Chapter 45
Finals Week
Emily
Hushed concentration settled over the school cafeteria as everyone buried themselves in their notes in a last sprint to rescue their grades. In Germany, finals were usually spread over the last month, but here they all happened in the span of a week. Fortunately, my own grades were better than they ever were back home—despite my inconsistent focus—and I felt like I had learned way more. I even did well in Math.
I gave finals my best with the meager third of my brain that could focus. It had been a few days since I’d walked away from Jon. I could barely sleep or keep down my food—in short, I was a total mess. But I kept reminding myself that it was the right choice, no matter how much it hurt.
The English exam was a breeze. The only headache was comma rules, which are entirely different than German ones.
For US History, I surprised myself with how many answers I could pull out. I realized it wasn’t history I struggled with, but the bad teachers I used to have and the pressure of wanting to impress Richard. Apparently, the best way to impress someone is not trying too hard.
Now I was taking the Strength Training exam. I had completed the theoretical component, labeling every muscle in the body, and the practical test was underway. The teacher watched me press, hands on her hips. I needed to show improvement in my arm strength to boost my final grade.
“C’mon, German! Push!” Aiden yelled as I embarked on my last set of bench presses.
“I’m pushing!” I hollered back, beads of sweat bursting on my forehead as the bar trembled in my hands, threatening to descend upon me.
“You’ve got to push harder! You’re freaking strong, Emily! A damn exchange student! Leaving your home country! Nothing can bring you down!”
I pushed. My arms slowly straightened. And I managed to push the bar back up.
“Woo-hoo!” I jumped up triumphantly, leaping into Aiden’s arms even though we were both drenched in sweat. He twirled me around and we laughed and cheered.
“Next time, watch your language, Aiden,” our teacher said with a frown. “However...” She glanced down at her paper. “He loaded your bar with even more weight than I asked for,” she told me. “This gets you an A.”
I spun around to face Aiden. “What?! I thought you only added twenty pounds?!”
“I knew you had the strength for more, so I added forty.”
I nudged Aiden with my elbow as the teacher moved on to assess the next team. He winced, holding his arm, but this time he was being for real. “I need a week of rest after today.”
“Preach that,” I laughed, feeling the soreness in my own muscles—but not as exhausted as they were at the beginning of this class. Now, I felt energized.
We went for our usual post-workout chat at the water fountains. “You going to prom next week?” Aiden asked suddenly.
I looked down. “I’m not a senior and I don’t have a senior date, so no.”
It saddened me not to attend like everyone else, but I had accepted it. Missing prom wasn’t the end of the world. Even though the image of Jon and me dancing at prom had flashed through my daydreams for months...
“You wanna go with me, cari?o?” Aiden said, shrugging.
My eyes widened. “You want to take me to prom?”
“The whole Fam will be there. I know a few girls who want to go with me, but I’d rather go with a close friend who’d miss out otherwise.”
I had to restrain myself from dissolving into tears right then and there. I jumped into his arms again. “Thank you, Aiden. You’re such a great friend.”
“If I ever want to come to Germany, you got a bed for me?”
I squeezed him tighter. “I’ll have an entire room for you.”
With that boost from Strength Training, I dived into my Culinary final with all I had. The kitchen echoed with the clattering of spoons, the rhythmic chopping of knives, and the sizzling of meat in pans. Even Danielle was too absorbed to crack a joke. The heat of so many stoves induced sweat on everyone’s foreheads, but I welcomed the stress. Chef Sayle gave the five-minute notice and we all ran back and forth, adding our final touches.
I was first. I walked my dishes over to Chef Sayle and placed them on the table. Chicken soup for starters, then roasted potatoes, chicken with sautéed carrots and celery and a rich sauce for flavor.
“Impressive, German,” he said, armed with a fork and pen. He tasted my creation in silence, jotting down notes, then handed me my paper, sporting a satisfied smile. “Too bad you won’t be here for Culinary next year. It was a pleasure to be your teacher. Now go enjoy your meal at your station.”
