“Mornin’,” he said casually as I stepped up beside him and ladled batter into the grooved ceramic plates.
“So many questions.”
“They’ll all be answered,” he replied in a low voice, spreading butter onto his steaming waffle. “If you get in.”
“Last night you said you knew I would. Now you’re saying I might not?”
“I’m saying you have to be evaluated,” he replied. “All the candidates do. And until the council vets you—”
“The council?”
Liam winced. “Forget you heard that. Listen, Rory, I know it’s exciting and confusing and a lot to take in. I was in your shoes a year ago. I know exactly how it feels. But you have to respect the process. And I can’t break my vows.”
“Can you at least tell me how I got chosen? Is it because I’m a Hepta?”
“That’s not the only reason,” Liam replied. “But it’s the reason you got the Zeta.”
“The Z on the card?”
Liam nodded. “Every candidate is assigned a Greek letter,” he explained, glancing behind us to make sure no one was in earshot. “Zeta has a numerical value of seven, so they always give it to a Hepta. If you get in, it’ll become your society name,” he explained, reaching for a bottle of maple syrup. “The letter and your class year. It keeps the membership list completely anonymous.” I didn’t know the alphabet well enough to know which letter was on my mom’s pendant, but I could easily find out.
“What’s yours?” I asked.
His expression darkened. “Look, Rory, I can’t talk to you about this. I’ve already said too much.”
“Is the secrecy really necessary?” I whined. “And what about the people who picked the card on the left last night? They know about the society and have no incentive to keep it to themselves.”
“Person, singular,” Liam corrected. “There was only one.” He nodded toward a kid sitting two tables away. I recognized him from my comp sci class. “That tab we put on your tongues was something called ZIP,” he explained, keeping his voice low. “It inhibits an enzyme in the brain that enables you to remember stuff. If we’d given you a stronger second dose, your memories of the tomb wouldn’t have stuck.”
“That’s what he got?” I asked, still watching the boy. He was spooning oatmeal in his mouth, his eyes vacant, like he was still half-asleep.
The corners of Liam’s mouth turned up in a little impish grin. “Along with a tiny dose of Rohypnol.”
“You roofied him?”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Hardly. It was the prescription kind, and just enough to make him think that any memory fragments he has left are from a dream.” Liam pulled out his Gemini, which was lit up with a new text. “I gotta go,” he told me. “We can talk later. But not about this,” he warned. “I mean it, Rory. No more questions.”
“Fine,” I said. “But can you at least tell me if Hershey was there? Last question, I promise.”
“Hershey?” He let out a single, biting laugh. “No. Hershey was most definitely not there.”
“You’re acting like it was ridiculous for me to even ask,” I scoffed as he stepped past me.
He didn’t look back. “That’s because it was.”
I developed a routine that week, one I told myself I’d stick with until exams. Every day after my last class I’d stop at the dining hall’s coffee cart for a vanilla cappuccino then head to the library to do homework. It kept me from falling behind, but mostly it kept me from going back to Paradiso to see North, which is what I thought about doing every afternoon at four o’clock when I’d get a craving for a matcha latte and start rationalizing a quick walk downtown. It wouldn’t be to see North, I’d assure myself. He’s probably not even working. But every day I’d remind myself that I knew better, and I’d decide against it. If I wanted to excel at Theden, I had to stay focused. I couldn’t get distracted, especially not by a townie who would never understand why I cared so much about academics anyway.
My brain, apparently, hadn’t gotten the message. We’d talked about the perils of distraction in practicum that morning and I’d zoned out halfway through wondering whether North had tattoos anywhere other than his arms.
Excellent.
At least the Doubt had finally shut back off. I hadn’t heard it since that moment in the arena. I hadn’t heard from the society again either—whatever their “evaluation” was, it didn’t seem to have started yet. Which was good, because I was barely sleeping as it was. Despite the fact that we had enough homework to fill every waking hour between classes, there were a bunch of on-campus activities that first week that we were “strongly encouraged” to attend. Wednesday was the first-year bonfire and marshmallow roast, Thursday was the first pep rally, and this afternoon was a sign-up fair for intramural sports. I’d gone to the first two but was skipping the last one. I was all about joining, but the idea of playing softball or ultimate Frisbee on a regular basis made me want to pluck my eyeballs out.
