I should have asked why, or what’s going on between you guys. She paused, waiting for me to do it. But I couldn’t make my mouth move.
Heather waved her hand, as if casting away the negativity. “So the deal with this fellowship is you’re pretty much guaranteed a spot at whatever school you want. Maybe I’ll go to Haaa-vard.” She pantomimed pulling a monocle away from her eye. “With all the supersmart uptight people. I know that’s your vote—you’ve always been obsessed. Or maybe Oxford, and then I can go to the theater in London whenever I want.” She clapped. “Okay, well, I’m off to get a blow out for Sweetheart. Mom said I can do whatever I want as a reward. You want to come?”
She doesn’t know, I reminded myself. Somehow, I managed to shake my head.
“Boo. Fine. I’m sure you have some very important studying to do or whatever. Pregame in the basement tonight, don’t forget. You better be there.”
All of a sudden, Heather reached down and hugged me. I stiffened in her arms, but she didn’t seem to notice. She pulled back, squeezed my shoulders, and smiled. “I don’t know why you’re being weird, but tonight’s going to be the best night ever. We’re going to celebrate, okay? And look, I know we’re Sweetheart rivals, so—” She winked, flashing her impish smile. “May the best woman win.”
When she slammed the door, I picked up my laptop and threw it against the wall. It hit the floor hard, screen tearing free of the keyboard. Looking at it—the laptop I’d bought with a credit card I couldn’t afford—I sank to my knees and sobbed, each breath like dragging glass up my throat.
Everything had been ripped away in a single moment. Heather had beaten me, and she’d barely even tried. Like always, she’d come out on top, and I was second-best. I needed to get rid of this pain—it was going to destroy me, burn me from the inside out.
I scrambled through my desk drawer until I found the Adderall, opened the plastic bag, and shook the pills into my mouth. I chased them with the handle of whiskey Heather kept in her closet.
It wasn’t enough. I needed to really escape.
I tore through Heather’s dresser, looking for whatever else she had that could take these feelings away. In the bottom drawer, I found an orange bottle with Chinese writing that I recognized as Courtney’s diet pills. Heather was always stealing them from her, saying, we have to save her from herself. But it was pointless—Courtney’s mom just overnighted her more whenever they went missing. Evil woman, Heather would say. The depths some parents will sink to. But what did Heather know about bad parents, or the weight of expectations, or what it felt like to want more for someone, want to be more for someone? Heather’s parents did nothing but dote on her. What did she know about anything?
I popped the top off and poured the little white pills into my palm, then froze, and thought of my father. The number of times I’d witnessed him doing exactly this. Where it had led him.
Then I thought of Dr. Garvey and the life my father should have had. I swallowed the pills and chased them with whiskey.
After time, my vision blurred, and I wobbled, catching myself on Heather’s desk chair. The cocktail was kicking in, doing what it was supposed to: carving away the sadness, the horror—but instead of soothing numbness, the hollow space in my chest filled with anger.
Not anger. Rage.
Dr. Garvey had used me. Taken advantage of how much the fellowship meant to me, flexed his power and authority, dangling the letter over my head, all to get what he wanted.
My pulsed raced. And Heather. It had all worked out for her. Of course it had. She’d been approached by Dr. Garvey out of the blue, the kind of opportunity people like me only dreamed about. He’d treated her like he should have, like a student, using his power and authority to help, not hurt. The world had worked the way it was supposed to for Heather Shelby. Why her and not me?
Four years of Heather getting everything. Chi Omega. A BMW on her birthday. Beautiful dresses. Heather was never afraid of the future, never afraid to speak up, never afraid she wasn’t worth listening to. Heather had two loving parents and a bright future. Heather had the fellowship. Heather had Harvard.
A seething rage rose inside me, tall as a tidal wave. You were supposed to win if you were the best, but Heather somehow tricked the system, threw the scales out of whack. She was the one who deserved to have everything ripped from her. She was the one who deserved to be left with nothing. Not me.
My thoughts blurred into a single desire: I wanted to claw it back from her. I wanted to punish her, erase everything unfair that had happened. All the way back to the first day, freshman year.