Sorry, Not Sorry: A Young Adult Novel Page 7

  They found Poe exactly where Harper left her, huddled in the one-foot deep hallway alcove, this time with her homework propped on her lap. A stray sniffle escaped her nose.

  Harper beamed at Poe. “I deleted—” She glanced at Brett and corrected herself. “We deleted all traces of the image from the phone. You’re safe.”

  Poe’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. Seriously.” She bit her lip. “I feel awful about you missing tryouts.”

  Harper’s mouth hung open. “How did you—?”

  “It was obvious. You winced every time you heard a whistle from the field.”

  Harper gave her a sad little sigh. “It’s okay. There’s always next year, right?”

  A crazy smile stretched Brett’s lips. “You didn’t miss anything. I turned on all the sprinklers because I didn’t know which ones were for the football field. All tryouts are postponed until tomorrow.”

  Harper threw her arms around Brett’s shoulders. And then when her brain caught up with her actions, she waggled her fingers toward Poe. Poe hesitated for only a moment before she scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around both of them.

  And just like that, they were instant best friends. Inseparable.

  Until they weren’t.

  CHAPTER 7

  POE

  The great room in Lyman Hall was a flutter of activity and a maze of suitcases. The last remnants of bright sunlight filtered in through the giant windows, brightening up the dreary gray industrial floors and silver columns scattered throughout the room. For a moment, Poe stood at the apex, the rush of people blurring in front of her as her nostrils flared. She had no doubt Harper had come here tonight to be an idiot all over again and date the one guy with a proven track record of screwing people over. Poe had never understood how Harper had fallen for his shtick when she knew first hand—knew!—what Connor was really capable of. Seeing her rejecting him in cold bloody hell the other day gave Poe the kind of satisfaction that had shriveled and died the entire year Harper and Connor dated.

  “Are you okay?”

  Poe whipped her head to the right, her pulse racing with the memory of the first words Harper ever said to her, one of only two moments in Poe’s life when she allowed herself to be weak enough to cry in public. But it was just a perky blond who looked like a paper doll that had likely replaced her cheerleading uniform with form fitting jeans and a ruffled blouse.

  The door swung open again behind Poe, snapping her into action. “No. I’m fine.” Her words were a contradiction. They were also accurate.

  “You looked like you’d seen a ghost!” Perky Blonde grabbed onto Poe’s elbow as if she were about to topple over from the weight of her equally perky breasts. “I’m Bethany. Let me show you to your room assignment.” Nearby, a teacher glared at Bethany and the girl let out an exasperated sigh. “Wait, first I have to tell you the rules.” She beamed a smile at Poe as if trying to make this less awkward. “Absolutely no drinking or drugs. Anyone found in violation of this rule will lose their spot next year.”

  Nearby, a guy listening in groaned as if all his plans for starting his college partying career a few months early were now ruined.

  “No other guests allowed and you must stay with your host student or students at all times.”

  “Even when using the bathroom?” the jerk boy shouted.

  “Yes.” The teacher standing nearby ambled over. “Even in the bathroom. It’s for your own safety. The freshman who signed up to host you went through a very rigorous training process and they’ve been instructed to look out for you at all times.”

  Poe’s entire body stiffened. More groans followed. She wasn’t spending the night in students’ dorms. She was spending them with babysitters.

  “All right!” Bethany clapped. “Let’s get to your assignment.”

  Poe let the girl lead her away, if only so she had an excuse to stop blocking the door before Harper and Brett came barreling through.

  The two stopped in front of a table with name cards laid out like seating assignments for a wedding. Poe’s vision skipped over the names, landing on only two. Harper Faegan - Haven Hall. Brett Emmich - DellPlain Hall.

  “Your name?” the girl asked, looking at Poe as if she may have forgotten.

  But Poe found her card and snatched it up. Her hand curled into a fist, crushing the little piece of cardboard.

  Bethany stared at Poe’s palm in horror, her eyes flicking between the crumpled paper and the Fuck You rings.

