And They Were Roommates(67)
“Who you used to be?”
My logic tells me to turn back, but I don’t. “I had a different name before surgery. And hormones.”
Xavier nods gradually.
I’m not sure how to read it. “If the admin finds out, then they could make me leave campus and you all behind, you know—?”
“No.”
“No?”
Xavier’s expression is taut. “Don’t get me wrong, I get being concerned. I hope they wouldn’t do that, man. But if they do, I swear, I’ll punch them in the throat.”
“Oh.”
“The rest of STRIP would do the same. We’ll aim straight for the board of trustees.”
My chest warms. STRIP would have my back. Lately, there’s no denying that. But everyone else at this academy?
Even Jasper?
A bitter ache strikes me—I can’t believe that even now, despite everything, there’s a part of me that wonders if I could trust him. “Thanks.”
Xavier points at Blaze and Robby digging through a bucket full of latex resistance bands. Blaze straps one around his head and stretches it too far, and it slaps into his eyes. “Go help those losers. They need an expert like you.”
Chapter 34
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 6
No one shows up to STRIP Time.
I work on a calculus study guide at my desk, hoping someone—anyone—needs help during the last week before final exams. Even though the last thing I need is an interruption from studying. As more time passes, the reality becomes undeniable, and an overwhelming sadness weighs down my chest. Robby was right. After we screwed up the love letters, no one will risk associating with STRIP. And without any patrons to serve, this hundred-year tradition will truly cease to exist.
The first day of being STRIP’s face flutters back into my memory, when I sat here alone among packed, busy tables. That same loneliness creeps through me now.
Through the evening, I tap my graphing calculator over and over again until one question stops me in my tracks. A digital 47.22 glows back at me—not an option on the multiple choice. I try again. 47.22.
What if this were the test next Monday?
The bell tower strikes ten times.
I glance around the surrounding empty desks, then at my watch. Ten minutes to ten. One study guide is taking me four hours.
Embarrassment crashes through me as I file the STRIP Time sign into my bag, then head back to Philautia Residence Hall. Cold air bites at my face, and I wrap my coat tighter, slightly wishing Jasper hadn’t kept my scarf but mostly relieved he’ll at least stay warm tonight. After training with Xavier this morning, I never got a chance to shower before homeroom. Now the sheen of sweat I didn’t mind twelve hours ago has clogged every pore, and my shirt crinkles uncomfortably against my skin. Despite having gained the perfect PE body, maybe it’ll be my brain that fails me next week. Maybe I won’t rank.
Maybe I should get a head start on packing.
It’s an incriminating ten minutes past lights-out by the time I reach Room 503. I knock once. Grimes. Nothing. Not here. Jasper said he’d be moving back in, but maybe he decided to stay in his aunt’s instructor quarters after all.
My chest aches, even though it makes no sense. He can’t be my roommate.
Before the door even shuts behind me, I’m ripping my sweater and dress shirt over my head and tossing them at my dresser. As I go for my pants, a page flip comes from the other side of the room. Jasper, still in uniform minus his hair tied back in a scrunchie, working at his desk.
He’s in here.
He’s in here?
“You’re in here?!” flings out of my mouth.
Jasper turns around in his chair. His eyes lock on the last place I’d ever want them to.
A shirt. I need a shirt. Now.
I sprint to my dresser and snatch my sweater again to cover the scars. “You didn’t say anything!”
Too many emotions pass across Jasper’s face for me to understand them. Whatever they are, they make his eyes and mouth twitch. It takes three more seconds for him to shield his eyes with his palms. “What was I supposed to say?!”
“Come in. Our signal!”
“Only when you knock once.”
“I did knock.”
Jasper lowers his hands. “Did you? Apologies.”
In a panic, I chuck my sweater in his direction. “Don’t look!”
The soft fabric sails over his head and knocks into the glass fragrance bottles set on his dresser instead, instigating a domino effect of clinks and clangs. Two bottles fall onto the floor.
At least Jasper isn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, he’s looking at his toppled-over bottles.
I should apologize for my not-so-ceremonious outburst, and part of me wants to, but he’s seen me. Truly seen me. Who I am is all the more real to him. This could change everything.
My irrationality seizes control of my body and convinces me to snatch a pajama set from my dresser, run for the bathroom, and slam the door shut. I stand there, back glued to the door as breaths heave out of me. Not the first time. Almost definitely not the last.
At least, until my reflection catches my eye in the mirror. My collarbone sticks out more, and my arms have a bit more mass. With the slight definition to my chest, my scars are almost hidden too. Not fully, but also not a focus. This can’t be the same reflection I had when classes started, but two months of training couldn’t have possibly done this much either.