Chapter Ten
I spend the rest of the day gathering my thoughts and choosing my words for my conversation with Ryan. Our connection is fragile. I hunt down Matt, get his class schedule, and plan to catch him after his next lecture. The next morning, I arrive at the lecture hall early and wait outside, my nerves on edge. Students start to trickle out, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the turmoil inside me. Finally, I see Ryan walking out, engrossed in a conversation with one of his friends. He spots me and his expression hardens, but he masks it with indifference.
He walks past me without a word, clearly hoping to avoid a scene. I fall into step beside him, determined to get answers. “Ryan, we need to talk.”
He looks at me, his face blank. “No, we really don’t.”
I don’t respond but I don’t leave, either, choosing to continue walking with him until his friend awkwardly starts walking in the other direction.
“What do you want, Hailey?” he asks, his voice tinged with annoyance. “I thought we already went over this.”
My resolve starts to wane, but I straighten my back and let out a harsh breath. “I looked you up.” Now, that makes me sound like a psycho. “I mean I looked up stuff about you. School and trading.” That was better but not exactly what I planned.
He rolls his eyes. “And? Hailey, why are you acting like I’m a heroin dealer?”
Great question. I definitely have an answer to that. In my bag. I can pull it out and throw it in his face, shove the folder against his chest proclaiming ‘Explain this!’ in triumph. “I’m not,” is what I lamely say. “I’m just asking if you or someone you know is doing things in a way that some people might think is wrong.” What a backbone of steel I have.
“No, Hailey,” he sounds so condescending. “Me and my friends are good little boys and girls. I’m not Gordon Gecko here. My dad used to read to me about the market, would let me pick stocks to buy, helped me buy my first stock after I graduated from high school. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“And your friends?”
He breathes out a laugh, rolling his head back and adjusting his backpack strap. “For the last time, no one is doing any insider trading. What, you think my friends and I have dads who work for Apple or Berkshire or Vanguard?”
I hug my arms around my waist, feeling stupid. “I just wanted to get to the truth. I have to do a good job on this.”
“Well, now you know.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He shakes his head. “I like you, Hailey, but this,” he moves his hand back and forth between us, “isn’t going to work. You’re creating drama where there isn’t any.”
“Wait-”
“Can’t wait to read your hard-hitting journalism about the finance students who…participate in the stock market. Groundbreaking.”
“I don’t want it to end like this,” I whisper, all of the bravado I brought to this conversation crumbling into dust.
He scoffs. “Bye, Nancy Drew.”
As I watch him disappear into the crowd, I realize the cost of my ambition. I wanted to be a good journalist, to uncover the truth, but in doing so, I’ve hurt someone I cared about. I don’t know if Ryan is telling the whole truth, but I know that I’ve lost his trust, and maybe even a chance at something more. Feeling the weight of my choices, I head back to my dorm, my heart heavy with the consequences of my actions. I have the information I need for my article, but I’ve lost something much more valuable in the process. As I sit down to write, I can’t help but wonder if it was all worth it.
My fingers cramp and my neck hurts from the way I’ve been holding my shoulders. When I look over at the clock, I realize I’ve spent the last two hours writing my article. I read over what I’ve written, and realize I’ve lost Ryan and an investigative piece all in the same afternoon. What I’ve produced is a fluff piece about unnamed students having the wherewithal to buy stock when they’re young. I gloss over the fact that they’re inexplicably good at something they’re virtually inexperienced at and allow the reader to draw their own conclusions. I start to wonder if it’ll even be published.
I’m still sitting at my computer when Kelsey walks in. She looks at me and immediately notices the distress on my face.
“Hailey? What happened?” she asks, pulling off her headphones and rushing over to me.
I get up from my desk and collapse onto my bed, the weight of today’s events crashing down on me. “I confronted Ryan again. It didn’t go well.”
Kelsey sits beside me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Oh no. Tell me everything.”
I recount the conversation with Ryan, my voice trembling with emotion. As I speak, Kelsey listens intently, her expression sympathetic. “I wish I had dropped this whole thing after I talked to Matt and Josh. I wish I’d just talked to Ryan first and let him tell me nothing was worth looking into. Now he’ll never speak to me again.”
Kelsey pulls me into a comforting hug. “You were just trying to do your job, Hailey. It’s not your fault. If Ryan can’t understand that, then maybe he wasn’t the right guy for you anyway.”
“I don’t know,” I say, sniffling. “I just feel so awful.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Kelsey assures me. “You did what you thought was right, and you’re going to be an amazing journalist. Don’t let this discourage you.”
Her words offer some comfort, and I feel a little better knowing she’s here for me. After a while, I manage to pull myself together. Over the next few days, I throw myself into my schoolwork, channeling my emotions into writing. I polish my article, ensuring it’s thorough and well-researched. When I finally turn it in to the editor, I feel a mix of relief and apprehension.
