Chapter 42
The gala was delayed an hour, first due to a false fire alarm, then due to a temporary power outage caused by an unusual aurora borealis display.
It was a record-breaking phenomenon. Most attendees would say it was a sign from the universe.
If this setback hadn’t occurred, nobody would have been outside to witness the rich pageantry: a sky painted in light and resplendence.
A long, slow breath releases through my lips as I wait in the wings beyond the stage.
And when my name is finally called, I move carefully into the bright spotlight, head held high.
Because I know he’s there, just beyond the descending steps, waiting.
Sumner Winchel, dressed in a black suit and tie, eyes only for me.
Madelene’s inescapable wolf whistle sounds from somewhere to my left.
I spot her next to our mother, whose eyes are brimming with tears as she applauds.
But to my utter shock, it’s Jared who hollers the loudest. A knowing smirk plays across his lips as he observes the two of us, as though we’re as obvious as the moon.
“I’m proud to present the hardworking students who’ve put in the work toward benefiting the future not only of Ivernia through this gala, but of themselves and this community,” Mrs. Vidar-Tett says. “We celebrate these seniors as they soon take brave steps toward their next great adventure.”
The music cue sounds, but when I look to Sumner, he doesn’t seem nervous.
His fingers thread through mine as he takes the lead and aligns us on the dance floor among the rest of the students.
Every movement is intentional and precise.
Not a single step breaches the choreography I’ve painstakingly learned.
“You’re good at this.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he says. “It’s geometry, really. Angles and patterns in a certain order.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“I may have asked William to walk me through it last week,” he admits. “There are only so many times I can take being called a dungeon rat, Carmichael. Sue me for doing something about it.”
A quiet tension folds over the evening, right as the bidding begins. Sumner and I join my family at their table, where Jared takes immense pleasure in whisper-shouting, “I knew it.”
“What are you even doing here?” I say as he scoops me into a hug.
“Took the train,” he says, high-fiving Sumner before pulling him into a quick, shoulder-slapping embrace. “Got a job off campus—nothing fancy, just retail—but I wanted to at least put some of what I’ve earned toward bidding. Think fifty bucks can get me a yacht?”
“Is your dress wet?” Madelene runs a hand over the fabric near my shins. “I swear, you have no idea how to care for nice things.”
“You’re a nice thing and I care about you.” I force her into a hug, squeezing her with so much enthusiasm that she groans. I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you.”
She struggles out of my grip. “What would you do without me?”
I don’t know, and I don’t ever want to find out.
Sumner’s shaking my mom’s hand, visibly nervous. “I don’t quite know how to put into words how much your daughter means to me—”
“So he’s going to try yodeling it.” I raise my eyebrows. “Prepare yourselves.”
He crooks an arm around me, playfully pinching my side.
“This is sickening,” Madelene says, delighted. “I’m obsessed.”
My mom only smiles. “I see the light you bring out in her,” she tells him. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”
The string quartet starts up again. My stomach tumbles uneasily as attendees move around the room, reading the bidding sheets and everything they offer.
Every so often, Headmistress Ellerby and Mrs. Vidar-Tett bend their heads together in discussion before parting ways, tending to approaching alumni.
From underneath the table, Sumner squeezes my hand. We’ve done everything we can.
Dinner is served, and I’m listening to my mom tell a story about a library patron when I spot Analiese across the room.
I scoot from my seat. “I’ll be right back.”
She offers me a hesitant smile as I approach. “If you tell anyone I pulled the fire alarm, I’ll deny it.”
“I would never. In fact, I’d say it’s your greatest feat of all time.”
Her eyes scan the room. “So—it worked?”
I nod. “Listen, I know our paths diverged this year, but I guess I had a lot to figure out. And I’m sorry I didn’t let you in.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she offers. “I could have tried harder to look past what I wanted to achieve to understand how you felt. And—well. If you’re up for it, I’d love to hear everything that happened with—you know.
Not for the paper. For me. Also?” She mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key. “It stays between us.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I promise.
