The dinner hour in the Great Hall is winding down when I get there, so I take a few moments to pick what I want to stockpile in my dorm along with my to-go container, then start heading back using the less-populated paths across campus. I almost make it unscathed to my dorm when I see Tori leaning against the wall next to my door, a large box sitting at her feet.
She looks up before I can dart away and I steel myself.
“Hey, how’d your first week go?” She asks with a smile, but you know, fool me once.
“Super. ‘Scuse me.” I move to unlock my door and shove the box inside—I think it’s the clothes from Maeve if the scrawling script on the pink notecard is any indication—and close it behind me, but she blocks before I can stop her.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Not really.”
“Did you get my text on Saturday?” How could I forget? It’s not every day I get called a social-climbing whore.
“Yep.”
“Oh great! I wasn’t sure if I had the right number. What’s your schedule like? We usually meet in the library for a study group on Wed?—”
“Pass.” I cut her off. I already spend my days around gossipy assholes, why would I want to do it in my free time too?
“I—oh. Um, okay.” I can’t imagine why this seems to surprise her. She’s a smart girl, she knew how her friends would act when gifted a new toy to play with.
“If you don’t mind—” but she blocks my door when I try to close it again.
“Wait—”
“What, Tori? What could you possibly want from me?” I sigh, exasperation and exhaustion bleeding through my voice.
“I’m sorry for my friends,” she blurts out, but at this point I couldn’t care less, I just want to be alone.
I do just fine on my own.
It’s whenpeopleare involved that everything gets all messed up.
“They’re your friends, Tori. If you think how they treat people is worth apologizing for, then why aren’t they here instead?” She starts to say something but stops.
“You’re right,” she says instead.
Well, well, what a fucking plot twist.
“Can I shut my door now?”
“Listen, can we have a do-over?”
“There’s nothing to ‘do over’,” I say, adding finger quotes for emphasis. “You showed me around campus, shared the cliff notes about all this—” I gesture vaguely in reference to her little history lesson, “—and we parted ways. No further obligation on your part. Now can I please eat my dinner in peace, or are you going to intrude on that too?”
“I’ve heard people talking, Nyx?—”
“Congratulations on having functioning ears.”
“And I think you need a friend,” she finishes, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Great, I’ll take that under advisement. If you’re finished?—”
“I can help, Nyx.”
“Like you ‘helped’ me make friends on my first day at a new school after being ripped away from everything I had and thought I knew? That kind of help?” That shuts her up, but I hate that it reveals how vulnerable I feel.
“I’m sorry, again. For whatever it’s worth to you,” she says finally. “I have your number saved. Text me if you want to get coffee or something. Or just, if you need someone to talk to.” She backs up with a sad smile so that I can finally close my door and lock it.
