Chapter 24
24
Sonny
T he week passes in a blur of lectures, psychology textbooks, and work at my new job as a dishwasher in the dining hall. Every free moment I have in the three days after meeting with Dr. Whitlock is spent on my essay, which I take great care in sprinkling personal experiences with narcissists into the paper—starting with my stubborn professor. My face remains firmly placed against my laptop screen, my body sore from hours sitting in wooden library chairs.
The moment Hayes explains our next weekly assignment and dismisses class that Wednesday, I’m practically sprinting toward the psychology offices to turn the paper in, eager to see his reaction to having stood up to his challenge.
“What’s this?” he has the nerve to ask, barely glancing away from his work to greet me.
“It’s my paper—completely rewritten,” I announce proudly. When he doesn’t so much as look at me again, I set the papers on the corner of his desk.
“Is there anything else?”
Hesitating in the doorway, I shift on my feet. In my head, this was a much more theatrical moment. “No. Thanks.”
“Heading out?” Hayes asks from the copier tucked in the back corner of the office as I brush past his empty desk, interrupting my derailed thoughts. When he notices my startled expression, he holds his hands out in front of him. “Sorry, I thought you heard me coming.”
“It’s okay. Yeah, I was about to go to my next class.”
“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside me.
I’m not great company for him this time, too caught up in my head about Professor Whitlock to offer him more than a few mumbles or shrugs in response to his feeble attempts at conversation. I feel horrible.
When I finally turn toward him and see the dejected look marring his face, I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
As we approach the doors leading to my next lecture, he looks down, biting his lip. “No worries, I get it. A group of us are meeting up at the clock tower on Friday to have a few drinks. You should come.”
I shake my head, the decline sitting at the tip of my tongue when he jogs in front of me and stops directly in my path, forcing me to look up at him. “Come for a few minutes, at least. You’ve been holed up in your dorm for the past week, and everyone misses you.”
Biting my cheek, I consider the offer. It might be nice to get some fresh air, anyway.
“Maybe,” I relent, earning a wide smile. Throwing my finger up, I add, “But only for a little bit. I have midterms next week.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
E ach Friday night, the large clock tower outside of the student dorms and the courtyard swarms with students of every year, all scattered around in smaller groups. Different genres of music play from multiple speakers, blending together to create a cacophony of sounds that only adds to the chaos. It’s a rite that I’ve generally avoided for most of my time here, always too caught up in homework assignments or, more recently, the dining hall.
I prefer the solitude of the library or my own bedroom over the stimulation of being around my peers. Constantly wondering if I’m saying the right thing or acting the right way and overanalyzing people’s reactions. If I’m being honest, my fear of being seen and perceived likely stems from making sure I never stepped out of line with Aunt Divina. The threat of her taking everything away from Uncle Graysen still rings loudly in the back of my mind, reminding me of everything my mere presence puts at stake. It was always easier to slink around corners and hide in the shadows until she passed by.
Back home, Poppy would lead us through most social situations while I stood quietly behind her, content with being the random cousin who always seemed to be on her trail. Without her here, I feel like I’ve lost all social skills. Maybe I never had any at all. But the pressure of keeping up appearances as Poppy and not coming across as a total freak always steers me away from things like this.
Ironically, I would be a psychologist’s dream.
As luck would have it, I was given this Friday off from the kitchen, so I took that as a sign to accept Hayes’s offer and let loose a little bit. Though, as I slowly approach the crowd, I realize how silly that impulse was.
I spot Beatrix, Ava, and Jonah huddled together on a blanket beneath one of the larger trees across the courtyard, while Hayes and a few of his friends toss a football back and forth in front of them. Tucking my head down, I make a beeline toward them, stepping around blankets and picnic tables without really looking at who is there.
Hayes smiles at me as I approach, holding his finger up to his friends before jogging toward me while I close in on the last ten feet.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” he greets eagerly, pulling me into an awkward, one-armed hug.
“The stars aligned. I got the night off,” I mutter through a smile, brushing past him to greet my friends.
Beatrix and Ava scoot over on the blanket to make room for me, and Jonah reaches into the cooler behind him to offer me a beer that I gratefully accept.
“It’s freezing,” Ava complains, tugging the oversized jacket around her shoulders even tighter.
“Drink something. It’ll warm you up,” Hayes offers from behind me, waving his hand toward the bag of glass bottles sitting against the tree trunk.
Shaking her head, Ava hunches forward. “I have to work in the library tomorrow morning.”
Balking at her, I ask, “New work study?”
“It’s a part of the history program. We take inventory of the old textbooks in the Landry library once a month,” she answers miserably.
“Gotta love the arts,” Beatrix mumbles sarcastically.
Ava shoots an icy glare over her shoulder, which Beatrix ignores to take another sip from her plastic cup.
I want to find a way to ask if she can show me some things about her gifts without sounding suspicious. When I complained to Poppy the other night about being stuck in Valeria classes as a glorified placebo while I’m starving for more information about my Aeternum blood, she suggested I take private lessons from Ava. The problem is that even asking for those lessons would give me away as a fake, and I’m not sure how much I can trust Ava with that yet.
Hayes’s friends call out for him and he holds a finger up again for them to wait one more minute. They throw their hands in the air, mumbling playful jabs toward him that he ignores to turn toward me instead. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve just got to finish this game.”
Nodding, I hold up my beer. “Take your time,” I tell him.
He smiles, then turns and jogs back to his friends, who all give him shit for being slow.
“He likes you,” Jonah teases, wiggling his eyebrows.
I fall into the spot beside him and cross my legs, huddling into my jacket. “He does not. He’s just overly-friendly.”
“Hayes has never been that friendly toward me,” Beatrix points out, then gulps down her beer. She’s got on a comically huge fur hat that completely conceals her hair and makes her large eyes pop.
“That’s because you aren’t nice to him,” Ava laughs.
“You aren’t nice to anyone,” Jonah agrees, and Beatrix shrugs in response.
We wait for Hayes to finish whatever game he’s playing, then leave the safety of our tree to join the majority of people who have migrated into at a cluster of picnic tables. An hour passes and while I’m enjoying conversation with Hayes, I’m freezing my ass off. Beatrix and Jonah break off to chat with a group of their friends that I haven’t met yet. I decide to take the out when Ava says she’s ready to go, offering an awkward goodnight to Hayes before jogging back to Devlin.
I'm so exhausted when I get back to my dorm, I promise myself no more social interactions for the rest of the weekend.