“We should get Thai food tonight,” Hershey said as we bussed our trays after lunch. We were with Isabel and Rachel again. The four of us had started sitting together at every meal and hanging out in the common room at night. Izzy was self-deprecating and smart and struggled with her weight. Rachel was fearless and funny and had an opinion about everything. I liked them both a lot. But their bank accounts were in the realm of Hershey’s, and mine most definitely was not. We’d gone out for pizza after the pep rally and gotten Indian takeout on Tuesday night. Both times Hershey had ordered for us—white truffle pizza and 24-karat dosa, both ridiculously expensive—and both times we’d split the check four ways. I didn’t have to consult Lux to know I couldn’t afford this trend.
“Yum,” Isabel declared. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” Rachel chimed in.
Hershey arched an eyebrow at me.
“Sure,” I said, swallowing a sigh. I knew I could just ask Hershey to pay my share—she’d offered when we’d gotten the take-out—but I didn’t want to. I told myself it was because I didn’t think it was fair to her, but the truth was I didn’t want to remind the other girls how different I was from them. And by different, I meant not rich.
It was an odd thing, being at a school that gave a free ride to all its students and being in the socioeconomic minority. Pretty much everyone at Theden was wealthy. And not just my-parents-are-doctors-and-lawyers wealthy. My classmates had serious money, the kind that went back generations and would be waiting for them in trust funds when they turned eighteen. It was tempting to assume their money had gotten them in—after all, that’s what Hershey thought about herself—until you heard them speak. They were exceptionally, dauntingly intelligent.
Hershey wasn’t in our room when I got back that afternoon, so I dropped my bag and wandered outside. There were tables set up on the sidewalk and music blaring from speakers on the lawn. Kids in intramural T-shirts were holding sign-up sheets and handing out candy.
Avoiding the fray, I pulled out my phone and headed away from the courtyard, toward the practice fields. I hadn’t checked my newsfeed since breakfast, so there was a lot to catch up on. At 1:53 p.m. PST Beck had posted a selfie of himself standing next to a glossy print of a boat passing under Ballard Bridge with the status I thought I was at an art gallery. apparently not. I tapped the comment button and wrote, ooh, that’d be perfect for my closet.
Beck didn’t reply right away, so I kept scrolling down, skimming statuses, until suddenly it got colder and the glare on my screen disappeared. I looked up and saw a rust-colored canopy above me. I’d crossed into the woods. Now that I was paying attention, I could hear the crinkle of leaves brushing against one another and the distant rush of the river and, if I listened really closely, the sound of my classmates in the quad. I clicked out of my newsfeed and over to my newest playlist, sliding down the volume before I pressed play so I could still hear the rustle of the trees.
I stayed out of the cemetery, walking alongside the fence instead, toward the polo fields
and the stables where the team kept its horses. The girls’ field hockey team was playing a scrimmage on the practice field, so I sat on the hill to watch. If I kept my eyes on the ball as it shot from stick to stick, I could almost not think about North.
My Gemini buzzed just as the whistle blew at the end of the scrimmage. The sun was beginning its descent beyond the horizon, taking the afternoon’s warmth with it. It would be dark soon.
@HersheyClements: what r u doing?
Watching FH scrimmage, I typed. Omitting avoiding you and thinking about North.
@HersheyClements: get ur ass back here. we r going to din. Xo
“We’re leaving in sixty seconds,” she announced when I came through the door. “We have to eat early because Izzy wants to digest before bed.” Our dress fittings for the Masquerade Ball were the next day, and Izzy had been dieting all week so she could fit into a smaller size. According to Lux she was still seven pounds over her recommended weight, which seemed crazy to me. She was curvy, not fat, and her waist was tiny. I had my own anxieties about tomorrow’s fittings. With zero boobs, short legs, and a body like a ruler, I wasn’t a girl who looked good in formal wear. At homecoming the year before, I could’ve passed as a fourth-grader playing dress-up. Likely the reason I didn’t have a date.
