Chapter Thirty-Two
Lucas disappears—no official statement is made by the administration, but everybody knows he’s been expelled. His roommate, a lanky boy from New Jersey named Chris, throws a party to celebrate and promptly gets shut down by HellomynameisBrenda.
A week before our project is due I receive this email from the College Board reminding me of my upcoming SAT.
It’s scheduled for the Saturday of final presentations.
Oof. I completely forgot I signed up for that, way back in June when Aisha’s mom got on my case about it.
I hate it when Past Char makes decisions for Future Char. The decisions are often bad.
“Should I even bother taking the August SAT?” I ask Khoi. “I haven’t studied at all. I could just take it in October.”
He taps his chin. “If you’re already signed up, you might as well?”
“But it’s the day of final presentations.”
“We can ask for a presentation slot after your exam.”
“What if it jeopardizes our chances at winning?” I don’t know if I can prepare for both the SAT and our presentation on the same day. Multitasking is such a struggle. Like, I can barely walk and text at the same time.
“Alpha Fellows is just one summer,” he says. “College is the next four years of your life.” He smiles. “Besides, I thought we were going to apply to MIT early? Your October test scores might not arrive in time for the November deadline.”
“Thought you were doing Harvard early,” I say.
“No, I said that to appease the Chadhas. I want to apply to MIT. Better engineering program.” He shrugs. “I mean, if you want to go to Harvard, that’s cool too. They’re both in Cambridge. We could still be together.”
“Khoi, what are you on about?”
We haven’t even discussed what’s happening to us once summer’s over. Why is he out here acting like we’re going to attend college together? As if I’m even going to get into any of these universities he’s name-dropping.
He looks confused. “I guess I assumed you wanted to go here, since you’re doing a summer program at MIT. My bad.” Then he nods like he gets it. “Ohhhh. You’re a West Coast, Best Coast believer. You’re thinking Stanford?”
“No!” The exclamation comes out harsher than I mean it to. He flinches. “I don’t know what I’m doing for college apps.”
“But it’s already August,” he says. “Did you ask teachers for rec letters yet? Have you signed up for the Common App portal?”
His questions make me feel like I’m wearing an itchy sweater. “No.”
“Do you need help?”
“Khoi, chill. This is my business. I’ll figure it out myself.”
“But it’s my business too!”
“How is it your business?” I snap.
His eyes widen. “I want to spend our college years together,” he says softly. “Don’t you want the same thing, Char?”
Something inside of me unravels. He wants to spend our college years together. He wants to be with me for real. He looks at me and sees something more than a fling. He sees his future.
For a second I indulge the fantasy of enrolling here with Khoi.
Attending lectures together, completing problem sets side by side.
Sneaking onto the famous MIT dome. Making out in our dorm rooms when our roommates are away, stealing kisses in the library stacks.
Existing together in seasons besides summer: crashing the Harvard-Yale football game, carving pumpkins, sipping hot chocolate along a frozen Charles River, studying on the grass of Killian Court during the first searingly gorgeous day of spring.
And for a split second, there’s so much yearning I think it might flood my heart.
But I can’t want any of this. If I want it, it’ll hurt so much more later.
I let the daydream pop like a rainbow soap bubble.
“We can talk about this after we submit,” I say. “For now, let’s just focus on Hello World.”
Several days later Edvin Nilsen slides into my inbox to say he’s back in town. He wants to link up before the final deadline.
This time, I tell Khoi about the meeting beforehand. He does this passive-aggressive side-eye, but doesn’t say anything, so whatever. It’s about the small wins.
It’s a weekday, and the Nexus office is bustling with activity. Everyone is on edge, frenetic, like they drank too much coffee. As I pass by the desks, I hear someone say, “Screw this defense contract.” There’s that phrase again. Defense contract. Khoi had mentioned it too.
What even is a defense contract? Like, Nexus is working for the military or whatever? I guess the military has hella data to analyze.
