“What?”
“Feel bad for me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Because I had the chance to go to Argentina last summer and I turned it down.” Regret laces his words. He clears his throat. “My dad might not talk to me, but he pays my Ivernia tuition. And my mom might be stubborn, but she loves us. She gives Preston as much stability as she can. It’s not nothing.”
“I know it’s not,” I say, because it seems like he’s building up defenses to excuse behavior that feels inexcusable. I don’t say that, though. I can tell it’s not an opinion he wants to hear. “Why Argentina?”
“My grandmother lives out there.” He raises an eyebrow at my surprise. “I know. I’m white-passing, but my mom’s half Argentinian. I’m a quarter. I’ve never met her side, but I had the chance and said no, so don’t feel bad for me.”
It’s the second time he’s stressed it, so I don’t push back, even though I want to ask why. There are so many things I’m learning about Sumner, I realize, like collecting pieces to a puzzle I didn’t know I was working on.
“You know we need to stay here if we’re going to figure this out,” Sumner says, changing the subject.
I allow it even though I have a dozen more questions. He’s right. If William’s cosmic anchoring point is here, we’re going to need to make sure Ivernia stays open in order to have a fighting chance at sending him back.
“I had the same thought,” I say. “But how do we buy more time?”
“With the millions of dollars we don’t have?”
“What don’t you have?” William chirps as he rejoins us.
I’m careful to keep my voice low. “The means to stop a very rich man from forcing us out of here. He technically owns the estate.”
“Hmm,” William says thoughtfully. “You cannot afford his offer?”
“Me?” A dry laugh escapes from my lips. “No.”
“Then perhaps a wealthy benefactor.”
“Oh,” Sumner deadpans. “Sure. Of course. Let me go call them.”
“Not an option,” I tell William, though I can’t help wondering if a constant surplus of funds is how he solves his own problems.
“Well, you could always attempt a charity bazaar,” William says as he taps on his phone, watches the screen darken, then taps on it again before repeating the entire cycle.
I straighten. “A what?”
“You know,” he says impatiently, as if it’s something I’ve misremembered. “An organized auction put forth by your community. Selling tickets, providing entertainment. Raising funds.”
“Like a gala,” Sumner says thoughtfully.
We stare at each other. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first. We might not have millions of dollars, but there’s an extensive list of wealthy alumni who might show loyalty toward a school they once attended by offering services for others to bid on. If we’re able to raise an impressive amount, maybe it would be enough for a down payment and allow Ivernia to stay open.
I lunge from the couch and throw my arms around William, whose torso is much more solid than I expect. He startles at the sudden burst of affection.
“Thank you,” I say as I let go, my feet already guiding me to the exit.
Sumner sits up. “Where are you going?”
“To put together a plan.” I’m already halfway out the door when I turn back and add, “Before it’s too late.”
20
I stay up untilthree in the morning pulling together a last-minute presentation outlining how a gala can help Ivernia, then collapse into a fit of restless sleep after I send it to Ellerby.
My dreams feature my dad in ordinary settings. Tending the garden in our backyard. Beckoning me into his office to show me something he’s researched. It feels so real my chest physically aches when the last of the dream-state slowly melts away, like clearing a filmy haze from chlorine eyes. It takes longer for the tightness in my throat to subside.
