Chapter 48
Aric
THE LIbrARY IS PACKED WITH students cramming for finals week, busier than I’ve ever seen it—not that I’ve ever frequented the library before this year.
Typically, I’d be napping or out on the runeball field, not a care in the world.
But this semester, so much is riding on these exams. If I don’t pass, I’m off the team.
And maybe even stuck completing a fifth year at Coven Crest. Just the thought of it makes my fingers tighten around my quill.
When I got to the library, I headed for the table in the quiet alcove where Poppy and I used to meet up. But the table was already occupied, which made me feel equally pissed off and sad. But it’s just a table, and I’ve barely been sleeping, so maybe that’s why I was so emotional about it.
I wandered around the library until I found a narrow table at the back of the library, near the old bookshelves that I’ve never once seen a student pull a book from.
Now I’m sitting at said table, which I barely fit at, but it’s the only one available, so it’ll have to do.
I shift in my chair, trying to get comfortable, and immediately ram my knee into one of the table legs, then curse under my breath.
“Stupid fucking table . . .”
What I want is to be back in my room right now, but I know I’d just fall asleep at my desk, like I’ve been doing all week.
No, this is better. With the droning of other students whispering to one another and the feel of anxious finals-week energy in the air, I think I’ll be able to stay awake. Hopefully.
I focus on the textbook open in front of me: A Comprehensive Study of Runes and Symbolic Magic.
My textbook for runesmithing class. The class Poppy first helped me with, back when we barely knew each other and had no idea what this was going to turn into.
Back when things felt way simpler than they are now.
I reach up to touch Ma’s ring where it hangs from the chain around my neck.
I still haven’t had time—or the energy—to recast the runes Poppy helped me with and make the ring glow again.
But after finals week is over, that’s the first thing I’m gonna do.
Or, well, maybe the second. Sleep first. So much sleep.
With a sigh, I let go of Ma’s ring, then reach to turn the page. As I do, a small gasp sounds from off to my right, and I look up.
My heart slams.
“Poppy . . .”
She’s standing at the end of the aisle of books—the aisle I swore no student ever pulls a book from—and she’s got three thick tomes clutched against her chest.
Of course Poppy reads books from this section of the library. If I weren’t so drained and exhausted, I’d smile at that.
“Hi,” she says softly. For some reason, her voice comes out small, nervous. I don’t like it. I don’t ever want her to feel nervous around me.
“Hey,” I say back, but my throat sounds rough, like I haven’t spoken in days. Maybe I haven’t. Apart from Felex, I’ve barely seen or spoken to anyone. This is the last weekend before finals start, my last chance to prepare for my exams. I clear my throat. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
She walks closer, hesitating a little before setting her books onto the table across from me. “Yeah. I . . . just needed some new reading material. But it’s good to see you.”
Guilt punches through me. Despite seeing Poppy in Kitchen Spellwork on Fridays, we’ve not spent any quality time together recently.
I rub the back of my neck and wince at how tight my muscles are from hunching over my books.
“I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I’ve been kind of buried.
” I gesture to the table, where my rune textbook is open, with parchments scattered around it.
“You look it.” Her tone’s gentle, and her fingers drift along the books on the table, like she’s not sure what to do with her hands. “You’ve been working too hard.”
I laugh under my breath, the sound hollow. “Yeah, maybe.”
She remains standing, her bookbag slung across one shoulder, her hand pressing into the stack of books she set on the table. There’s an uncertainty surrounding her, like being around me is making her nervous.
“You wanna sit down?” I gesture to the small chair across from mine.
“Um, sure.” Poppy removes her bookbag, then sinks into the chair. She fits in it a lot better than I fit in mine. But even as she sits there, she’s struggling to look at me, and something about the expression on her face and the tightness in her shoulders makes concern swirl through me.
“Brains.” I sit up a bit and lean my elbows on the table. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her teeth nibble on her bottom lip, and she’s still not looking at me, instead staring into her lap, where I can see she’s twiddling her thumbs.
Something is clearly bothering her.