“Thank you for being the best teacher I’ve ever had,” I said, not to be an apple-polisher but because I truly meant it. I’d never had a teacher who taught me so much, who was strict yet joked around in between. I looked forward to showing Mama all the dishes I’d learned.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he said, and flashed me another brief smile before turning his attention to Breana. There was a bright A on top of my evaluation sheet.
Breana presented a tantalizing dish that lacked any visible chicken, replaced by chickpeas and what seemed like tofu.
“You didn’t make chicken?!” Chef Sayle shouted, and Breana defended her plant-based choice. I admired her for risking her final grade to stand by her principles.
She joined me at our station, holding up her B+. “It was worth it,” she said, beaming, and I nodded in agreement. For a little while we ate our food in silence.
“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” Breana said suddenly. “I told him off right after you left.”
I choked on my potato. “Okay,” was all I managed, and we left it at that.
Danielle rushed over with her grade. “Guys, I got an A+!”
“You’ve always been the Chef’s favorite,” Breana teased while I gave her a high five.
“Duh!” Danielle tossed the strands of hair peeking out of her chef’s hat.
And for a few shining moments, everything seemed all right in the world as we laughed and talked about how much we were going to miss this class.
In a whirlwind of excitement, Danielle, Kiki, Natalia and I blazed through the mall on a mission to find the perfect last-minute prom dresses. Apparently, a lot of seniors took juniors as their pretend dates so the juniors could reunite inside. They called it try-out prom, practice for the real deal next year. So on paper, Danielle was going with Paul, while Kiki was Timo’s date. As far as I knew, Jon hadn’t offered his services to anyone. I wondered if he’d show up—but quickly quashed that line of thought.
“Okay, we’re freaking way behind,” Danielle reminded us as we flipped through racks of prom dresses. “But we’ll make it work, right?”
Natalia’s triumphant “Heck yeah!” echoed through the air, sealed with a high five from Danielle. They giggled approvingly at each other before running off to another rack.
It had taken me an hour to convince Danielle to let Natalia join our try-out prom party, that Nat was cool but wouldn’t replace her as my best friend. I hadn’t realized Danielle was that sensitive, even a bit territorial. And then they’d immediately clicked, two extroverts glamming up the spotlight. I didn’t mind. It was nice to be the quiet observer again—an observer who had a voice, though.
I was squinting at a beaded turquoise number when Kiki caught me by the elbow. “Hey,” she said, sounding strangely serious.
“What’s up?”
She hesitated, tucking a strand of shiny black hair behind her ear. “I wanted to ask if you’re okay...?”
I sighed, realizing she must be referring to her going to prom with Paul. “Kiki, I’m genuinely happy for you and Paul.” Yeah, it had stung, witnessing his promposal that was worthy of a movie, but I had come to terms with it.
She cocked her head. “I wasn’t talking about Paul and me...”
I bit my tongue. “Then what?”
She shook her head slightly. “Jon... How can you deal with it so easily?”
“Oh.” No one else had dared bring him up with me yet. “I’m not dealing with it easily, Kiki. I’m trying not to think of him, but I miss him and still wish we could work, even though I know we won’t. There are too many obstacles.”
Her expression shifted to disbelief. “Yeah, um. Let’s find dresses,” she declared, and marched ahead. I scrunched my brows. Was I missing something?
Danielle and Natalia approached with a white dress in their hands. “Emily! We found just the right dress for you!” Natalia exclaimed, bouncing with excitement.
“And guess what, it’s fifty percent off! It’s in your budget!” Danielle added, matching Natalia’s enthusiasm. Each of us had a different budget, mine being the smallest of all because I was saving up for flights. Jon and I weren’t dating anymore, but I still wanted to come back and visit. Danielle’s and Natalia’s budgets were average, and Kiki’s was basically a gold mine.
Danielle held up the dress, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was stunning, the absolute perfect dress for me. Simple yet elegant, it cascaded down in waves of soft satin, snug around the waist and hips. The eggshell color gave it a timeless charm, sort of like a wedding dress. The mid-length cut, complete with a slit, promised easy movement. I silently prayed that my small boobs would fill the cutout under the flowy neckline.
“What do you say?” Danielle asked as Natalia darted off again.
