Chapter Four
Four
JAMIE AND I SIT AT opposite ends of the sectional, not speaking. As it turns out, we can’t have a “family meeting” for at least another hour because Andres is at work.
In the meantime, Jamie and I have been sequestered in the living room.
We are not allowed to leave this couch, touch our phones, or speak in elevated tones to each other.
Mikey and Felicity are monitoring us closely from a few feet away in the small kitchen, where they’re making a snack.
They even confiscated our phones, though I think that was to stop Jamie from attempting to reach my brother again.
To keep us busy, they’ve put on SpongeBob, which, according to Mikey, will help soothe our minds.
We are, essentially, in time-out.
“What was the code you lost?” I ask after a while, risking a glance at Jamie. He’s relaxed now, his gaze fixed on the TV.
At the sound of my voice, his jaw tenses again. “None of your business.”
“You know, if you tell me, I can help you rewrite it.”
At that, he lets out a quiet laugh. “Right. Sure.”
“I’m serious. I got into the APM. I know how to write code.
” I don’t need to explain the APM to him; he was in it last summer.
The Accelerated Pre-Major program is designed to assess the skills of incoming freshmen, and if we do well, it can earn us up to a full semester’s worth of credits in the computer science major.
It’s an AP class on steroids. You have to test in, and it’s very competitive.
Even though Mom and Victor were sure I was a shoo-in if even Jamie landed the APM last year, Mom still cried when I got the acceptance email.
“I don’t need your help.” He crosses his arms, sulky.
I glance toward the kitchen, making sure Felicity and Mikey are distracted before I turn back to Jamie and whisper, “You know, I shouldn’t be surprised you aren’t smart enough to use this to your advantage, but you never cease to amaze me, Jamie.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You have a computer science major in the APM willing to do just about anything for your silence.” I shift closer, pulling a knee onto the couch between us. “Please resist your natural urge to be an idiot out of spite. You have nothing to gain from telling my brother.”
“A lot to lose by not telling him, though,” Jamie replies. “You can’t imagine how he’d react if he found out? And you call me an idiot?”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut as Felicity and Mikey come back into the room.
“I made guac!” Mikey announces, dropping the bowl on the table.
Jamie stares at the bowl, then Mikey. “With my avocados?”
She beams at him. “You can have my banana bread, or I can send you the money for them. But no one can really fight while eating guac, Jamie. You know that.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll take the banana bread.”
“Damn, I was hoping you’d take the money.” Mikey sighs, tearing open a bag of tortilla chips. “Oh well.”
“Andres should be here soon,” Felicity says, checking her phone.
By the time he arrives, coming through the door in a muscle shirt and joggers, Felicity has ruled that Jamie and I can’t speak to each other at all (the result of two whispered arguments erupting as we waited, proving we are perfectly capable of doing damage with our inside voices).
We’ve also crushed three episodes of SpongeBob, and the guac is gone.
I am no more soothed now than I was when all this started.
“Sorry I’m late,” Andres says, dropping a backpack by the door and kicking off his sneakers. He groans when he sees the empty bowl on the table. “You made guac and didn’t save me any?”
I wipe my hands on my shorts and stand. “Hi, I’m Blair. Your new roommate.” I shoot Jamie a severe look, daring him to protest. “Depending on Jamie, of course.”
“Hey, I’m not the villain here,” Jamie says.
Andres pops a chip in his mouth as he drops onto the couch. “I clearly missed something. Do you two know each other?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I say.
“We’ve learned a very valuable lesson about disclosing the names of all roommates when considering a potential addition,” says Mikey.
“Oh. Oh,” Andres says, looking delighted as he crunches a handful of tortilla chips. “You’re that Blair.”
I glare at Jamie. “What are you telling people about me?”
Mikey gasps. “Did you two date?”
“Oh my god, him? Ew, I would never.”
“Ew?” Jamie repeats, jerking his head around to look at me. “Did you seriously just ew me?”
I ignore him, putting a hand on my chest as I look from Andres to Mikey and Felicity. “I watched him go through puberty, okay? Trust me, I’ve seen all I needed to see.”
Felicity pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, let’s get this over with. I’ve gotta get ready for work. Jamie, what’s the issue?”
“I don’t have an issue,” he says, all innocence. “I was just going to tell her brother she’s here. Why would that be a problem, Blair?”