Edvin Nilsen greets me in the same conference room as last time. In the corner, Janelle taps away at a tablet.
He’s in a muscle tee and gym shorts, as if he just finished a jog along the harbor. I guess someone like Edvin never has to stress about looking unprofessional. Meanwhile, Janelle is in a crisp navy blue pantsuit. She’s giving Hillary Clinton.
“I heard about what happened with Stella Zhou and Lucas van den Berg,” he says. “Seems like you were involved?”
I blink, surprised that he knows or cares. Maybe Edvin is more involved with the day-to-day of Alpha Fellows than I thought. “Yeah.”
“It was kind of you to help your friend out,” Edvin says. Stella isn’t exactly my friend, but I don’t correct him. “But there are two weeks left in the summer. You gotta focus on your own project. No distractions.”
Makes sense. “So probably I shouldn’t take the SAT in August?”
“What?”
“I signed up for it, but I haven’t studied yet, and…” I stop talking because he’s shaking his head adamantly.
“What’s the point? That stuff is for rule followers, pencil pushers. Bo-ring. Why do you need to fill in a Scantron to prove that you’re smart? You already know you’re smart.”
“I want to go to college?” A four-year college. With Khoi, even.
“College is useless. Look at Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs. All dropouts.”
I don’t even bother pointing out that they were also all dudes. If I want to be taken seriously, I need the credentials.
“What are you going to do in college, Char? Waste time in gen eds and intro courses that have nothing to do with building something real? Get on your knees for some shitfaced frat boy?” When I flinch, he laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Kidding, kidding. But my point is, you’re too good for the normie path. ”
Hearing him say that is like drinking champagne. Or what I imagine drinking champagne is like. There’s a warm glow in my chest. “Thanks, Edvin.”
“But you gotta focus,” he repeats. “Don’t let anything distract you. None of that bullshit.” And his blue eyes are so intense. It’s almost like he knows about Khoi and me.
That evening, Khoi and I go up to my room after dinner as usual.
The minute the door slams shut, he kisses me hard and everything in me sharpens with desire.
We stumble backward and fall into my bed.
He smothers my body with his. But when he fumbles for the hem of my shirt, Edvin Nilsen’s dry-gravel voice rings in my head. Total mood killer.
I push Khoi off me.
He caresses my face. His touch is gentle. “Char, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”
“No. No, you’re perfect. More than perfect.” I look away. “It’s not you. I don’t… want to get distracted.”
He frowns. “Am I a distraction?”
“Not you, but this is.” If I’m down bad whenever I’m around Khoi, I’m clearly not focusing on Hello World. “Maybe… maybe we should stop doing this. At least for now. I want to full-send our project.”
His shoulders stiffen. “Are you dumping me?”
I straighten up. “No! No. I just don’t want to spend too much time fooling around. That’s what Edvin said.”
“Edvin Nilsen told you to stop fooling around with me?” he asks slowly.
My cheeks burn. “Well, no, obviously not like that, but he said I should focus on winning.”
“Char, why are you meeting with him anyway?”
“He’s mentoring me!”
Khoi raises an eyebrow. Ugh, I’m so jealous that he can do that. “Haven’t you met him, like, twice? Some mentor.”
“He’s busy. And didn’t he help with the project idea? It’s really nice of him to give advice when he’s, you know, Edvin Nilsen and I’m some stupid teenager.”
“Don’t call yourself stupid,” he says. “And Edvin gives me bad vibes.”
I tip my palms up. “I don’t get why you don’t trust Edvin. He hasn’t been sus at all.” Obviously I’ve heard the horror stories of rich, powerful tech bros taking advantage of younger girls. Who hasn’t?
But with Edvin, it hasn’t been like that. Not even close. Every time we meet, his assistant Janelle is there.
Khoi studies my face. It looks like he’s on the verge of saying something. But when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is, “If he’s a good guy, then I’m happy for you.”