  “Um. Thanks.” Poe yanked her suitcase off to the side, away from the groups of girls and boys sort of gathering, sort of mingling, but mostly just standing in the same vicinity. When she was finally alone in the crowded room, she unfurled her card. Her stomach dropped through the floor. Poe Culliver - Frick Hall.

  Fucking hell. Frick Hall.

  It was on the clear opposite side of the campus from her half sister Valentina Cupo, who lived in Haven Hall according to the student directory. Poe cursed Harper under her breath, another thing to be angry with her for. Back at the table, Harper plucked her card from the stack and frowned at it for a moment and then at the other cards. She twirled with ballerina poise and wheeled her suitcase directly into the middle of the room so she could become the center of attention here, too.

  Poe glanced down at her card and back up at Harper. An electric bolt of an idea lit up through her entire body. No, she told herself before the idea could lodge into her mind. She’d managed to get straight A’s this entire year but her brain was about to suggest something very very dumb. Asking Harper to switch assignments would mean taking all her pride and throwing it into the wind. She might as well open her chest and expose her heart to give Harper the perfect shot to stab her in the front this time.

  But if you keep this assignment, you’re only spiting yourself. The stupid rules replayed in her mind and Poe squeezed her suitcase handle, knuckles turning white. Thankfully, her brain decided to be useful and suggested an alternate idea. Find someone else to switch with, then. She whisked her suitcase into motion before she could chicken out. She stopped at the back row of students and peered over another girl’s shoulder to read her card. Haven Hall. A smirk jumped onto Poe’s face, and she had to work hard to tone it down a notch so it didn’t look creepy.

  “Hi.” She extended her hand to the stranger.

  The girl eyed her warily, tugging her own duffel bag closer. “Hi?”

  “What dorm did you get?” Poe tried her best to appear friendly and not have her voice sound like it always did, like she was sick of the world.

  “Haven?” The girl inched away, ducking beneath her thick curls.

  “Oh, I hear that one’s lame. I got Frick, which I’m told is awesome. Wanna trade?” Poe held up her crumpled card, then quickly unfurled it, smoothing out the edges in order to pretend it was in tact and not a hand me down assignment. The same way her life often felt like a second hand shot after someone else failed first.

  “I’m not sure if that’s allowed, and I don’t—”

  Poe rolled her suitcase away, already deciphering the unspoken no.

  She tried two more Haven girls to no avail. A glance back at the table showed her almost all the cards had been picked up. The event would start soon and then Poe might lose all chance of finding her sister. She clenched her teeth and bit back the bitterness at what she had to do.

  After maneuvering her suitcase through the crowd, she parked next to Harper, who was craning her head around at the faces, like a paranoid squirrel. Harper kept flicking her phone on and glancing at the lock screen as if she might have missed an important message from two seconds ago.

  Poe gritted her teeth, forcing the words out. “I need a favor.”

  Harper laughed, but her shoulders hunched in defense. The sound made Poe cringe. She’d heard it thousands of times coming from Harper’s new lunch table at school. “Don’t you think I’ve done enough favors for you? Your prom date, for example.”

  Poe bristled but let the bullets s
lam into her chest. She deserved them. “Please.” The word was her only weapon. It was both a white flag and a sword, wielded to a sharp point. “I need you to switch dorm assignments with me.”

  Harper opened her mouth in what seemed like another peal of laughter, but then she clamped it shut. She tilted her head, her red curls falling away from her face. “What dorm are you in?”

  Poe’s pulse amped with something dangerous. Something like hope. “Frick.”

  Harper tapped her fingers against her thigh. Poe’s entire life flashed by as she waited. “Fine,” Harper said, but then added, “For a price.”

  The card in Poe’s hand crumpled further. “Name it.”

  “A return favor. Whatever I need, whenever I need it. No questions asked.”

