12. Claire
12
CLAIRE
U rgh.
A rat died at the back of my throat, somehow making it drier than the Sahara in the process. I can only conclude he was trampled by the herd of kangaroos jumping in my brain.
My eyes flutter open, and I immediately regret it, the light setting them on fire. I close them again.
“Ugh, kill me,” I groan.
“That bad, huh?” Lily sounds far too awake. “I thought you only had, like, three or four drinks. Here, take this.”
I chance opening one eye a bit, to see her handing me what looks like a tall glass of orange juice, with two Tylenols. “You’re an angel.”
It’s a struggle, but I make myself sit up, and wash down the pills with a big gulp.
“What you really need is grease. I’m about to head down to breakfast. Wanna come?”
“No,” I reply, because the idea of moving more than I already have in the next forever sounds like torture.
“Well, too bad. You actually do need to eat, or you’ll feel like this all day. Trust me, it’s not my first rodeo. Except mine involved a hell of a lot booze. God, you truly are a lightweight, aren’t you?”
“I hate alcohol. Give me fifteen?”
I drag myself to the bathroom. It’s only after a long hot shower that my brain can think in anything other than garbled groans. Then flashes from yesterday come back to me.
Oh god. What the fuck did I do?
I’m blushing as I brush my teeth, thinking about the way Keller touched me. And I let him. I really did. I mean, I might have said a few words like “shouldn’t,” and “can’t,” and “boyfriend,” but the bottom line was, I didn’t even try to make him stop, or get away from him. I wanted it. Him.
I wish I could blame it all on the booze, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Even now, as my mind replays the way he touched me, I’m not filled with regret as much as craving for more.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am a terrible person.
I know what this means, of course. I need to break up with Noah. I can’t have him as a boyfriend and think about another guy that way. Letting that other guy do what he wanted with me, too.
I distract myself from my personal drama by thinking about the later part of the night. The girl in the pool.
“Have you heard what happened to her?” I ask as I walk out of our small en-suite. “The girl from yesterday. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, I asked Cross first thing this morning. She woke up. Apparently, she’s dealing with some issues at home and wanted to end it all. So fucking sad. Cross says the sharks are going to pay for her therapy. She’s seeing one of them.”
“Oh. Generous of them.”
And generous isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think about Cross and those cold, probing hazel eyes.
“More than likely, he doesn’t want her family to sue. She did it in their house; they could claim she fell, the pool was unsafe, or whatever. Those people always solve issues with money. You really like that skirt, huh?”
Distracted, I look down at myself. I just grabbed the first clothes I saw, the skirt from yesterday and one of my dozens of cream blouses.
“Oh, sorry, I can change.”
“Don’t sweat it, wear it whenever you’d like. It suits you. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I am a bit of a clothes addict.”
She tilts her head to her side of the room, where next to the generous built-in wardrobe, she’s placed a portable one, filled to the brim.
I hadn’t noticed, actually. I just figured the extra space was to fit her cosplaying stuff. She does dress pretty conservatively, from what I’ve seen so far—outside of her fandom outfits. But she always looks very nice.
“Thank you. I like it. Maybe you should take me shopping. After I find a job, that is.”
I remember Keller telling me his sister is looking for a babysitter, but the idea of approaching him about that after last night is preposterous. I’m going to have to start job hunting as planned, after I get my schedule tomorrow.
“I’ll never say no to a shopping trip.” She grins a little before clearing her throat. “So, about yesterday. Are you really going to go to the cops?”
I pause, unsure. Something about that officer really rubbed me the wrong way. He was trying to get dirt on the houses, that much was obvious.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but do I have any choice? Won’t I get in trouble if I don’t?”
“Please, they didn’t even get your name.” She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t do anything, and the girl’s said she jumped of her own volition, so the police aren’t even involved any longer.”
I smile, relieved at least one of my worries is baseless. “Good. So, where are we eating?”
“The cafe under the library has lovely, affordable croissants, pastries, that sort of thing, but I feel like something a little heftier is probably the right call. Pancakes?”