Someone calls her name, drawing her attention. She holds up a finger to say one second.
“This was a great idea. You should try to enjoy it, at the very least,” she says before dashing away.
Later, when there’s a flurry of bidding happening, Sumner and I find Sabine and Inessa near one of the auction tables.
“Don’t mind me,” Inessa says. “I thought if I stood here and looked all forlorn and sad, it would make people want to spend more money.”
“I can’t thank you enough for the sprinklers,” I say, then shift my focus to Sabine. “And the impromptu ankle fake-out. That saved us.”
She hikes up the hem of her dress and rotates her ankle.
“It’s a modern miracle,” she says. “I did have to convince Ellerby and Whelehan that ‘Enzo’ left town—and that they’d have a tough time tracking him down.
With everything else going on, I’m not sure how much they’re going to pursue it.
Seems like they tightened security tonight, though. ”
“I can’t think of anyone who’s less of a threat,” Sumner says.
“He’s really gone, then?” Inessa asks.
A dull ache tugs at my heart. “He’s gone.”
When I’d checked the Ivernia website earlier, William’s name remained as the original founder. He’d gone on and continued to live his life the way he wanted.
I hope he was happy. I hope he remembered us.
By the time we make a few rounds to thank alumni for their generosity, the evening is winding down. People huddle by the coat check while others polish off the last of the dessert. A few seniors stand near the exits to thank everyone for coming.
Lionel finds us, dashing in his burgundy tux. “Hey, so, I know William’s not here anymore. But you think we could, I don’t know”—he looks between us, suddenly bashful—“keep the group chat going?”
“No doubt,” I tell him. “You can’t get rid of us that easily.”
“There are like sixty different video games I need to discuss with you,” Sumner adds, grinning.
Ellerby excuses herself from a conversation when she spots me. She wears an expression of polite neutrality as she maneuvers over, but I meet her halfway.
My heart sinks. “It’s not enough, is it?”
“If we needed the money, no. I’m afraid it wouldn’t be enough.”
I try, really try, not to feel like this was all for nothing. No matter what happens next, this place won’t be forgotten. And we’ll be okay.
But—hold on. “If we needed—?”
A smile toys on the edge of her lips. “I received a call from Beaumont Guidry’s legal team earlier.
There was a letter found in his documents that had been previously overlooked.
A property deed drafted by Ivernia’s founder dating to the school’s origins, in fact, which ensures Ivernia is no longer Charles Guidry’s property to sell.
I’m meeting with them tomorrow to go over the details.
” She places a hand on my shoulder. “This changes everything.”
William did this, for us. Hope trips off the edge of my tongue. “So we get to stay?”
“Tonight’s donations will go toward our community,” she says. “And yes, we get to stay.”
I throw my arms around her, clearly taking her by surprise. “Thank you.”
Inevitably, this place will look different a year from now.
Two years from now. Ten. Fifty. It won’t be full of the same students lounging in the quad or darting along the pathways to make it to class.
Maybe it will completely transform, or maybe signs of its history will remain.
It doesn’t matter. The important pieces will still belong to me.
Right now, it’s ours.
Sumner’s waiting for me by the coat check. It’s possible I’m not meant to share this news so soon, but I can’t help telling him. His eyes light up, relief palpable as it consumes him, right up until that mischievous grin returns.
“And to think,” he says slyly, “you did all this because you couldn’t fathom not seeing this face for the rest of the year.”
“Exactly,” I deadpan as he grabs our coats. “You read me so easily.”
I track the confusion on his face as he helps me slide on my peacoat. “Why is this so heavy?”
My fingers curl around the brass trophy in my pocket, the very one I’d uncovered in the commons when he’d changed into his suit hours ago.
“Huh.” I grin. “Is it heavy?”
He raises an eyebrow, then lowers his lips to my ear. “You know, I don’t need a trophy, Carmichael.” He takes a small step back, eyes softening, as if taking in the moment. Then his hand closes around mine. “I’ve already won.”