Chapter 24
I’m not in trouble, which is fantastic because I’m not sure how much more I can afford. Mrs. Vidar-Tett is this weekend’s resident attendant, and as a birthday gift, or extended apology, she waves me to my room with a warning.
Only after I climb the stairs and peer down the hall do I notice the streamers.
My chest expands. Students sometimes decorate each other’s doors for birthdays and other special occasions, but I didn’t expect it this year.
Analiese’s been drowning in schoolwork and newspaper deadlines, and Jared isn’t around to remind everyone to “be nice, it’s her birthday.
” The details take shape as I grow closer, a few half-blown periwinkle balloons and a handwritten sign that reads Happy Birthday Delaney!
A barely audible creak, followed by a whispered hiss. “Delaney!”
Sabine and Inessa poke their heads out of her room and pretend to toss confetti into the air. “Happy birthday!”
“You did this?”
“Yeah, girl!” Inessa steps out of Sabine’s room and starts walking backward toward her own. “Meet here tomorrow around ten.”
So I do.
I email Mr. Kovacs and tell him I won’t need lab access after all, then pull on my favorite corduroy dress with a cotton turtleneck underneath. I find my favorite fleece-lined tights under my bed and slip on my headband and loafers before stepping out to find—
Analiese.
“Hey,” she says nervously, eyeing the decorations. She has shimmery streamers in her hand. “Someone beat me to it.”
Just then, Sabine and Inessa emerge from their separate rooms, a bundle of energy and excitement.
“Analiese,” Sabine says, smiling. “Come with us. We’re gonna take Delaney to Betty’s.”
Betty’s Coffee House has the best hot cocoa and chocolate croissants in town, no question, which is an open secret because the line is long on weekends. Analiese doesn’t like to go unless she brings a book to pass the time.
“You don’t—” I start.
“Yeah, I’d love that.” She pastes on a smile.
If Analiese feels the seismic shift in distance between us, she doesn’t show it.
Our text messages are a long string of rain checks.
I didn’t realize how much newspaper bonded us until I was no longer doing it.
I miss her, but I don’t miss her rigid scheduling.
It’s been freeing, in a way, doing things for myself.
And while I’m glad she’s coming with us, I’m not sure how she’ll fit in with Sabine and Inessa. They’ve never run in the same circles.
We’re a jumble of noise and footsteps as we clatter down the stairs and into the commons, where William reads in an armchair next to the lit fireplace. His hand threads lazily through his waves before he glances up, spotting our tiny parade.
“Not Enzo doing homework on a weekend morning,” Inessa hollers from across the room.
He grins, and my heart careens down to my toes. He’s wearing the lost and found hoodie with a pair of dark jeans, hair lightly tousled. His eyes soak in the warmth of the room when they land on me.
“Get your ass up and join us,” Inessa says.
William sets the textbook aside, beaming.
“You only turn eighteen once.” Sabine pushes her back against the door, but William steps over to hold it all the way open. “So it’s gotta be memorable.”
I glance at William. She has no idea how memorable.
After we scan out of the admin building, we meander toward the paved path leading to Main Street.
It’s a misty gray morning, and even though Lake Placid is majestic with liquid sunsets bleeding across a watercolor sky, there’s something moody and magical about the coziness of damp earth and dew-dripped leaves.
The air hangs heavy with the medicinal scent of balsam and citrusy evergreen and the rich spice of cedar.
It’s so fragrantly fall and nostalgic that I wish I could bottle it up and carry it with me everywhere.
William migrates toward the center of the road as we walk, and I keep having to rein him to the side. He startles every time a car whooshes past.
“You haven’t gone into town yet, have you?” I ask, careful to keep my voice low.
His eyes are wide with bewilderment. “No.”
“Just”—I search for the right words—“try to be less obvious?”
“For you,” he says, gold-rimmed eyes gleaming, “anything.”
The sentiment does nothing to calm my soft, fluttering heart.
Main Street is a cacophony of cars sweeping into empty parking spaces, overlapping conversation, and peals of laughter from excited children.
