“And here’s the thing, Carmichael,” Sumner says slowly. “This practical joke? I need it to stop.”
I fall still, not loving where this is heading. “What joke?”
“You already captured the trophy—which is good gameplay, I must say. Didn’t see it coming. But this?” He places both hands on the table, as if bracing himself. “It’s too far.”
“I’m going to need you to be more specific,” I say, wondering why the heck he’s drawing this out.
“Enzo.” He flings an arm toward William. “First you tell me his name is William, and he’s going along with it up until we need to get him his student badge—which is a whole other nightmare, by the way, since most of his things are lost. But he’d already pre-registered online, so it ended up working out.”
I swear I am trying to keep up, but my balloon of confusion keeps expanding. “He’s not from here,” I say, because I know that much is true.
“Is the place heisfrom Mars?”
My glare could burn holes in cement.
“I get it. Rural England, remote town,” he goes on. “But you should have heard the way he screamed at the ice maker.”
I laugh. “I’msorry?” I think I’ve misheard. “What.”
“You’re telling me he’s never heard of a MacBook, or a television, and when my phone rang this morning? He tried to swat it with one of my textbooks to get it to stop.” He leans in closer. “And when I explained Siri last night, he stayed up untilthree a.m.asking her questions.”
“I—” I begin but stop myself. I’m not sure what to say.
“Also? I thought my toaster was going to give him a small aneurysm when my bagel popped out,” Sumner’s saying. “Andthenhe took apart my microwave—”
“Why?”
“Becausehe was curious,” he says with heavy quotations.
“Curiosity isn’t a crime, Sumner,” I say, because it’s instinct at this point. Our conversations are revolving doors of bickering, even if we actually agree; they’re a challenge where one of us needs to walk away a winner.
I’ll never admit it, but I’m less sure of myself right now.
This isn’t my fault, is it? I’m not responsible for William’sproblem, and wasn’thethe one trying to tackleme? It happened so fast. When my mind replays it, all I see is damp grass and leafy brush and fine-tipped twigs.
“When I asked him if he’d called his airline about his luggage, he—”
“Shouted?” I guess.
Sumner glowers as he leans back in his chair. “I knew it.” He lookssuperpissed now. “I know last summer we—you—I…” Heat rises in his cheeks, and he cuts his gaze away, as if not wanting to go there.
I don’t blame him. I’d rather not relive my embarrassment. But if he thinks William acting unhinged is my way of getting some type of vengeance, he is sorely mistaken.
“Can you tell him to knock it off?” he pleads, and that’s when I notice the dark circles under his eyes. His glasses sit slightly askew, his waves more unruly than usual. He must have barely slept. “I need to concentrate on work, and the constant barrage of questions is exhausting.”
There’s a sound like heavy wood being dragged across the floor, but Sumner doesn’t break his gaze. So I don’t either. On one hand, I’m relieved I’m not the only one who sees it. The eccentric mannerisms, the odd questions. Maybe it’s rude to write him off as weird, even though itisweird he introduced himself by a different name. But nicknames exist, so really, it’s notthatweird.
“I’ll take him to the nurse,” I offer.
He shakes his head. “Already did. He’s fine.”
Tension loosens in the pit of my stomach. Okay then. He’s had medical attention. That’s one less concern to worry about.
Another loud scraping sound interrupts my thoughts. This time, Sumner and I face the distraction. William—Enzo—is dragging one of the heavy oak tables closer to us, which has now gained the attention from a few students in the surrounding area. Hands pause over laptop keyboards as eyes cut in our direction.
“What are you doing?” Sumner whisper-yells.
“You insisted I grab this table,” Enzo says, exasperated, as though it’s completely obvious.
