To this, I smile. “I always read the book.”
“Excellent,” Nathan replies. “And I have a pencil. Together we’re like one full brain.”
I loop my arm through his with a laugh, and we head toward the building to go work on our papers.
•••
Nathan and I make a plan for later. I’ll go to my appointment with Dr. Warren at two thirty, and then Nathan will meet me at the Adjustment office at four. We’re going to demand answers. I’m glad Nathan’s coming with me. He’s my magic feather—my confidence booster.
Wes isn’t in class when I arrive, so we don’t have the awkward “Hi. I slept in your bed last night, and it was a huge mistake” conversation, but he does show up near the end. He smiles at me before sitting down, and I hear Nathan groan behind me. This isn’t going to be easy to untangle.
There are no class interruptions today, no sign of Dr. Wyatt. There is one kid absent, Robert Rodrigo. I heard a rumor that he’s in the hospital, but when I asked about it, his friend quickly brushed me off.
What’s concerning about that piece of information is that Robert is a returner. And the past few weeks have returners dropping like flies—whether by a meltdown, an aneurysm, or... self-inflicted trauma. Two or three just opted out of school altogether. The assessments are dredging up bad memories for all of us.
I realize that I’m part of this high-risk pool now. I’m in danger because I’m a returner too. And I guess that’s something I’ll have to bring up to Dr. McKee, among my other questions. Why exactly are the returners crashing back?
I’m not sure he’ll answer. And even if he does, I don’t know if he’ll tell me the truth.
•••
Wes doesn’t wait for me after class, and I check my messages to see if he replied to my somewhat dramatic good-bye this morning. But he didn’t. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. At some point, he’ll want to talk about it. Then again, he might realize we shouldn’t—not if he wants to keep his blissful ignorance.
The morning passes quickly, and I’m surprised when Foster asks us to stay in for lunch with him, claiming that in just a few weeks, we’ve lost the “purity of recess” by spending half the time driving. He said he wants us to get back to our roots.
We agree to this plan over group text, and Nathan tells us Jana won’t be there. Neither Foster nor I ask why, and Nathan doesn’t offer an explanation.
Wes doesn’t contact me, so either he changed his mind about lunch, or he’s honoring my good-bye text.
I push through the doors to the courtyard and find Nathan is already at the half wall, our old spot, and he has an array of snacks from the cafeteria laid out for us. None of us had packed a lunch, so he told us he’d take care of it.
I smile when I sit next to him, grabbing an apple first and taking a bite. I scan the courtyard, noting that it’s a lot less busy than it used to be. I don’t mind; it’s kind of peaceful.
“Hello, my dudes,” Foster says as he comes over. He sits on the other side of the food, and we all settle in. Foster isn’t fully recovered from the flu—the tip of his nose is still red, and his eyes are a little puffy—but he’s moving a lot better than he did yesterday. He’s no longer hunched over with body aches, at least.
“If I’d have known about this date sooner, I would have brought you soup,” Nathan says, studying him. “God, you look like shit.”
I slash out my hand and slap Nathan in the chest with a thud. He cough-laughs and pushes my arm away.
“Thank you,” Foster says. “And just in case that doesn’t add to my insecurity, Arturo decided to go have lunch with Jana and company. Why isn’t your girlfriend eating with us?” he asks Nathan.
“Because I didn’t ask her,” Nathan says simply, and opens a snack bag of chips. “Plus, I wanted to eat with you guys.”
“Aw...,” Foster says. “I love when it’s just the three of us.” He beams, his eyes glassy from after-flu, his skin sickly. Regardless, he’s still adorable.
“Love you,” I murmur to him, and pass him a cookie.
“So...,” Foster says, taking a bite of the cookie. “Nathan told me you were with Wes last night. Is he your boyfriend again, or are we trying something less conventional?”
Nathan tsks, annoyed that Foster brought it up.
“We’re friends... ish,” I say. “I don’t want his brain to melt down because of me.”
“You do have that effect on men,” Foster jokes, and I laugh.
“Besides,” I tell him, trying not to the let the emotions of the story take over, “I remembered some things.” I recount the crashback calmly, detached, and watch as Foster wilts. Feeling sorry for me, I’m sure.
“How about handlers?” Foster asks, changing the subject. “Notice anything?”