A week later, my article is published in the school newspaper. It’s titled “Trading Secrets: The Untold Story of Campus Traders.” Much to my surprise, my article goes viral and the response is overwhelming. My phone buzzes with messages from classmates I barely know, professors stopping me in class and around campus, even strangers congratulate me on the piece. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Despite the success, there’s a lingering sadness. It’s been two weeks since I last saw Ryan, and I haven’t heard a word from him. Each day, I hope to see him, to maybe have a chance to explain myself again, but he’s nowhere to be found. The excitement of my article’s success is dampened by his absence. I open up our text message thread at least once a day and think about messaging him but I stop myself when I replay our last conversation in my head.
One afternoon, as I’m leaving my creative writing class, my professor, Dr. Harris, stops me. “Hailey, I wanted to congratulate you on your article. It’s been the talk of the campus. Excellent work.”
“Thank you, Dr. Harris,” I say, managing a small smile.
“You’ve got a real talent,” he continues. “Keep pursuing it, and you’ll go far.”
His words mean a lot, but they don’t fill the void left by what I lost from writing that story. As I walk back to my dorm, I can’t help but wonder if Ryan’s read the article and what he thinks of it. I hope he understands why I did what I did, but the chances of us ever talking again seem slim to none. You’d never know we live on the same floor as I have yet to see even a glimpse of him in the hallway, the dining hall—anywhere.
Back in the dorm, Kelsey is waiting for me with a grin. “I saw your articles have gotten over a thousand shares online! You’re famous!”
I laugh, appreciating her enthusiasm. “It’s crazy. I don’t need to be famous though, I’m ok with hiding behind the curtain.”
“You deserve it, Hailey,” she says, giving me a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Kelsey,” I say, hugging her back. “I just wish things with Ryan were different.”
“Give it time,” she says gently. “If it’s meant to be, he’ll come around. And if not, you’re still an amazing person and there’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”
Her optimism helps, and I try to focus on the positives. My article’s success is a huge step forward in my writing. Working on the school newspaper and focusing on writing has made me think that this will be my major moving forward and I need to keep pushing ahead, even if my heart still aches for Ryan.
As the days pass, I immerse myself in new assignments and projects, trying to keep my mind off Ryan. But no matter how busy I get, I can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. I just hope that one day, Ryan and I can find a way to reconnect and maybe start over. For now, I have to keep moving forward, one step at a time.
Two more weeks pass, and life continues at its usual hectic pace. My articles’ success has brought new opportunities and responsibilities. I get to choose stories after the seniors and professors offer to help me submit my writing to different collegiate publications. It’s exciting to have so many people in my corner, but I still wish I could tell Ryan all of this at the end of the day.
One Friday afternoon, Kelsey and I decide to take a break from our busy schedules and grab lunch off-campus. We choose a cozy café downtown, a favorite spot for students. As we sit down with our sandwiches and Diet Cokes, Kelsey fills me in about her latest class projects and her plans for the weekend. While I’ve been nursing a broken heart, Kelsey has been flourishing in her classes and in her theater group. She landed a supporting role in the upcoming play and she’s been running lines late into the night with one of the guys from the play.
As she talks, I listen with half an ear, my mind wandering back to Ryan. I haven’t seen or heard from him in a month, and the distance feels insurmountable. I know that we only went out on one official date but it felt like something special and it wasn’t the only time we’d hung out. Just as I’m about to confide in Kelsey about my lingering feelings, my phone buzzes with a new message.
It’s Ryan’s number.
Hey Hailey. Can we talk?
My heart leaps into my throat, and I stare at the screen in disbelief. Kelsey notices my reaction and leans over to peek at my phone.
“Is that… Ryan?” she asks, her eyes wide with surprise.
I nod, feeling a mix of hope and anxiety. “Yeah, he wants to talk.”
“Wow,” Kelsey says, a slow smile spreading across her face. “This could be a good thing, right?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, my voice shaky. “But I want to find out.”
I quickly type a response:
Sure, when?
A few moments later, my phone buzzes again:
Campus park at 3?
I glance at the clock. It’s already two-thirty. “He wants to meet at the park at three. I should ask for later, right? Not just jump up when he asks?”
“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “I mean do you really want to risk it? You haven’t spoken in weeks.”
She’s right, and I’m not really one to play games, despite him accusing me of being dramatic. “Okay, I’m going to go. Are you okay with getting back alone?”
“Yes, Mom, I think I can manage.” She snags the chips off my plate. “Now go!”
I grab my bag and stand up, clutching my phone with a smile. “Okay. I’ll text.”
“Good luck!” she calls. “Don’t come home until you’ve kissed him or punched him!”