Page 11 of Bad Man on Campus

He shakes his head, his face going dark. “No. I’m not going to accept losing you to Sky’s ghost. I know for a fact she wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“How do you now that, Kace?” I whisper the words, desperate to believe them.

“Because she told me.”

I would have asked him when, what she said exactly, hope spiraling through me, calming the shuddering. But the front door swings open for a second time this morning, only we’re not in the distant safety of Kace’s room, so there’s no mystery about who’s letting themselves in this time.

“Kace—” His mother stops and stands frozen, staring at me with shock and hate and fear, combining for the coldest look I’ve ever had leveled at me.

“You, not you!” Her eyes swing to Kace, accusation and anger flashing and then tears. “I can’t believe you lied.”

“Mom, you need to—”

She faces me, takes a step closer, not matching my height, but her fury makes her seem large as she fills the lens of my vision, takes up all the space in my awareness, plunges me into the here and now with terrifying closeness.

“You need to leave. And never come back. You are not welcome here. Ever again. What you did—”

“Stop, Mom.” Kace puts his hands on her arms and pulls her out of my face, tries hugging her, stroking her arms to calm her, but her tears flow mercilessly, washing away whatever conviction I had about a new beginning with Kace.

Forcing myself to move, I look at him, shaking my head. His eyes plead with me and I want to stay strong. I said I was stronger than she is, didn’t I? She needs to come to grips with what happened, every bit of it. Including the parts that weren’t my fault. Maybe we can help each other.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Jennings,” I say. I give Kace one last look, dredging up a sad smile from the vestiges of my hope, remembering last night, insisting it wasn’t all a dream, and then I walk out the open door where his mom came in, bringing Sky’s ghost and our unholy past with her.

Once I’m outside I walk fast, not sure where to since I don’t have a car and there’s no way I’m walking all the way home in these strappy sandals. It’s only a mile and a half. I pull out my phone and click on the Uber app as I put some distance between me and hateful accusations. The car can pick me up on the next street.

It doesn’t take long for the car to arrive and whisk me away, turning my night into a memory bordering on the unreality of fantasy and nightmare. We pass a liquor store and the temptation for a drink stabs at me. It would feel so good to ease my tension and that perennial sadness right now. But Sky’s ghost plays an effective conscience, so I turn away as the car drops me at home and when I get there, my parents are out.

They’ve penned something at the bottom of the note I left them last night. They went to brunch, as usual. But the tenor of their words, the extra XO in my mom’s signature line, tell me they’re thrilled I went out, probably even more thrilled that I stayed out.

“At least someone’s happy,” I say aloud to no one.

I go up to my room and it looks different, brighter. With a lift in my chest like a bubble, I realize I’m not unhappy, not the way I’d been three years ago, and as if it were plastered on the billboard in Times Square, I realize I’ve come a long way since then.

Kace still has feelings for me and wants a new start. I’m going to St. Paul’s in two weeks like I’d always planned to and my parents are happy. It’s enough to get me through the day while I wait to hear from Kace.

That night, I go to bed early, partly to make up for lost sleep, partly to get away from my parents’ giddy questions about who I’m seeing. I decide to keep the details from them for now. It would kill them if things don’t work out. Not because they love Kace, though they do, but because they can’t stand seeing me sad anymore. I’ve come to realize we need a break. I need to give them a break from me.

In bed with a book, I finally hear my phone ping. Everything in me pings in response. I snatch up the phone and read Kace’s text.

He’s apologetic all over the place. The tightness squeezing my heart relaxes. He says he’ll see me on campus. He’s already there. He must have jumped in his car not too long after I left to make the seven-hour drive.

Kace: Call me when U get to campus. We’ll B OK away from Birchtown. Parents don’t have to know about us. Easy to keep us secret on campus. They will come around.

Me: Will U lie to your parents & tell them ur not seeing me?

Kace: I don’t know. Cross that bridge when I get to it. We’ll have time for a do-over. 2 jump in the deep end.

Me: No life jackets

Kace: Swim for our lives . . .

Kace: Call me when U get here. ILY

I text back okay, that I’ll call, but it doesn’t feel good, doesn’t have that happy reunion joy that I’d originally felt. Being his dark secret is probably where I belong. Maybe it’s all I can be.

The thing is, I don’t think I can be okay with that.

But then I’d have to be okay without Kace. A future without Kace is hard to picture, hard to imagine as having any joy, but it may be what I’m looking at.