Wine cellars offer tasting rooms and breweries boast about upcoming happy hours while cafés entice customers with promises of steaming cider and seasonal coffee flavors.
Antique shops and popcorn companies and art galleries line the storefronts, and the only movie theater hosts a letterboard inviting viewers to come check out new releases.
Sabine pops in and buys us a bag of confetti-drizzled kettle corn to share as we join the long line outside of Betty’s. William tests one, then begins scooping more by the handful.
“This is delightful,” he proclaims.
Analiese sidles up next to me. “I didn’t realize you had plans.”
“Sabine only told me last night.” I don’t want her to feel left out, like I secretly planned this without her. Analiese’s schedule doesn’t often allow time for spontaneity.
“Analiese.” Inessa comes over and rests her forearm on top of her shoulder. “Tell them about Ellison’s class on Thursday.”
The line moves along as Analiese launches into a story about Julian Montfort earning the class a surprise pop quiz because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and how Analiese talked Mr. Ellison into making it a bonus assignment instead.
Neither were ideal, but at least the extra assignment could count toward their grade, not against. I can’t help glancing at William every now and then, finding him drinking in his surroundings with a sense of awe.
“So where do you two wander off to in the evening?” Inessa asks as the line moves ahead.
I freeze. Had people started to notice?
“Us?” I blurt as William catches my eye. “Well—I—”
He jumps in without hesitation. “Delaney is helping me with my problem.”
“Your problem?” Analiese echoes.
Oh no. This is not what I need right now.
“Studying…for calculus,” I lie.
She arches a brow. “Isn’t Sumner your roommate?”
“My problem with women,” William intercepts, owning this without an ounce of shame.
“Uh, right,” I say less confidently.
“You,” Analiese says, giving him a long once-over, “struggle with dating?”
Inessa and Sabine look at me, as if I can make sense of this. I can’t. Because I see exactly what they see. A tall, gentlemanly, and exceptionally good-looking guy whose accent does nothing to make him less attractive.
“Very much so,” William emphasizes. “Which is why Delaney has allowed me to escort her to the gala.”
“Delaney”—Sabine nudges me with her hip—“that is so cute.”
Analiese only stares at him. “Where did you say you were from again?”
“Rural England,” I reply, right as William says, “London.”
We look at each other, panicked.
“Home is a small town in England, but I was in London for a bit before I came here,” William insists.
Analiese makes a humming sound, but luckily, we’re saved by the cashier motioning for us. After she takes our order, William produces two twenties and insists on paying for everyone.
I try very hard not to focus on the way the gesture warms me from the inside out.
We find a table outside and grab extra chairs so everyone fits, metal scraping along the sidewalk as we tuck in.
I ask Sabine about her birthday because I know it was back in August, and she tells us about Paris and how her dad had surprised her by flying Inessa out.
They’d gone to the top of the Eiffel Tower while her dad hung out below, greeting them with warm chocolate crepes when they reached the bottom.
My gaze drops to my dad’s ring. I twist it out of habit, the pads of my fingers tracing the detailed grooves of stars.
A tender place in my heart squeezes. I don’t know when I’ll be able to outrun the memories I’ll never make.
The calls I won’t receive, a voice I once knew no longer on the other end of the line.
Loss haunts the hollow cave in my chest. Even when I think I feel full, the emptiness is still there.
“—and I turn eighteen on Halloween, so please take this as your official invitation to celebrate me,” Inessa’s saying, waggling her eyebrows. “Your spookiest queen.”
“Halloween?” William repeats.
“I forgot you don’t really do it up over there,” Sabine cuts in, and I’m relieved for the excuse. “But you’re in the States now, so you have to. Costumes mandatory.”
“But it cannot be basic,” Inessa says. “Creativity is required. That can be your gift to me, Enzo.”
I cut my gaze to Analiese and wish I hadn’t. Her focus is trained on William, and her heavy observant silence tells me all I need to know.
Inessa insists she has something urgent to do, so the rest of us take a lap around Main Street. William buys a nice fleece-lined jacket from a quaint boutique, which he pulls on as we head back to the school.
“You didn’t have to buy the croissants,” I say as I fall into step with him.