“I’ll meet you guys downtown,” I said, stepping past Hershey into our room. “I’m gonna take a shower first.”
She sighed like I’d just ruined the entire evening.
“Izzy’s fitting is at nine tomorrow,” she said. “Which means we need to be finished eating by eight forty-five so she has a full twelve hours to de-bloat.”
“Well, we feel disgusting and want to take a shower,” I replied. “So you can either wait for me, or I can meet you guys there.” I knew she wouldn’t offer to wait.
“Whatever,” she said, grabbing my Gemini from my hand. “It’s Thaiphoon on Drake Street.” With uncanny speed, she added the restaurant to my planner and pinned the location on my map. “Here.” She handed the handheld back to me and sauntered out.
I switched my location status to private, then quickly showered and changed into my one pair of semi-expensive jeans (a going-away present from my stepmom) and a silk T-shirt I found at my favorite thrift store in Seattle. It was a little low-cut, so I switched my mom’s pendant to a longer chain that would lay heavy on my collar, keeping me from flashing my decidedly unsexy bra every time I leaned forward. I’d seen Hershey wear a hoodie as though it was a blazer, so I tried that, cuffing the sleeves and letting it hang open, the hood tucked inside the back collar. Twenty minutes and two impatient texts from Hershey later, I was on my way out the door. The sun had dipped below the mountains, so I opted for the street route this time, passing through the imposing campus gates before turning onto Academy Drive, a straight shot to the west end of downtown.
The restaurant was a block north of Café Paradiso, which meant unless I wanted to take some crazy back-alley route behind it, I’d have to walk past the café’s entrance. As I approached the propped open door, butterflies nipped at my chest. “You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath. Still, I kept my head down as I passed by the café, pretending to be absorbed in a text. Really I was just typing the words ridiculous ridiculous ridiculous over and over in my notepad.
“Hey.”
I choked on my gum then tripped on nothing. North caught me by the elbow as my Gemini clattered onto the sidewalk, bouncing a little on its rubber corners. My gum was stuck to the cement.
“Easy there,” he said. He bent to pick up my handheld. Heat flooded my cheeks as I saw him glance at my screen. “I think adorable is a better fit,” he said, handing it back to me. He smelled like bar soap and Earl Grey tea. “Cool hoodie.”
“I’m on my way to dinner,” I blurted out. My eyelids were firing like a camera shutter, blink blink blink blink blink. The scent, his nearness, these things had come out of nowhere. It was taking me a second to recover. I put my hands in my pockets and tried to look blasé. “Thaiphoon.” I pointed at the sign ahead, as if he might not believe me. “I should probably—” Go was the word that came next, but it got caught in my throat somewhere as our eyes met. There it was again. That feeling of familiarity. Like I knew him better than I did.
“Do you really want to eat overpriced, small-portioned vegan Thai food right now?” he asked.
“I sense you have a better idea,” I said wryly. He smiled.
“I do. An underpriced, oversized, Italian meatball sub.”
“The boy who drinks matcha and uses stevia eats meatball subs?”
“Hell, yeah,” North replied. “And because you have a skeptical look on your face, your acceptance of my offer just became mandatory.” He lifted my Gemini from my hand. “What’s your password?” he asked.
“I’m not telling you my password!”
“Fine. Enter it yourself then.” He handed it back to me.
“And why am I doing this?” I asked as I punched out the numbers.
“Necessary precautions,” he said when I handed it back to him. “We can’t have all your throngs of Forum followers finding out about Theden’s best-kept secret. Giovanni might raise his prices on us.” He blinked in surprise. “Your handheld’s already in private mode.”
“Why is that so astounding?”
“Because you’re a Forum girl,” he replied. “The whole point of the platform is to facilitate the constant narration of your all-important life. What will your followers think if they don’t know where you are at all times? How will you possibly stay relevant?”
I made a face. “Are you always this cynical?”
