Chapter Seven #2
“Oh, Blair, I’m so happy to hear you had a great first day,” Mom gushes as I deboard the shuttle into the blistering hot sunshine and relentless Florida humidity.
I managed to nab a seat when it was standing room only, which was lucky for everyone, since I’m still sweaty and frazzled from the APM.
I don’t want to know what would’ve happened if I’d had to lift my arm to hold one of the ceiling handles.
I’d have probably knocked myself and everyone in a five-foot radius unconscious.
I want to make it clear that I didn’t go into this phone call planning to lie to my mom about my first day.
But as soon as I heard her hopeful voice on the other end of the line, I knew I couldn’t risk it.
At best, I’d end up with a twelve-point plan of attack in my inbox, including a daily schedule, and at worst, she’d decide I need to make more time for the APM by quitting Stone & Spiral before it starts.
“Yeah, everyone was really nice,” I say as I speedwalk to the shade of my building’s breezeway. “I have a good feeling.”
I patently do not have a good feeling. I have the kind of ominous sensation that usually kicks off a Final Destination movie.
“That is so great!” Mom gushes. I hear the whir of her treadmill in the background. “I love that you’re meeting people who are on your level, you know?”
I wince. That’s a jab at Starr and Leni, and no matter what they’ve done to me, I still feel a jolt of defensiveness that I have to resist. I don’t know if Starr and Leni deserve that from me anymore.
“Yeah, I’m relieved it went so well. I plan to keep studying, though, and see where I can improve.
I have an assignment due at the end of the week, so I’ll work on that for a while, then maybe do some solo sprints.
They have material for us to use in the APM”—I stop short as I open the door to let myself into the apartment and it bangs straight into something on the other side—“portal.”
Through the crack, I hear the high, reedy sound of an instrument being played, which transports me straight back to when Sawyer had to learn the recorder in middle school. He used to go around the house trying to play it with his nose. This sounds a bit like that.
“In fact, I should go get started now,” I say quickly. “I’ll talk to you later!”
“Oh, okay. Well, bye—”
I hang up, then stick my head in the crack in the door. On the other side, the entryway is filled with plants, some nearly touching the ceiling, the greenery thick as a rainforest.
“Hello?” I shove my shoulder through the gap and use my foot to nudge aside the massive planter blocking the entrance. A gnat buzzes by my ear.
“Hey! Sorry about the plants!” Felicity says from the other side of the jungle, her voice muffled by layers upon layers of leaves.
Here is what I know about Felicity so far after a few days of living with her: she’s going into her sophomore year as a plant sciences major and works part-time at a greenhouse and part-part-time as The Plant Doctor.
Her and Mikey’s room is filled, wall to wall, with half-dead houseplants people have paid her to revive, which is why the state of the entryway, while surprising, is not entirely cause for alarm.
“Um, no problem, but how do I get through?”
She pushes some leaves apart, poking her head in. “Can you go around to the patio and come in the sliding door?”
I stare at her. “Uh. Sure.”
I back out of the entryway and head around the side of the building to our patio, where Felicity meets me, sliding open the glass door.
“What’s that sound?” I ask, peering past her. The music is louder here, and possibly off-key? Not that I know what this instrument would sound like on key.
“Oh, that?” Felicity chuckles, reaching out a hand to help me over the low patio rail. “Mikey’s taken up the tin whistle.”
“The what?”
“Hi, Bee!” Mikey says as I come into the apartment, tin whistle still poised at her lips.
It does, in fact, look like a metal version of a recorder.
Behind her, Andres sits at the kitchen table, using his fork to tap a light beat against his plate.
“What do you think? Is it giving sea shanty or fairy forest? I’m hoping sea shanty, because the band’s working on this new song, and I was thinking we could go full pirates for our stage outfits.
Which, like, Denny thought I meant the Pittsburgh Pirates and was trying to buy a jersey off eBay? But obviously I meant sea pirates.”
“Ah. This is for the band.”
“Yeah!” Her breath whistles through the instrument. “Uncommon instruments are our thing. It’s a real experimental sound.”
Felicity smiles like Mikey is the cutest thing she’s ever seen.
“And what are you doing?” I ask Andres, nodding at his fork.
“Playing percussion,” he replies.
“Of course.” I clear my throat, glancing toward the front of the apartment while the two of them resume their… music. “So do you normally work with that many plants at once?”
