And They Were Roommates(63)

“Yes?”

“I’ve noticed a change to your writing compared to your original Excellence Scholar essay. More exploration of the human condition, I suppose. Emotions. Keep leaning into that.”

I rub the nape of my neck. Of course he gets brought up one way or another. “That’s probably because of Jasper. He’s been teaching me a bit about that.”

“My two best students are close, it seems.”

I raise a defensive hand. “We’re just in STRIP together. And roommates.”

Then I remember. Not anymore.

That’s for the better. Because I like Jasper. I can’t deny that anymore. Sharing one room with the only person I’ve ever felt that way toward, and who won’t ever feel the same, would be torture. Besides, I don’t suddenly trust Jasper to never tell his aunt what I’m hiding. My brain knows better. Things can change.

Still, a pang remains in my chest. With one last wave, I head out the classroom door. As I turn the corner, I slam into something hard.

Jasper’s shoulder. He grins. “Talking about me?”

My face shoots with heat. “You were eavesdropping?”

“I gave you a head signal that I would wait for you.” He starts down the hallway. “Robby’s waiting around the library already. He said he would hunt down Blaze.”

I clench my hand at my side as if that’ll squeeze out all my embarrassment, then follow Jasper through the academic center and into the Halo.

“Jasper! Charlie!”

Robby and Blaze sit along the library steps, and we join them.

“I’m guessing we all found the timing of those signs not great,” Robby says, squeezing his binder like a stress ball.

“You believe someone saw us that night?” Jasper asks.

“Xavier and I stood guard on either side of that booth to keep watch. No one was around that close to lights-out.”

“I lament my involvement,” Blaze says in a dark, deep voice, biting his nails. “My cries attracted the third awakening of the Battle of Arachnid Doom.”

“I don’t think it was you, Blaze,” Robby says. “Maybe the trash bags looked suspicious even from a distance, and someone saw.”

I look toward the church bell tower and sister academy beyond. “Well, if our side didn’t get caught, then the other side did.”

Jasper faces me. “Call Delilah. Now.”





Chapter 32

PROMISE




MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4

Ms. Lyney leaps out of her chair, her red hair bow flopping against the peak of her head. “Everything okay with your mom?”

I summon my best puppy dog face by the office door, debating the quickest way to dial Delilah. This visit is vital, but it’s cutting into my daily eight-hour study session for finals, and I already have to stay up an extra hour at least to make up for it. “Actually, no. I really need to contact Delilah again about scheduling time off for—you know. The finale of—Um.”

“Gnome in Love.”

“Gnome in Love. Yes.” My attention drifts toward the counter, where a flyer advertises the winter mixer in an orange-and-purple font, bordered by ghost clip art. It’s Halloween in November–themed, apparently.

Mr. Stern pops out of the back room. He points at a shelf of gnomes. “Ms. Lyney, isn’t that your favorite reality show?”

Ms. Lyney swivels to face him. “Why, yes, it is.”

He shakes his head, but a teasing smile peeks through. “Fabricated love. A disgrace to our storytelling ancestors.”

“It’s not fabricated. It’s about a young woman meeting a room of men dressed as gnomes to see which she falls for.”

“You can’t simply shove two people in a room and expect them to fall in love.”

I raise my hand. “Am I allowed to speak with my friend now?”

Only ten minutes pass before I’m handed a phone. Once I’m in the back room, Mr. Stern is gone, and I can tuck myself into a corner.

“That was fast,” I say.

“I was already in the office,” Delilah whispers over the line. “I got caught.”

My blood runs cold.

“No way,” I mutter. “How did they spot you?”

“One of the bags was ripped. Probably some animal. I was kneeling there longer than I should’ve to clean up the mess. A residential retainer saw.”

Ripped. Is that what happened when Jasper and I tossed that last bag over together? His bracelet and my ring tore it apart? How many times can I completely mess everything up?

“I’m sorry, Charlie.” The exhaustion in Delilah’s voice only makes my heart sink deeper. “The mixer is a flop now.”

“Who cares about the mixer?” I say too sharply, the guilt already consuming me whole, but I try to calm down so she doesn’t feel bad for me too. With the awkwardness that’s been clinging to our friendship lately, another issue is the last thing we need. “Are you okay?”

“I talked to the vice principal. I told them I wrote the letters and was just trying to send Xavier a bunch of ooey-gooey junk. They bought it.”

“Really? So you’re not getting kicked out?”

“A week of detention for now. They didn’t want to touch those letters with a ten-foot pole, so they thankfully threw them out before they read them.”