“It’s perfect, Danielle.” I sniffled, no idea why I was suddenly so emotional. “I can’t believe it’s prom already.”
“Oh, Emi.” Danielle patted me on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I know going shopping with you is never just about the clothing.”
A laugh escaped my lips as I recalled the Halloween costume debacle. Danielle passed me the dress and returned to her own search.
But prom was marking the beginning of the end... Ugh, I didn’t want it to be the end yet!
Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I glanced to the side and caught the eyes of a curvy woman standing behind a rack. My skin tingled. Her smile seemed oddly calculated, as if she’d been waiting for me to notice her. I clenched my teeth when she stepped out.
Marna.
I strode toward her, the dress clutched tight in my arms. “What do you want?” I snapped, stopping five feet away.
“Wow, you sound like Paul now... or maybe Jon? I think he’s your current flavor of the month. Or did it change again?” She sniggered.
“What do you want?” I repeated. “Obviously you’re not here for prom dress shopping.”
She shrugged. “Who says I can’t have a look at dresses?” Her eyes bore into the dress over my arm. “Yours doesn’t exactly scream prom either, but I don’t see a ring on your finger. A bit desperate, don’t you think?”
I pressed my teeth together. She was trying for the oldest trick in the book. But that didn’t mean it didn’t work. “Bye, Marna.”
Turning to leave, her voice snagged me back like a lasso around my neck. “I want you to deliver a warning to Jon,” she growled. “He was supposed to meet me a few hours ago. He hadn’t shown or replied to my messages, and I’m not as patient as I used to be.”
I slowly turned back around, my heart beating in my throat. “J-Jon is in contact with you?” My voice shook like an earthquake.
“Yes,” she crowed, making my worst nightmare come true. Jon was talking to them again...
He wasn’t sober anymore. He...
The oxygen was sucked out of my lungs. I gripped the nearest clothing rack. He had relapsed; he had given up—
Everything went dark.
This is all my fault...
“She’s okay, girls,” a woman’s voice echoed in my ears, pulling me reluctantly back to consciousness.
“Emily!”
As my vision cleared, I found Kiki, Danielle and Natalia hovering over me. With effort, I propped myself up on an elbow. “Where am I?” I said, taking in the doctor’s bench and the machines surrounding me.
“You’re at my mom’s office,” Kiki said, concern lacing her words. I scanned the room again. There, next to Kiki, was her mother, offering me a kind smile.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You passed out,” Dr. Chanakit said. “But I checked all your vitals, and it’s most likely stress.”
“A panic attack,” Kiki clarified.
“I’ll leave you girls alone for a bit. Take as much time as you need,” Dr. Chanakit said, planting a kiss on Kiki’s cheek before exiting the examination room. The sight of their closeness tugged at my heart, intensifying my longing for my own mother.
“I don’t understand...” I said.
“You don’t remember? We were dress shopping,” Danielle said, triggering a flood of memories.
Marna had found me, delivered a warning.
My breath grew short again.
“Jon is using!” I blurted, bolting up and pressing my hands to my chest. “I need to—” But the girls gently pushed me back down. Natalia and Danielle exchanged glances and stepped back as Kiki took hold of my hand.
“No, he’s sober,” she said, squeezing my hand tightly.
“How do you know that?” I cried out. “Marna told me he’s seeing her again; he has to—”
“She’s blackmailing him, Emily,” Kiki interrupted.
For a moment, I focused on regaining control of my breathing. “What?” I managed to press out.
Kiki sighed and sat beside me, adding her other hand on top of mine.
“They’ve been after Paul for calling an ambulance for Jon. They’re mad because they lost their leader and a lot of money. Jon’s been trying to make it right, and he didn’t want to drag you and Paul or any of us into it.”
Her words felt heavy and thick in my brain. Jon had been working with them for a while? How come I hadn’t noticed? Why did he never tell me?
“He...” I swallowed, attempting to zero in on the most crucial detail. “He didn’t relapse.”
Kiki shook her head reassuringly. “No, Emily. As far as we know, he didn’t.”
“He didn’t relapse,” I whispered over and over until my heart could finally grasp it. Then I sat up straight as a needle.
“Paul was assaulted by Marna’s gang?!”