Immediately, I think of the invitations, of my failure to follow through on yet another thing we’d planned together.
“I got the invitation to the ball,” I say, trying to break through whatever this thing is between us. “It looks great. Who designed it?”
A brief smile flickers across Poppy’s lips. “Maeve drew the artwork, and then we worked together to get the text right.” The smile slowly fades. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t pass them out with you. Honestly, I completely forgot about it. Then I felt like an ass when I remembered. Why didn’t you remind me?”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. And I know how much you’ve been studying and practicing. I didn’t want to add anything else to your plate.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “It doesn’t sound okay.”
Finally, this gets her to look up at me, and her eyes are shimmery behind her glasses.
“Poppy, what is it? What’s going on? You’ve gotta tell me. And don’t just say that everything is fine, because I know you”—I gesture at her—“and I know something’s bothering you.”
She bites her bottom lip again, and her eyes look between mine, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to say what’s on her mind. Then, with a whispered breath, she says, “I . . . don’t know what we’re doing anymore.”
My stomach twists. “What?”
In a more hurried voice, she says, “You told me you don’t want me to tutor you anymore. It feels like you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. And I saw you with Morgan, and—”
“Morgan?” I sit back and tip my head. “What does she have to do with anything?”
“I saw you near the runeball field together, laughing and smiling. She was touching your arm, and you looked so . . . comfortable with her. Happy.”
I search my hazy memory, and through all the historical dates and rune maps and baking spells, I finally call to mind what Poppy is talking about: After our weekend practice, Morgan caught me on my way back to the athletics building. I had no idea Poppy saw that. But it was harmless.
“That was nothing,” I say. “She was asking about practice and the ball, about whether I was going, and I—” With a sigh, I reach up and smooth a hand over my hair. “I barely even remember the conversation.” Shaking my head, I ask, “What does that have to do with us?”
“Because she used to mean something to you.” Poppy’s voice is even smaller now. I get the feeling she’s having a hard time saying the words, even if it’s so clear to me that she needs to. “And she’s beautiful and confident and . . . and not anything like me.”
“Thank the goddess for that,” I say. “Because I don’t want her, Brains. I want you.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and the shimmering in them has turned to glassiness, tears starting to build along her bottom lashes.
“But for how long?” Her voice wobbles on the last word.
“How long until you decide this was a mistake? How long until the distance next year becomes too much and you find someone else in Faunwood, someone who’s actually there instead of—”
“Stop.” I reach across the table and offer her my hand. She looks at it, hesitates, and then slowly slides her palm into mine. She’s trembling. “That’s not going to happen, Poppy.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispers.
“I do know that. And I know I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately—I know I’ve been distracted and absent and I keep fucking things up—but it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I’m terrified.” The words tumble over one another to get out, messy and rushed.
She stares at me, tears still gathering in her beautiful lavender eyes. “Terrified of what?”
“Of failing.” My voice breaks as the truth comes out. “Of not being good enough. Of losing the apprenticeship before I even get it. Of disappointing everyone who’s ever believed in me.” I have to stop and breathe because my chest feels too tight. “And of losing you.”
“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” she asks, and there’s so much pain in her voice that it makes me want to tug her into my chest and cradle her head against my heart and never let go.
“I’m not trying to push you away. I thought—” I struggle to explain, to make her understand. “I thought I was helping. When I said you didn’t need to tutor me anymore, I meant you didn’t need to waste your time on me when you have so much else going on. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“It felt like you were saying that you don’t need me anymore. That I’d served my purpose and now we’re done.”
“That’s not—Poppy, no. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“But that’s what it felt like.” She pulls her hand out of mine and wraps her arms around herself.
Despite the heat in the library from the fire roaring in the big hearth, she looks cold.
“And then you kept canceling on me and missing our planned times together, and I just . . . I felt like I was watching you slip away. Like you were already halfway to Faunwood in your mind, already moving on to the next chapter of your life without me.” She sniffles, and though she turns her face away, I see as a single tear rolls down her cheek.