Felicity follows my gaze. “No, this restaurant closed for renovations, and all their plants started dying—not enough sun, irregular watering. At least one of them has gnats. It’d cost them way more to replace everything, so they asked me to give it a shot.”
“What happens if you can’t save them?” I peer at the wilting, half-dead plants at the front of the apartment.
“I only get paid if I save them.” She puts her hands together like a prayer. “But I’ve never failed yet, so I’m not worried.”
“Liss never worries about anything.” A door shuts behind me, and I turn as Jamie comes out of his bedroom, dressed in the green polo shirt and black pants he wears for his job at the grocery store down the street. He’s in the middle of threading his belt. “She’s achieved ataraxia.”
I make a note to google that later, since I would never tell Jamie that he knows a word I don’t.
He pauses mid-step, staring at the entryway, his hands freezing with his belt still half done.
“I’ll get those out of the way,” Felicity says.
He raises an eyebrow, finishing off his belt buckle.
“Today,” she says. “Can you just use the sliding door, please? Bee did it with no complaints.”
“Weird,” Jamie says, turning toward the patio. “Complaining normally comes so naturally to her.”
“Hey!” I protest.
Mikey stops playing, her words whistling through the instrument as she says, “Bee had a hard day! Be nice to her.”
“How do you know I had a hard day?”
“I can feel it from your aura.” She circles the tin whistle at me. “It’s all dark and murky like a swamp.”
Felicity snorts. “And you’ve got a groove like the Mariana Trench between your eyes right now.”
I slap a hand over my forehead and try to relax my face. “Shut up. Are you serious?”
“She always has that,” says Jamie. “Permanent pissed-off face.”
“I do not!”
Jamie shrugs, and I catch the edge of a smirk as he turns away. “First class didn’t go well?” He shoots me a raised brow over his shoulder as he slides the door open and steps outside. I must look sick, because he pauses. “Oh. Did it really not go well?”
I guess I’m flattered that he seems genuinely surprised. “What’s your best advice for module one?”
“Pray.”
I follow him. “Are you serious?”
He groans, head falling back. “I don’t know, Blair.” He sighs, lifting his head again. “It’s still Douse, right?”
I nod.
“Then I guess… do your sprints, but don’t bother skipping ahead.
Master the practice modules,” he says. “By the end of day one, they want to know who they should focus their efforts on, but screwing up your first assessment doesn’t really matter.
The grades are weighted, and the first assessment barely counts.
It’s more for the professor than you. Douse will try to rattle you, but focus on your speed typing—he cares more about you finishing than the work being right.
As long as you have something to go back and fix later, you’ll survive. ”
I’m already making notes in my phone. “Okay, that’s good. Everyone says module three is the hardest—”
“Blair,” Jamie says, and when I look up, he’s fixed me with a serious look. “Don’t skip ahead.”
“Right. Okay. Thank you.”
It’s his turn to look surprised now, probably at genuine gratitude from me. He turns away and easily hops the patio rail. “I emailed you, by the way.”
I pull out my phone and find his email, and scroll… and scroll… and scroll…
“When do you need this by?”
Jamie doesn’t answer, and when I look up, he’s paused on the other side of the patio, a frown on his face.
“Don’t tell me you want this tonight.”
“I’m behind schedule,” he replies. “And I have to work, so…”
I think of my first APM assignment, the practice sprints I wanted to do, the big “0% – DNF” stamped on my assessment today.
“This is a lot for one night, Jamie.”
His expression flattens. “Right. First day, and you’re already too busy?”
“Be serious. This is a ton of work!”
“I thought you said you’d make time, but I guess I misheard.” He pushes off the rail. “Never mind. I should’ve seen this coming. Honestly, it’s better we got it out of the way early. I won’t have to explain to Sawyer why it took me so long to tell him.”
“You know, this is starting to sound a lot like blackmail,” I say heatedly, crossing the patio.
“You came up with the deal, Blair. We could’ve been done with this two days ago, but you insisted—”
“And I’ll do it!” The words leave me in a frustrated snap, my hands fisting at my sides. “I’ll get it done tonight. I didn’t say I wouldn’t—I just said it’s an unreasonable amount of work. That doesn’t mean I can’t do it.”
He eyes me coolly. “You can email it to me when you’re done.”
“Great,” I reply with a big, false smile. “Anything else?”
He doesn’t answer and stalks off as I watch, willing him to trip on a rock and fall on his face. But I can’t even get this small win as he crosses the parking lot, climbs into his Jeep, and drives off.