“My parents don’t… exactly… know I’m living here,” I say to the others, keeping my glare on Jamie. I can feel my place here slipping through my fingers, and I tense in anticipation of everyone taking his side.
“Who cosigned your lease for you?” Felicity asks, brow furrowed in confusion.
Damn. I glance at Jamie, and the corner of his mouth hitches up as he huffs out a short laugh and says, “No one.”
Felicity looks to me for an answer, but Jamie beats me to it.
“She forged it. Haven’t you learned enough about her just in this conversation? She lies, Liss.”
It’s the echo of a thousand fights with Sawyer. My brother may as well be in the room with us right now.
“Her situation didn’t change,” Jamie continues. “She knew she was coming this summer. She’s in the APM! She knew months ago.”
My face burns as their attention swings back to me. Andres whistles, crunching on another chip. “Draaamaaa,” he singsongs.
“My situation did change,” I try meekly. “It wasn’t the exact situation I told you, but my housing… fell through.”
“Why not just say that?” Felicity asks. “That’s reasonable.”
“I thought you wouldn’t want me if you knew someone else had already dropped me.”
Jamie’s gaze softens slightly, and I bristle. I do not need Jamie Atwater feeling bad for me.
“Yeah, we don’t really care about any of that,” Felicity says. “Your check’s as good as the next person’s, and we’re pretty desperate.” She turns to Jamie. “You know that better than anyone. We need the rent. We can’t afford not to have her.”
“Her parents will pay it.”
“If her parents tell the office the lease is forged, we’re fucked,” Felicity replies with a laugh. “And you’re so busy with your app, you barely leave your room anyway. You’ll never know she’s here.”
“What app?” I ask Felicity, hoping she’ll tell me what Jamie refuses to.
“None of your business,” Jamie says loudly, shooting me an annoyed look. Then he turns back to the others. “I can’t lie to my best friend about her living here.”
“I’m not asking you to lie!” I shrink a little under his sharp gaze, lowering my voice. “I’m just asking you not to tell him.”
“Okay, so we’ll need to examine your definition of lying, I guess,” Jamie says. “Morally speaking, I think you’ve got a glitch there.”
I bare my teeth, a distant relative of a smile. “Can I speak to you in private, please? For one second?”
“No.”
“Jamie.”
He sighs. “Fine.” He gets to his feet, motioning me toward his room. I’m nearly there when he sidesteps into the bathroom, flipping on the light. I freeze, disoriented by the sudden change in direction, then stumble after him.
“Right, okay,” I say as he shuts the door behind us. I glance around at the floor, grimacing slightly. It could definitely use a good steam clean. “Um, well, I would get on my knees, but I’m not exactly confident in the cleanliness of this floor, if I’m being entirely honest.”
“Get on your knees? What exactly are you about to offer?”
“Ew, Jamie!” My head snaps up, and I smack him in the chest.
“You’re going to ‘ew’ me again? Twice in one day?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter! I was going to beg!”
“For what?”
“For you to let me help you with whatever app you’re making in exchange for not telling my brother I’m living here!” I whisper-yell. “God!”
“I already said no.”
“Just think about it, please. Building an app takes time. Tell me what you’re doing, and you can test me.
If I can’t do your work from today in the same amount of time, if I’m really terrible, if I have no value to you at all, then you can tell Sawyer.
I’ll deal with whatever happens then, and I’ll make sure the rent gets paid. I swear.”
He glances away, mouth turned down in consideration. I’ve hooked him. Now I just have to reel him in.
“But if I pass your test”—I lean into his line of sight, forcing him to look me in the eye—“then you let me stay. For the rest of the summer, the work you don’t want to do—the busywork that has you chained to your desk for hours—I’ll handle it.
And in August, I’ll find someone to sublet my room, and I’ll move out for fall semester.
Sawyer never has to know I was here. It’s only a few months. Jamie, please.”
He hesitates, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“Give me a chance,” I whisper.
After a moment, he asks, “You really think you can do it?” He searches my face. “You can help me build an app?”
“I built one last year for my capstone project.” Sure, that was with a team of five, but how hard can it be?
“And when the APM gets too busy, and you don’t have time anymore?”
“I’ll make time.”
He watches me, assessing. I’ve never given it much thought, but now I wonder if Jamie recognizes my microexpressions as well as I recognize his.
If he can read the truth from my face, the way I can tell when he’s on the verge of a rare smile.
If nearly a decade of passing each other in orbit means we’ve both been collecting knowledge without realizing.