Chapter 8 #2
His silence made me think of last night’s party.
Playing volleyball on Griff’s shoulders in the Sound.
Griff confiding that he abstained from candy because he’d had a Halloween choking incident as a little kid.
And, okay—wait, did we do karaoke together?
I vaguely recalled coercing him into a song.
I also thought of Ellie’s words earlier: He and Libby officially called it quits.
Something is going to shift, I told myself. Something is going to shift between us.
“Right,” Henry finally said. “You need help.” He gave me a look. “Griff might be flattered that you’re asking for his.”
I opened my mouth, but Griff’s voice rang out before I could speak. “Strawberry lemonade for you, Chen?”
I laughed. Last year Griff had been the one who spilled Henry’s undying love for fruity drinks. “The guy literally drank nothing but Capri-Sun in elementary school,” he told me. “He once dropped his Mountain Cooler in the hallway, and I accidentally stepped on it—”
“Thanks, Keeler!” Henry said, and when we reached the front of the line, he whipped out his punch card first.
“Dammit,” I muttered, but ordered my number 8: Cracked Pepper Mill turkey with Swiss cheese, coleslaw, and Russian dressing on toasted rye. Henry also ordered potato salad and chips for our respective sides. I liked some crunch with my sandwich.
“So, what is it?” Henry asked while we waited near the pickup window for our orders. “What’d you do? Was it before or after I left this morning?”
“Before…” I said slowly, then shook my head. “Let’s talk about it after we eat, okay?”
Henry’s brows furrowed in concern, but in tip-top procrastinator fashion, I ignored him. I needed to pretend everything was all right just a little longer.
Griff had somehow snagged a coveted high-top table, and I resisted the urge to smooth down his hair. “This is giving me life,” he groaned after taking a massive bite of his sandwich. “Seriously the best hangover food.”
“Oh, are you hungover?” I quipped.
Griff gave me a look. “I can hold my beer, but those Jell-O shots were lethal.”
Henry nodded thoughtfully. “You didn’t agree to karaoke until you’d done three.”
The three of us laughed, then gave lunch our full and undivided attention. It wasn’t until I’d finished the last of my potato chips that Griff said: “So what’s next?”
I demurely licked salt and vinegar from my fingertips. “Excuse me?”
“What’s next?” Griff emphasized with a gleam in his eye. “First you dyed your hair, then you threw last night’s rager—”
“It was thirteen people,” Henry cut in. “I was under the impression attendance had to be at least fifty for a rager, no?”
“Well, yeah, whatever.” Griff waved a hand. “The point is”—he exhaled an exaggerated breath—“what is Audrey Elizabeth Barbour going to do next?”
“Elaine,” Henry said as Griff smiled and wordlessly offered me a bite of his chocolate chip cookie. “It’s Audrey Elaine.”
I broke off a chunk of cookie, my pulse picking up. I didn’t want to say I don’t know, but I truly didn’t know. I mean, I’d already thrown a party (if not a rager). What else was there to do when your parents were gone?
Plus, James was coming tomorrow. He was far from a chaperone, but still. I wouldn’t be playing “home alone” anymore.
Not to mention, it was hard to see past my current problem.
“I’m not sure,” I told Griff for fear of floundering. “I need to ruminate.”
“Totally,” he said. “Although I’ve got some ideas…”
“Ooh, I’m intrigued.” I forced a smile, slipping off my stool and gesturing to the cobwebbed counter. “Who wants another cookie?”
Henry shot to his feet. “I’ll get them!”
“Forget it,” I told him. “Despite your motivation being less than altruistic, you paid for my sandwich.”
I didn’t give him a beat to argue.
“I’m sorry,” Sandwitch’s cashier said after I grabbed the cookies and absentmindedly inserted my debit card. Sandwitch still hadn’t entered the age of the tap feature. “It’s been declined.”
“Can we try again?” I asked.
She nodded, but the second time I inserted my card, the PIN pad flashed declined in my face.
No, I thought, heart hammering. No, no, no—no!
Had I also drained my bank account? In addition to Expect the Unexpected?
“Well, that’s weird!” I chirped, trying to keep my composure. “Let me get my other card…”
My American Express passed with flying colors.
“Everything okay?” Henry asked when I returned to the table.
“Less so with each passing second,” I mumbled, unlocking my phone and swiping to the Wells Fargo app. My heart hammered as I FaceIDed into my bank account, only to see…
The exact same balance as yesterday.
I let out a deep breath. “Phew.”
“Phew what?” Griff asked amusedly.
“Nothing.” I locked my phone. “My debit card was declined twice, but the chip must be dirty or something.” I grimaced, knowing I couldn’t stall any longer.
“It’s okay,” Henry said gently. “You can tell us.”
“Tell us what?” Griff asked, glancing between Henry and me.
