And They Were Roommates(69)
“My aunt gave it to me.” He holds out the pen, but he doesn’t lean closer to show me the details, even though I wish he would. The 89 engraving along the barrel gleams in my bedside lamp light. “It was a gift after I published my poetry collection.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yes, we’re not close, but she’s supportive of my work. She understands how Valentine can restrict it. Really, I’m glad she understands this place. How lonely it can be.”
Once, I accused Jasper of not knowing what that’s like. But despite how charming and talented he is, he doesn’t have many he can rely on or relate to at Valentine either. I’ve had that proven time and time again, especially as STRIP threatens to fall apart.
“Your mother went here, correct?” Jasper asks.
“Did I tell you that at camp?”
“Yes.” Jasper sets his journal to the side. “I also remember that your favorite food is breadsticks because that’s all you ever ate. And, well, it’s odd.”
My face heats. “You can’t talk. Yours is blueberries.”
“You remember mine too,” he says, his upper lip quirking, but it vanishes quickly. He even clears his throat. “Any questions yet? And don’t feel bad. You’re not a distraction. I’m ahead on my set of letters.”
Of course he is.
The shame settles deep, especially as I catch another glimpse of his glimmering number-one pin that I’ve dreamed so many times could be mine. “To be honest, I don’t know how long this guide will take me.”
“No probl—”
“Or the four others in my backpack. With the final rank announcements coming up, every grade I get needs to be perfect, so I’m a little overwhelmed—”
“Charlie, it’s—”
“—or they’ll take away my scholarship. Then it won’t matter that I hid that I’m transgender because they’ll kick me out for my bad grades, or if our entire class tells the academy about STRIP, then they’ll kick me out for that, and then Mom will be crushed. No matter what, everyone will regret putting faith in me as an Excellence Scholar. They’ll think someone like P.M. should still be here, so I probably should be packing instead of talking to you.”
Jasper stares.
Only then do I realize how much came out of me and how long it must’ve been building up. Why did it have to explode onto Jasper of all people?
I wish I could crawl under these covers and be nevermore. “Forget I said anything.”
His brows remain crossed. “Cancel STRIP Time this week.”
“What? No way.”
“Barely anyone shows up anymore, anyway.”
A pang strikes me. “We need STRIP to keep looking unsuspicious. I can do it all.”
Jasper’s hand twitches and lifts off his knee, but then it sinks back down. “Just because you can do it all doesn’t mean you should, Charlie.”
I stare at his unmoving hand, overcome with crushing disappointment that it didn’t move farther. Every day, this incurable illness gets worse.
“Charlie?”
“Y-yeah,” I say, jumping. “Hi.”
“Hi. Did you hear me? It’s all right to take a break.”
My exhaustion tempts me to, but I can’t listen to Jasper and blow everything.
“Although I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath,” Jasper adds with a sigh. “Right now, you’re thinking about how you’d never listen to a word of advice I give you.”
“How did you—?” I stop.
But it’s too late, yet another smile tugging at his lips as he returns to his journal. Like he thinks he knows me better than anyone.
Jasper is the only one I’ve ever shared a bedroom with. The only one I’ve spent a summer with outside Mom or Delilah. The only one I’ve kissed. Does he know me better than anyone?
Can I trust Jasper?
“Jasper?” I say toward my lap.
“Yes, Charlie?”
“I meant my surgery scars. Earlier, when I said not to look.”
“I know. I figured it out.”
Still not an apology. I need to. I lift my head. Look at him. “I’m sorry I yelled. And threw clothes at you. And I’m sorry I knocked over your bottles. I know you like them a certain way.”
“It’s all right.” Jasper smiles at his journal.
My heart pounds at how kind it looks. Understanding, even. I still waver before speaking again. “I told Xavier.”
His pen stops moving. “Xavier won’t tell anyone. But I know you’re even unsure about me, so I don’t expect you to believe me—”
“I want to believe you.” The words come out before I fully comprehend I’m saying them, and for a second, I regret it for how open and raw I feel in the aftermath. But that’s also how I know what I said is the truth.
Jasper blinks back at me. “I hope you can someday.”
Chapter 35
THE SUN ALSO RISES
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7
When the bell tower curses campus with seven bongs, my face is planted in a book of blackout poetry. I grunt as I sit up in my desk chair, trying to piece together my memory from the night before. After Jasper helped me with my literature guide, I moved over here to work on mixer letters. I finished four.