“It was my pleasure.” He looks down at me. “And besides, I’ve come across work.”
He’d mentioned a stipend before, but a job? What could he possibly be doing? I desperately want to ask multiple follow-up questions, but not with Analiese in earshot.
Once we’ve scanned back into campus, Analiese gives me a hug and explains she’s headed to the library for a bit. William peels off toward Segner, and when he’s out of sight, Sabine clasps my forearm.
“Okay,” she says, excitement thrumming through her. “Follow me.”
I have to sprint after her as she winds through the commons and up the stairs, where Inessa and a few other senior girls on our floor are huddled together. When they spot us, they hoist the brass trophy in the air.
I gasp. We’ve spent the better part of a month searching for our next win. We checked everywhere. I’d even tried to track Sumner’s movements, wondering if a casual flick of an eye would give it away.
“Hidden in an empty book, those sly weasels,” Inessa announces. “We had to distract a few people, but Ingrid’s the one who nabbed it.”
Ingrid, senior captain of the lacrosse team, beams as she places it into my hands. “You should do the honors of hiding it this time.”
I curl my hands around the angled base of the trophy. I’m flattered they thought to do this. A fiery thrill of competitiveness zips up my spine as I rack my brain for ideas.
“We should all agree on a spot,” I say. “Somewhere difficult.”
We decide to stuff it in a cereal box above the fridge in the kitchenette. When we’re done, my phone chimes with an incoming voice note from Mads, who belts out an extremely dramatic but pitch-perfect happy birthday song. When I try to call her, it goes to voicemail.
“She stepped out with some friends,” my mom explains when I phone her from my room. “I’ve found it’s good for her to get out and socialize.”
She asks how my birthday has been, and I don’t have to lie when I say it’s better than I expected.
But that changes later in the evening when my cramps start.
The ache leaves me lightheaded, so I navigate to my bed and focus on breathing.
I try hugging my heating pad on the highest setting.
I try ibuprofen washed down with large gulps of water.
I try distracting myself by binging my favorite early-2000s soapy teen drama.
And when my period actually starts at one in the morning, it takes all my energy to make it to the communal bathroom.
The cramps don’t subside. I can’t sleep. I stream one more episode before rolling over to check social media and then, because I’ve exhausted checking everything else, my email.
I don’t expect to find anything new. Maybe a bulletin notice I missed from Mrs. Vidar-Tett highlighting a few community service opportunities. What I do not anticipate is my dad’s name to appear at the top of my inbox.
The night steals my breath. For half a second, my focus isn’t on the searing pain in my stomach. This must be a mistake. Spam—something reasonable. But there it is: Daniel Carmichael. Time-stamped October twelfth of this year.
Heart pounding, I tap to open it.
My dearest Delaney,
Happy eighteenth birthday. I wonder if this email might come as a surprise, though admittedly it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.
Something I hope to give you even if I’m no longer there to pass along these words in person.
Scheduling this seems like the best chance I have, a guarantee that part of me can still be with you, even in a small capacity, on this momentous occasion.
Eighteen. Wow.
Do you remember when you were just twelve years old, sprawled out on the carpet in the living room, and you’d asked if the universe could hold memories?
You’d been consumed by this book about the galaxy, so quiet except for the occasional flip of the page.
You always ask questions that astound me, Delaney.
But this one had me stumped. Because you know what I say.
There’s so much we don’t know about the universe.
It’s ever-expanding, as are our minds. And yet, nothing feels impossible.
I’d like to believe the universe holds memory in the way it knows how.
Pulses, waves, gravitational forces. Energy.
Every star it’s lost, every new one gained.
There is something beautifully poetic and powerful in how we remember.
What a gift it is to have cherished, to have formed those memories.
Learning, observing, navigating this planet in our own original way.
Delaney, I hope you know I’ve treasured every memory we made together. Even when it’s my time to descend onward and outward into the depths of the universe, know that I go carrying the greatest gift of a lifetime. This family, and you, my bright observer, are all I ever wanted.
Happiest birthday, sweet.
All my love,
Dad