I gritted my teeth and explained. Blood pumped through my ears the entire time, and I was grateful when Henry took my hand and squeezed it.
I felt like I wasn’t so alone.
“Whoa, Audrey,” Griff said afterward, a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”
Henry was quiet. He didn’t let go of my hand, but he was silent.
“I mean, good for you.” Griff beamed. “This fellowship is a huge deal, and you desperately needed the money for it. That money was meant to be used—” He dropped off, the bell above Sandwitch’s door chiming. “Hey, Cristina!” He raised an arm in a wave. “You feeling better?”
Throat thickening, I turned to Henry once Griff walked away.
His eyes looked a little glassy. “I shouldn’t have left you,” he whispered, gripping my fingers tightly.
“I was right behind you when we called it a night—I wanted to make sure you got to sleep okay—but then my stomach suddenly revolted and I took a detour to purge Jell-O and vodka from my system…” He winced. “God, I’m so sorry, Audrey.”
It’s not your fault, I wanted to say. None of this is your fault.
But it was hitting me now, really hitting me. “How…” I began, fighting tears.
“How am I going to…” I hunted for the right word. “Fix this?”
And how long until my parents checked the balance? I had no idea how often they monitored that account, but I couldn’t have much time, right? What if something unexpected happened in France?
“We can figure this out,” Henry said, staying calm. “Blue Ridge’s deposit didn’t clean you out. You still have some savings, and we can chip away bit by bit. There’s about five hundred in Golightly Glass’s PayPal and some money in Venmo.”
I nodded quickly, trying to keep it together, but this was ten thousand dollars.
How had I not crumpled to the floor yet?
“Henry…” My voice wavered.
“What’d I miss?” Griff hopped back up on his stool and took a sip of soda. “Are you gonna get it all back or what?”
“Huh?” My eyebrows knitted. Get it all back?
He must’ve been talking about recouping the money. Was there a way to get it all back? There had to be, right? Something more dignified than calling Blue Ridge and begging for them to cancel the transaction. They didn’t even need to return my deposit. Just the tuition.
Or did they? I shifted in my seat. Blue Ridge was paid for, paid for entirely. Besides my parents and a plane ticket, there was nothing stopping me now from achieving my dream.
Henry nodded, in actual agreement with Griff. “We should brainstorm a plan to reimburse your parents,” he told me. “It’s—”
“Totally doable,” Griff said. “You’ve always been all about the hustle, Audrey.”
The hustle.
Griff was right. If there was ever a time to hustle, it was now.
“By doing what?” I asked. “Even if Golightly Glass has a flash sale, it won’t be enough, and it’s not like I’ll have a whole summer of Constellation paychecks.”
After Blue Ridge accepted me, I’d prematurely told Ellie’s mom that I wouldn’t be around after June. The fellowship started in July, and I had been so confident that I’d somehow make it to North Carolina.
“Well,” Henry said, “when your parents shook their heads at Blue Ridge on Friday, the first avenue you brainstormed was robbing the Gardner.”
At that, I miraculously found it in myself to laugh.
I remembered making that joke while we’d wandered Bedtime Stories on our date.
Henry and I had watched Netflix’s documentary about the 1990 Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum heist so many times, and with enough enthusiasm and hope that we might crack the case.
“Okay, no,” I said. “I’m not robbing the Gardner. ”
“You don’t have to,” he replied. “Blue Ridge doesn’t cost Rembrandt money.”
But Rembrandt money included ten thousand dollars!
“Well, what do you suggest?” I asked dryly. “A lemonade stand?”
“No, a yard sale,” he parried, annoyed I wasn’t taking reimbursement seriously.
“A car wash,” I countered.
“Online poker.”
“Momfluencer.”
“You don’t have any kids.”
“Yet.”
“I’ve got it!” Griff exclaimed.
Henry looked doubtful. “Uber driver?”
“No.” Griff shook his head. “But close.”
“DoorDash?” I asked cautiously.
“Nope,” he answered, then winked. “I know how you feel about food in your car.”
It was true. Unless it was my food or Constellation leftovers, I wasn’t a big fan of food in Brigitta. Ellie must’ve told him about the one time she spontaneously ordered Indian for a study session and asked me for a ride.
“Everyone does,” Henry said, irritated. “Now cut to the chase.”
I swallowed a dig about his use of the word chase.
Meanwhile, Griff could barely contain his excitement. “Airbnb!”
The suspense that I hadn’t realized was building inside me suddenly deflated. “Oh, yeah,” I said without much effort. “That’d be funny.”
“Funny?” Griff gave me a look. “Audrey, come on! It’s genius.”
“Mmm, DoorDash sounds more promising,” Henry said. “If you drive with your windows down, the smell won’t—”
“All right,” I cut him off, the bit now stale.