“Yes.” He handed my Gemini back to me. “Why’d you go private?”
“My roommate was bugging me. Why is your laptop ginormous?” I pointed at his messenger bag. It wouldn’t close, his computer was so big.
“It’s an antique,” he replied. “I was actually on my way to a repair shop a few blocks down. You mind coming with, then we’ll get the subs?”
I was already sending Hershey a text. Not feeling well. :( Gonna skip dinner.
“Your roommate?” North asked with a nod at my screen. I nodded back.
“The girl with me the day we met,” I said, toggling the vibrate switch to off before slipping my Gemini into my back pocket. I preferred to save my butt from the text storm that was sure to ensue. “Yeah, I remember her. She’s pretty hard to forget.” North was looking the other way, readjusting his shoulder strap, so I couldn’t see his face. “We should get going,” he said then. “Shop closes at seven.”
I nodded, suddenly self-conscious. Memorable was something I was not. I was the girl who blended into the background, easy to forget.
The repair shop was tucked into an alley, its entrance hidden behind a nondescript brick wall, and wasn’t the fancy electronics shop I was expecting. It was cramped and crowded with dated gadgets and gizmos and some random jewelry that appeared to be for sale but didn’t have price tags.
“Hey, NP,” the girl behind the counter said, looking up from the Gemini in her hands. She was my age, maybe younger, and punk pretty, with hot-pink bobbed hair and a platinum-studded button nose.
“Noelle, this is Rory,” North said. “She goes to the Academy. Rory, this is Noelle. Her grandfather owns this place.”
“Hi,” I said.
“Wow, you go to Theden?” Noelle asked. “That’s so cool. I just started my application. Any tips?”
“I’m still surprised they let me in,” I admitted. “I’m sure you’ll get in too,” I told her, because that’s what people say, when really I was thinking that whoever did her psych eval would make something of her decision to dye her hair pink and put holes in her nose. Nobody at Theden looked like that.
“So what’s wrong with it?” she asked North, picking up his clunky silver laptop. The overhead light glinted off the surface of a gold locket in the glass cabinet below, drawing my eye. It was dove shaped with a tiny hinge on the left side. There was a ti
ny blue gem at the bird’s eye and silver etching at its wing. It looked so out of place among the other, bulkier pieces, so delicate and feminine amid the heap of gold watches and gray plastic video consoles.
“Hard drive’s fried,” I heard North say. My eyes were still on the locket. “I’d toss the thing, but I’m sort of attached. Think Ivan can fix it?”
“He can fix anything.” Noelle slipped the laptop into a padded ziplock bag then began typing out a claim ticket. She knew North’s contact info from memory. “You need a loaner in the meantime?” she asked, swiveling the touchscreen for North to sign. “Oh, wait, you have, like, seven other computers.”
“Nine, actually,” North said with a grin.
It took a sec for this to register. “You own nine computers? Do you collect them or something?” I asked.
“Old computers are sort of a hobby of mine,” North said as he lifted his bag back on his shoulder. “So you’ll call me when it’s ready?” he asked Noelle.
“Yep,” she said, reaching for her Gemini.
“Good luck with your Theden app,” I told her.
“Thanks,” she said distractedly, already back to her handheld. North pulled the door open for me and I stepped outside into the alley.
“And now,” he said as he joined me on the pavement, “dinner.” He pointed at the green awning next door. GIOVANNI’S was printed in peeling white letters.
I was expecting a fast-food place, but Giovanni’s was a sit-down restaurant with a handful of white-clothed tables. Giovanni himself was in the kitchen. He greeted North with a bear hug that left a tomato sauce stain on the back of North’s T-shirt and quickly went to work on our sandwiches, which, North explained, weren’t on the menu. He used to eat at Giovanni’s when he was a kid, and Giovanni noticed that North never ate his spaghetti. He’d pick the meatballs off and put them between two pieces of garlic bread, then douse the whole thing in marinara. So one day Giovanni brought out North’s creation just the way the little boy liked it and had been making it for him ever since.
Free to Fall Page 9