  Every muscle in Poe’s body coiled. It was the worst kind of offer imaginable. A jail sentence. It meant that Poe would be indebted to Harper, always at her beck and call. But it was also a gamble that whatever Harper demanded would be something Poe could live with. She’d taken that bet before and lost. She took it again now. “Whatever,” she said, holding out her card. She pushed her lips out in annoyance, anything to avoid Harper from discovering the truth: how grateful she was.

  Harper took it fast, then handed Poe hers. The girls tried their hardest to avoid even brushing fingers and then both jerked their suitcases away, moving toward opposite sides of the room.

  “Thank you all for coming to Wisconsin State’s Annual Prospective Student Overnight!” the teacher from the entrance took the microphone at the front of the room, earning a round of zombie claps, the prospectives putting their hands together out of obligation instead of excitement. “By now you should all know the rules. Please know that any violation will result in immediate disciplinary probation which may affect your acceptance status at this school.”

  Every student in the room straightened as if even their posture might incriminate them.

  “And also, please remember that you may indulge in any of the approved activities we’ve set up for tonight. Anything else is off limits.”

  Poe had one guess what was omitted from the list: anything interesting.

  “Now, why don’t we release you to your host students?”

  Cheers rang out, the loudest from perky Bethany despite being a volunteer helper.

  “You’ll notice the names of the dorms are hanging on posters throughout the room.”

  Poe’s eyes followed to where Haven Hall was listed in the far right corner of the room. Far away from Frick Hall, just like on the map.

  “Please go to your respective waiting areas. Your hosts will find you one by one by calling out your names.”

  The students moved at once, rushing around each other in a mad dash to get to their assignment. Harper and Poe passed by each other like two ships in a night, the secret between them festering in Poe’s stomach like an ulcer. Poe stood in a cluster of girls, all turned toward the entrance, watching as a stream of freshmen blew into the great hall like celebrities. Across the way, a tall athletic looking girl plucked Harper out of the crowd and bent down to knuckle her on the arms.

  “Harper Faegan?” a girl called just outside Poe’s group. She was Asian with trendy cat eye glasses perched on her nose. Poe’s stomach clenched at the name, her usual reaction whenever she heard it out of context.

  “Harper?” the girl asked again, craning her neck.

  Poe looked down at the card in her hand. “Oh.” Bile rose in her throat. She had to pretend to be her own enemy. “Um, that’s me.” She strode forward. “But I go by my…middle name. Poe.”

  “It’s so good to meet you!” the girl said, throwing her arms around Poe. “I’m Lucy. We’re going to have so much fun! I’ve got this amazing itinerary planned—”

  But Poe stopped listening. She planned to break rule number two the first chance she got.

  CHAPTER 8

  BRETT

  Brett perused the name table, trying to commit each female name to memory in case one belonged to ShadowGirl. His eyes roamed over every girl in the place. Which one was the one who made him feel more like himself than anyone ever had? The teacher in charge released the students to their respective dorm areas and Brett felt at home standing in a cluster of strangers, no one paying attention to him or acknowledging him. One by one the other guys in his group left with their host students until the room was nearly empty, only teachers and volunteers left. And Brett, alone under the sign.

  He spit out a self-deprecating laugh to himself. Of course he’d be last picked. He’d made a school career out of being the one student that gym teams fought to not choose. The only skill he had for sports was managing a team because it involved schedules and spreadsheets, things he could score on. But his attempt to make friends by becoming team manager left him with sweaty jock straps to wash and nothing else. So it only made sense that in the one place he had a chance to reinvent himself and start fresh, fate would deal him exactly the same hand he’d always been dealt. Though lugging his younger sister with him probably wouldn’t have helped his cause…even if she were much cooler than him.

  A perky blond girl strutted toward him, smoothing her ruffled shirt over her thin hips. “Hi! I’m Bethany and I’m here to help,” she said when she was still ten feet away, pointing at him like he was an object she could direct with the tip of her finger. “Let me see your card.”

