A flash fire of anger lights up my brain. “Right. Glad you’re all right. From now on, I’m out.” Without waiting, I tap to end the call.
I feel like an idiot. Free-spirit Ash doesn’t live the way the rest of us do, so I shouldn’t have panicked about her disappearance these past three days, buthello… menacing guys are chasing her.
I’m also angry at Jamie for not getting in touch. We slept together four days ago. He promised he’d text. Even if he got busy over the weekend and was planning to reach out later in the week, when I left a handwritten note two days ago, begging him to at least let me know Ash was all right, someone should’ve put me out of my misery.
Walking out of the lounge, I stop by the campus police’s front desk.
“She’s fine,” I say to the officers who were helping me. An embarrassing flush burns my cheeks. “Sorry I bothered you.”
The police guys look sympathetic. “It’s not a problem. We’d always rather have a false alarm than not get notified until it’s too late.”
“Thanks.” I hold up a hand in a half wave as I exit the office.
Outside, sunlight blasts my retinas, blinding me. Worry kept me from sleeping well the past couple of nights, and now my head throbs. I fumble through my backpack for my sunglasses. Once I shove them on, I sigh heavily.
Deep down though, I don’t feel calm and I don’t understand why that is. I desperately wanted Ash to be all right, and she is. If anything had happened to her, I would’ve felt sickeningly guilty for waiting so long to report her missing. Knowing she’s okay should make me ecstatic.
A niggling irritation is like pinpricks into my eyeballs. I realize it’s because I haven’t recovered from feeling alone and afraid I’d lost another person I care about. It’s happened over and over… Entering foster care meant losing touch with my bio mom and everyone I knew. In middle school, my best friend moved away, and finally, Mom died.
By now, I know that no matter what happens, I’ll make it through to the other side. It’s what I do. But I guess there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to go through another round of that hurt.
I pass the building where a class I’m going to skip today will be held. All I want to do is get back to my room, close the shades and bury my face in my pillow for a twelve-hour nap.
Stomping back to Central, I tell my brain to calm down and get ready to rest because there’s no way I’m losing any more sleep thinking about this.
Fucking Ash. Why the hell do I already care so much about her and her damn cousin?
* * *
“Sawyer!”
Trying to fight my way out from under my blanket, I mentally—and groggily—curse my life. “What?”
Somewhere above me, Ash’s amused voice pierces my surly mood. “Hey, babes, you better get up.”
I’m silent.
“Seesaw—”
“What?” I fling the covers back and open one eye. “What day is it?”
“Still Tuesday. And hey, sorry you were worried about me.” She bends down and kisses the top of my head. As though I’m a toddler. “You need to call Jamie.”
That brings me to an upright, sitting position. Bright hair hangs over my eyes, and I peer at Ash through the tangled mess. She’s wearing a manga t-shirt with a kitty on the front, along with a dark pink miniskirt. If I wasn’t so tired and annoyed, I’d question her fashion choices. “What did you say?”
Ash’s smirk makes me feel like punching the wall. “Call my cousin back, you little psycho.” She sits on the edge of her bed. “He’s in Coins, by the way.”
He was gone and still hasn’t come back even though the weekend’s long over?
“‘Little psycho,’ your words, Ash? Or his?”
She laughs. “Mine.” Ash hops up and goes to her dresser where she unpacks a small duffle. So, she really is moving in? “Call him back and then get your ass in the shower. We have to go shopping before the boutiques close.” She pulls the curtain back, letting light in and opens the window a crack. “I’ll wait down in the lobby cuz this room smells like Pumpkin Spice gym socks. Jesus.” Flinging the door open, she marches out of our dorm room.
“What the AF?” Grabbing my phone, I open the messages I got while I was asleep. One’s from Ash announcing she’s on her way home. Another is just one word,Jamie.And there’s a voicemail from Jamie’s number. I play it.
“It’s me. Call me.” He sounds pissed.
The guilt I feel about causing trouble is brief as defensive anger quickly takes its place. If Ash and Jamie had just given me their numbers from the beginning, I wouldn’t have had to go psycho-worrier on them.