“Sure, but didn’t the bus leave twenty minutes ago? I don’t have it in me to walk into town.”
“Oh, I have a car.”
Damn, she’s a useful roommate.
“Well, sort of. I have a criminally ugly vehicle on wheels big enough to carry my cosplay, in any case.”
“Any car is better than what I have, which is a bus pass.”
“You say that now. Wait until you meet Bertha.”
Bertha is a blue Nissan Cube, compact, and yes, rather ugly, but I’m certainly not complaining.
We drive into town, which is far more convenient than waiting for the bus—although there’s one every hour. About half an hour later, I am devouring a plate full of grease and carbs like I’ve never seen food in my entire life.
“You definitely were right about breakfast,” I admit. “Or lunch, I guess.”
“I’m often right, especially when it comes to hangover cures. Trust me, they’re needed after comic cons and ren fairs. You gonna answer that?” she asks, pointing to the vibrating phone on the table I’m actively ignoring.
“No.” I leave it at that.
The screen is facing down. That doesn’t change that there are only two people who would call me on a Sunday at twelve—or three in the afternoon, for them: Noah and my grandmother. I don’t want to chat with either. First of all, the food might have contributed to making me feel slightly human again, but I’m still miserable. But also, I am deeply ashamed of both my behavior, and the fact that I enjoyed what happened last night.
Crap. I will disappoint them both. Besides, what sort of person breaks up with their boyfriend over the phone? Less than a week after leaving the state? All of that is highly distressing and I simply don’t have the mental space for it.
“So what’s the deal with Cross and you? You’re seeing him?”
Lily laughs so hard, for so long, I think I’m going to have to put my Heimlich maneuver knowledge to the test night, but she eventually gets a hold of herself. “Erm, no. Cross likes to fuck with me, that’s all. I like ice skating. I’ve been doing it most of my life. There’s a rink on campus, and they have a pitiful hockey team he belongs to. He heard me talk shit about them with a friend one day, and has decided to be a dick to me ever since. It’s all very immature.”
“But you like him?” I guess. “It looked like you liked him a bit yesterday. Especially when I told him to back off and you took his side.”
She sighs deeply. “No, Claire. I took your side. It’s one thing to push back against the teasing; but threatening them with exposure? That kind of stuff, they take seriously here. If you’d posted that video, they would have ruined your life, and your reputation, before the end of the night. Made it so you run out of here crying, and no other college would ever accept you. I’ve seen it.”
My jaw falls. “Seriously?”
“It’s not high school. It’s not a small town. These people—they’re known around the country. You post something that makes them look bad, it goes viral and it causes problems for them, their politicians, their mummies and daddies, then their families’ stock shares plummet…so yeah. They respond swiftly to threats of that kind. I’m not saying don’t stand up for yourself. But don’t bring a gun to a swordfight. Unless you’re okay with them getting the bazooka in response.”
Fuck. Suddenly I’m grateful she intervened. “Okay, I get it. I’ll just stay away from them.”
She snorts. “Is that an option for you? I mean, Keller seems quite taken with you.”
I see her questioning eyebrow lift an inch and I ignore it entirely, redirecting my attention to my phone just for something to do which isn’t about Keller.
I spot a notification from my email, showing me that one of my VIP contacts sent something, which is unusual on a Sunday. I only have my bank, the college, and my old high school’s administration in that category. Maybe Rothford sent me my schedule early.
I open the message, and everything goes blank around me, all of my attention laser-focused on the subject of the email.
Notice of Enrollment Termination
Dear Ms. Fairmont,
In light of recent events, it is with our deepest regrets that we must notify you of the termination of your enrollment at Rothford University, California, as well as the termination of your scholarship, effective immediately.
The termination is due to a breach of section 7, paragraph 12 in the Code of Conduct signed by yourself on the 21st of July.
Please surrender your keys and student pass by 6:00 pm today.
Regards,
Marissa Collins
Executive Assistant
Rothford University Board of Directors