrick says.

  I text Cam back: He’s at home. With Laura. I’m on the phone with him right now. He will pick up the call.

  Cam: Good. I also don’t think they need to know he’s left campus just yet.

  “What’s he saying? What did you say?” Patrick asks.

  “I’m telling him where you are, and he wants you to not let them know you’ve left campus yet and…” My phone dings. “Cam’s saying: Hang up. Hang up so I can call Patrick. I’ve got an idea, and if he’s home he can help me. We’ve only got two hours.”

  I hear Patrick’s cell phone buzzing over the line. “Damn. I guess I have to go so we can save you.”

  “Whatever. I’m going to save all of you,” I quip back, but it’s a lie. I’ve got no idea how to save them or myself beyond just showing up and hoping all of these adults can tell good from evil.

  Patrick adds, “Whatever happens, don’t let Harrison win.”

  “Not planning on it.”

  “Good. Then hang up so I can talk to your crazy boyfriend, because all this drama is keeping me from my girlfriend!”

  “Wait! What?” I smile. “Did she say she was going to be with you—did she text you—are you two—”

  “She doesn’t even know I’m here in town yet.”

  “Does that mean she has no idea you are planning to take any semester in the UK or Ireland program you can find? Have you even looked into these programs yet?”

  “Simple details. Simple, unconfirmed details that will be cleared up very soon. I’m good.”

  I shake my head. “Oh brother. You know Laura doesn’t process things like the rest of us. What if that kiss was not what you thought? What if it was like…her…goodbye kiss.”

  “Worry about yourself. Not me. I know what I’m doing.” I hear Patrick’s phone buzzing again in the background.

  As I stare at the green voice mail dot next to the unknown number, my heart starts to fill with dread about what’s going to happen. “I’m now officially worried about both of us. Can I hate today?”

  “I’m going to use your words on yourself here, sweet Ellen. It’s all going to work out fine. It is. Believe.”

  As if Cam can read our minds, he texts me again: HANG THE HELL UP, YOU WORRYING FREAKS. IF I CAN JUST TALK TO PATRICK AND PRINT SOME STUFF, ALL OF THIS IS GOING TO BE FINE. I SWEAR.

  Then: I know we aren’t invited to the tribunal, but I think I have the proof you need to expose Harrison. I’m going to meet you in the digital photography room. Bring your laptop fully charged in case the dumb equipment doesn’t work. Okay?

  Me: Yes. Of course. See you there.

  Ellen

  Whatever Cam was working on took longer than expected. I want him to stay out of it, but I’m really glad he’s going to be in there because I’m so nervous. At least if they throw him out, he will be hanging around one of the doorways to escort me in and will be close by when it’s over. But when I get through the garden and into the photography building, it’s not Cam waiting there—it’s Harrison.

  The new Harrison. Not the guy I thought I knew, that’s for sure.

  Actually, this guy looks one past the new Harrison…it’s…it’s…Psycho Harrison. Freak, backstabbing, borderline-personality-disorder Harrison.

  And the way he’s looking at me…well, if looks could kill…

  Goose bumps crawl down my spine.

  I swallow, trying not to show any fear or worry that he’s here, looking all frazzled and rumpled like this—even though we’ve been order
ed not to approach each other.

  I try to act all cool. “I should have known you wouldn’t follow the rules.”

  “I don’t care about rules. Never have. I only want to talk to you about me, about why I did what I did. To try to explain some.”

  “I don’t want to talk about you or to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe because you only want to talk about you when this is now obviously about so many more people than just you. And—in all honesty, you need to step away and maybe check a mirror or shower before this whole thing starts?”

  He tries to smooth out his hair and fix his shirt. “I have been waiting here a long time, and I’m here to tell you, Ellen, that today in front of everyone, I swear I’m going to come clean. I only wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Tell me why I should believe you?” I stall while considering escaping back into the garden to try to get someone’s attention. But then I realize it’s lunch hour. There’s no one in the dorms at all right now. If Harrison’s been lurking out in here, it means he probably still has the access key so he can just follow me. How did I ever think he was attractive?

  As if he can read my mind, the jerk flashes that stupid twinkle-eye smile that first reeled me in, and he says all softly, “I’m really sorry about all this, I am.”

  “Are you?” So he can’t tell I’m nervous and feeling really vulnerable, I quickly decide that if I’m not going to run, then I need to go for maximum balance so I can fight. I slowly put down my laptop bag and align my back against the wall for extra support.

  He’s walking forward slowly while his eyes follow my laptop bag down to the floor. “Your leg hurting?” he asks quietly, stopping a short distance away from me.

  “Yes. It’s…yeah. Hurting.”

  “Damn your legs…but they are pretty, even if they’re forever going to be all scarred and…broken.”

  “Why say stuff like that? Do you want me to hate you more than I already do?”

  He laughs. “Always so quick on the responses. Your little friend, Laura—she was right about me, you know.”