That doesn’t make sense… Thinking back, I don’t remember there being the usual sea of text alerts when I got the message. Was I the only person who did? Why?
“So what do we do? How do we not get expelled?” I ask her. This is starting to feelveryreal. Even more real than before.
“I don’t know.” Chiamaka pinches her nose and sighs. “I need to go home and think. I’ll be in touch,” she says. Then she moves past me and disappears through the dark oak double doors, leaving me here with my thoughts.
Alone.
PART TWO
X MARKS THE SPOT
16
CHIAMAKA
Tuesday
It’s unexpected—Belle approaching me on my walk home.
I do a lot of that now—walking. Since the accident, I haven’t been able to drive without having a full-blown panic attack. It’s funny—last year I begged my parents for a car, and now I can’t even bring myself to drive it.
“Hi,” she says, startling me out of my depressing thoughts about the USB I found in my locker and Ward taking my badge.
I don’t say anything to her at first, because I feel like I’m hallucinating her being here. Why would she be talking to me? I extend my hand slightly, reaching out to touch her, make sure she’s real. But I stop myself, in case sheisreal and thinks I’m weird for doing that.
“Hello,” I say back.
“I was a bit harsh to you yesterday… I’m sorry,” she says—which is even weirder, because it should be me apologizing. I mean, I did sleep with her boyfriend and then lie about it, even if I didn’t know they were going out when Jamie and I were still sneaking around.
“I came to ask about your side of the story. I always told myself that if there was ‘another woman,’ I wouldn’t do the basic thing and fight the girl and not the guy, but that’s exactly what I did.”
Belle’s cheeks are dusted pink from the cold, her blond curls trapped beneath a gray beret. Her eyes look so open and kind, but I can’t help feeling strange about this. Why does she suddenly want to talk to me after everything? Especially now that someone is trying to get me kicked out, andespeciallysince Belle is also applying to Yale, which, in the entire history of our school, has only accepted one applicant each year. I know it sounds stalkerish but I did some digging on my Yale competition months ago—I wasn’t being creepy or anything. I just needed to know who I’m up against.
“Truthfully…,” I start, stopping to think about whether telling her anything would make matters worse. “I did like Jamie, and it’s silly because it should have been clear to me that it was just sex—”
Okay, way too truthful, reel it in a little.
“But he was my best friend. I should have known he didn’t like me like that.”
Belle shakes her head. “Then why would he sleep with you? I want to believe that this is one-sided and blame you, but I can’t.”
I don’t know what she wants me to say.
“You should blame me and move on. It’s easier that way. I can’t explain anything Jamie ever does.”
I try walking ahead but she catches up to me.
“Who initiated things between you two?”
“He did,” I say, blinking fast. “But we both did it, and I wanted to. I can’t tell you what his reasons were, but I wanted to be with him, so why would I say no? I felt like things could work out for us somehow… then he tells me he’s with you now and that it meantnothing, and I feel like I mean nothing and I—” Once I start, I can’t stop. There’s a pressure in my chest, like I have had this weight here forever. “That’s just who Jamie is.”
Belle looks at me, shocked.
“Jamie’s a dickhead,” she says.
I don’t know why my first instinct is to defend him, but admitting all that out loud makes me stop and think.
I never really question whether Jamie doing bad things makes him a bad person. Everyone does bad things sometimes, makes poor choices. I know that more than anyone.
