And They Were Roommates(74)

Jasper, playing with his repaired silver bracelet instead of making eye contact. In his cross-body bag, the knit scarf I gave him peeks out of the top, like it’s actually become part of his daily list of things to pack. Once I leave Valentine, I suppose that’ll be all he has left of me. “I apologize for the interruption. STRIP is holding a meeting now, but I can—”

The rest is lost to me. The heaviness from before takes over my body, and the world narrows into white.

Pressure hits the small of my back, sparking me alive again.

I blink up at Jasper’s face, hovering above my own. His hand still presses against me, holding me upright. “Charlie? Charlie.”

“What?”

“You were passing out.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” Jasper’s a mesh of high staccato notes, and his blue eyes race around my face. “You slept last night after I went to bed, didn’t you?”

“I’m fine,” I say more aggressively than I should. I straighten myself to no longer need his support. Luis is gone. Was I passed out for more than a few seconds? “Why are you late? Did you get in trouble?”

Jasper clenches his jaw. He sets his cross-body bag on the table, turning his back to me and whipping out his journal so hard that he could be slapping cockroaches with it.

Okay.

As I unzip my own backpack, I recall everything that happened right before I fainted. No more STRIP for me. No more Mr. Stern. No more Dix. No more Valentine. No more trying to fix this awkwardness between me and Delilah—I’ll be so far from her that I might even lose her as my best friend for good. Next term, a new STRIP face will be needed. I should’ve warned them, should’ve already packed, should’ve never thought otherwise.

“I didn’t rank,” I mutter.

Jasper stops moving, but he doesn’t turn around to face me. That’s probably for the better. I’d rather not see the pity on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I add, staring at the textbooks in my backpack that I’ll no longer need. “You’ll need a new face. But I can still help with the mixer.”

“Our writing plans are canceled today,” Jasper says with such a strangely charged rasp to his tone that I stiffen. When he finally turns, there’s no pity like I expect. Only an expression so tense that a vein pops on his forehead.

He’s angry? At me? Because of what I said?

I stare back at him, thrown. “But we only have one day left till the mixer.”

“I’ll take care of your ten remaining letters.”

“You have to write twenty more yourself, though! That’s impossible—”

“Charlie,” Jasper says strictly. Coldly. It makes me realize how much admiration he used to exude when saying my name, now that it’s gone. “Go back to our room. Now.”





Chapter 39

WAR AND PEACE




WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 13

Charlie von Hevringprinz, your mother called the office eleven times regarding final grades, which were emailed to all parents this afternoon. Please visit at your earliest convenience.

—Maverick, the Residential Retainers Commission

I rip the note off my door and ball it in my fist.

I don’t go to the office and return Mom’s call. I don’t pack up my uniforms. The moment I unlock the knob, I chuck the balled note at Jasper’s cardboard cutout as hard as I can, flop into bed without even changing out of my uniform, and go to sleep.

By the time I wake up again, my watch reads two in the morning. I blink around the room, where Jasper’s bedside lamp shines into my eyes. He sits at his desk, flipping through his notebook. He wears a headband that shoves his blond bangs up every which way, like he’s ready to put on cucumbers and a relaxing face mask. Totally calm.

Like we never fought.

My rage jerks my body awake. I swing my legs over my bed and stare him down. “What is wrong with you?”

Jasper yelps and flings his fountain pen, which soars across the room. He spins in his chair, his rolled sleeves slipping down his forearms. “Sleep.”

“How do you expect me to sleep after you practically freaked out and barred me from helping you finish the letters while you stay up all night?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Fine. Play clueless.” I head into the bathroom. I need to wash my face and brush my teeth and get this worst day of my life off me. “Don’t care that I’m leaving Valentine.”

Jasper doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. I spread toothpaste along my toothbrush and shove it into my mouth. Unbelievable.

From the other room, Jasper’s chair squeaks. “That was the last letter, Charlie.”

“Whu-ay?” I call back.

“They’re finished. The letters. It’s not a burden.” There’s a pause. “In the library, I was angry because I saw the ranks. Not because of you.”

My brow furrows. I spit out my toothpaste and walk back into the room. Jasper stands at the center, fist clenched at his side. A less stubborn piece of me tells me to drop it, to let go of this fight and celebrate that Jasper somehow finished rewriting the mixer letters. That we did it, even though we doubted we could.

“You’re angry?” I repeat instead. “You’re Rank One.”