  Brett lifted it to her, his hand shaking. She snapped it from him and checked something on her iPad before sighing heavily. “Give me one second.” She stepped a few feet away and dialed her cell phone. Brett couldn’t make out the words but her tone grew angrier as she spoke. A moment later she set the phone down, rushed to speak with the organizer, then came back and hit Brett with the biggest strained smile he’d ever seen. “Just spoke to your host. He’s running a little late but should be here any moment!” She injected way too much pep into her voice.

  Brett shifted his weight from foot to foot, nodding meekly. He didn’t need a four point oh GPA to translate the situation: his host student had forgotten about him. Just like everyone else.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils, a calming technique he’d perfected throughout high school. Guys were supposed to be tough. Yet Brett almost failed the Weight Training elective he took with Harper junior year because he couldn’t lift two fifteen-pound dumbbells at once.

  A vibration in his pocket startled him, and he scrambled to pull out his phone. A DM from ShadowGirl made his heart swell and his stomach drop at the same time: Hey, just letting you know I’m on campus! I tried to look for you at the meeting but kind of hard when I don’t know what you look like.

  Brett: I was there…and had the same problem when I looked around for you! I couldn’t even check if your name card had been picked up.

  ShadowGirl: Yours was gone when I got there so you must have arrived first.

  Except mine would have been under Brett, not Blake. Well maybe I’ll give you a sneak peek of what I look like when I upload the “evidence.” A shot of my elbow in front of the graffiti mural perhaps?

  He couldn’t reveal much more because the thought of doing so made his stomach roil and heave with nerves. He was the one who initially suggested they keep their relationship to ASCII characters only. In text, he could be witty. He could be charming. He could be the kind of guy a girl might actually fall in love with. He’d already wasted three years being in love with the best friend who saw him as only that before she saw him as nothing at all. A large part of him worried he’d always be sub-par: he was too short, his eyes were too far apart, his limbs lacked “meat” on them as his mother constantly reminded him, his nose curved at the end, and his kissing skills could only be defined as non-existent. He was the kind of guy girls dared their friends to ask out as a prank. Not the kind of guy girls sat in class swooning over.

  ShadowGirl: Evidence? Graffiti?? Are you planning to commit a crime before we meet up???

  Brett squinted at the screen,
unsure of her meaning. After all, she’d been the one to suggest that very crime with her clues.

  “Brett?”

  Brett’s head snapped up as Bethany led another guy toward him. The guy looked like he was made of more weed than human cells by the way he loped toward him, a white hat shielding his blood shot eyes, his jeans slung low. The skunky scent wafted off him as if he’d bathed in it instead of cologne or soap. Brett let out a relieved sigh. This was exactly the type of guy that might be willing to overlook the third wheel addition to his room tonight. When Bethany spoke, she was holding her nose. “Brett, I’d like you to meet your host for tonight, Tyler Juergenson.”

  Tyler grunted in greeting and then spun right around, moseying right back toward the door.

  Brett let out a heavy sigh and smiled a thank you toward Bethany, who gave him a sort of one shoulder apology shrug. Brett towed his suitcase toward Tyler, catching up to him in seconds thanks to the fact that Tyler seemed to walk with the gait of a drunken sloth. Tyler opened the door to outside, then didn’t bother to hold it for Brett. It slammed in his face.

  Brett’s tongue hung thick and heavy in his mouth, but he lifted his shoulders and tried to break the ice when he caught up with Tyler again. “So what are you majoring in?”

  “Girls,” the guy said, as if he was getting straight A’s in ass. He abruptly turned in the opposite direction of Maya’s bench, causing Brett to nearly trip over his suitcase in an attempt to follow. A watercolor painting of pinks and oranges seeped across the sky and blotted out the blue. Shadows emerged over the edges of the world, outlining every object with a sharp black line like in a comic.

  Brett cleared his throat. “Actually, can we go the other way for a sec?”

  Tyler rubbed his eyes with this fists. “Dude, I don’t even remember signing up for this,” he said as if this had anything to do with Brett’s question.