Page 51

I wake up with a pit in my stomach. Off to a winning start before I even open my eyes.

But when I open them, it’s worse.

Because Natalie’s gone. And not just in a woke-up-early-to-shower way.

Natalie’s gone, and so is her suitcase. Her guitar. Even our joint custody crooked rat dog. Her bed’s stripped totally bare;

she’s left the sheets in a folded stack at the foot of the mattress. Towels, too. Every single trace is just—

Gone.

It takes a minute for my brain to catch up. I just sit there, staring dazedly at her neatly stacked linens. Silly to fold

them when they’ll need to be washed. Even sillier to do it halfway through the trip. Except Natalie’s not—

My chest feels tight. There’s light leaking in through the blinds, voices in the hallway. I don’t know what time it is, though.

Or what time she left. I must have slept straight through it.

I paw around the nightstand for my phone. Tug it off its charger. Rub my eyes and tap the screen. It’s just past eight thirty.

I don’t have a single missed text. Not in our solo thread, and not in the group chat.

My brain’s still foggy, but my heart and lungs are in overdrive. I keep glancing around the room like she’s here, and I just managed to miss her. Like she’s going to pop out from under the bed and yell boo .

I tap into my contacts and call her. Even though I hate the phone with extreme violence and passion. Doing this for you, Natalope.

It rings once, and the call ends.

I switch to texts, stomach twisting. Nat where are you???? what happened

No response.

I try again. Are you still on campus?

Are you okay??????

Ellipses. I freeze in place, heart thumping.

Nothing. Then nothing. More ellipses. More nothing.

And then, finally: left early, on my way home now. i’m fine

My thumbs are skidding all over the keypad within seconds. Wait what do you mean??

Nat where are you??????

No response. She’s not typing.

On her way home—but how? It’s not like she has a car here. Did she call her parents? Is she taking a five-hour Uber? Can you

even do that? Maybe there’s some kind of message board for Blackwell students carpooling home. Lots of people heading toward the

city, I bet. She could probably even find someone from Westchester. A hot Blackwell freshman, no doubt. Women’s studies major

with a cute smile and an undercut and infinite capacity for self-reflection.

But, hey, at least it’s not Claire.

Suddenly, I can’t catch my breath.

It’s like watching a movie. Simon and Garfunkel playing in the background. Suitcase and guitar. “Homeward Bound.” Natalie,

sitting on the curb in her oversized sweater, with her legs stretched straight out. She’s messy-haired and sleepy, but she

jumps up as soon as Claire pulls into the visitor lot. Runs right into her arms. You really came , she’d say softly.

Claire would have had to drive the whole night just to get here. But it’s possible.

If there’s one thing Claire loves, it’s a grand fucking gesture.

My eyes start to prickle, but I squeeze them shut for a moment. No response from Natalie. Nothing but the nine words she already

sent me.

I open a text thread with Zora and Mark. Guys Natalie’s gone?? She went home and she didn’t tell me, and she’s ignoring my calls/texts. This is all she’s saying

I screenshot Nat’s text and send it.

AA: Did she say anything to you??? What do we do, can we send like a helicopter or something???

MR: a helicopter?

AA: I DON’T KNOW HOW THIS WORKS!!!

ZW: Hey okay, it’s Edith, Zora’s driving. We’re like ten min away from you

Zora says “first of all, we know she’s fine, so don’t panic”

AA: but how do we know she’s fine??? what if someone kidnapped her and forced her to write that

AA: I think Claire might have written it????

MR: Ok wait is Claire the kidnapper, or are these separate scenarios?

AA: Mark, this isn’t funny

This isn’t funny.

Isn’t funny isn’t funny. Is. Not. Funny.

It feels like setting a bomb off. Because it’s always funny. And if it’s not, I’ll riff my way through until it is. Kind of

like a person who buries every stupid feeling with jokes and distraction. Kind of exactly like Natalie said.

My phone buzzes in my hands; video call from Zora—but Edith’s face fills the screen when I accept it. “Hey! Sorry,” she says.

“Seemed simpler to call.”

“Good morning!” adds Zora, and Edith flips the camera for a second, giving me a flash of her profile.

“Okay,” Edith says, “we’re almost there. Are you dressed and packed?”

“No. Sorry.” I blink. “Just woke up.”

“Oh, you’re fine. No worries,” says Edith.

“Millie?” chimes Zora. “She’s fine, okay? I just heard from her.”

“Wait, what did she say?” I scoot forward. “Is she with Claire? Is she home?”

“She’s on a bus,” Zora says, and my stomach unknots, just a little.

“Which bus?”

Edith’s eyes flick to Zora. “Don’t know. Bet we can figure it out, though. There aren’t, like, a ton that go through here.”

I nod slowly.

“For real—you okay?” Zora asks.

“Yup. I’m just—it’s weird, right? Like, she’s on a fucking bus ? Did she say why she left?”

“Nope,” says Zora. “Okay, listen—go get dressed and pack up. We’ll call Mark, and then the three of us can head home and see

what’s up.”

“Home, like—Larchmont?” My head feels fuzzy.

“Yup.”

“But it’s Sunday.”

Edith nods.

“You’d have to miss a whole night here.” I shake my head. “You guys, no. You can’t do that.”

“It’s fine! It’s one day—”

“One out of, what—ten days you’ve ever had together? You can’t—come on, I can’t let you do that.”

“Millie, we’ll talk in a sec, okay? I’m pulling in. Go get dressed!”

I pair a rugby shirt with jean shorts, and I’m out the door in five minutes—just in time to intercept Edith and Zora in the

courtyard. I jog over, duffel bag hoisted awkwardly over my shoulder.

“Hey!” Zora hugs me. “Okay, so—”

“Zora, you can’t leave early.” I slide the duffel off my arm, letting it fall to the grass. “I’m serious. Drop me off at the

bus stop.”

“Nope. That’s not happening. Mark’s meeting us out here in a sec—he’s just taking a quick shower.” She looks at me, voice

softening. “It’s fine, okay?”

“No it’s not!” My voice comes a whole octave higher than normal. “She’s your—Edith’s your girlfriend, Zora. You never get

to see her. You’re not—you aren’t even going to school together next year.”

Edith’s already pivoting, gesturing toward a nearby bench. “Actually, I’m gonna let you guys—”

“I’m not stealing tonight away from you guys. I’ll figure it out.” I meet Zora’s eyes.

She bites her lip. “Okay, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Okay?”

“I canceled my deposit.” She shuts her eyes for a second. “From East Seneca.”

I stare at her. “Wait.”

“I switched it. I’m going here. To Blackwell.”

“It’s too late.” I rub my forehead. “The deposit deadline.”

“I got it in before the deadline.”

My hand drops to my side. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about it. I didn’t—”

“No, I’m—it’s fine.” I try to smile. “So, you’ll be with Edith.”

Zora covers her face. “I know how that sounds.”

“No, no—sorry, I don’t mean it in a judgy way. It’s—you know. I’m just, like, wow .” I nod slowly. “Do the twins know?”

“No—oh, no. I wasn’t gonna, like—you know. I’ll tell them today. I was most worried about telling you, though.”

I shoot her a sidelong smile. “I’m the one who was gonna freak out, huh?”

“No, no.” She smiles back. “Not like that. It’s just—we were going to be at East Seneca together. We had plans . And I’m pulling the rug out from under you.”

“No you’re not!”

“And I know how freaked out you are by change.”

I scoff. “Me?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Zoracle, I’m so chill about change! Did I or did I not just cut off all my hair?”

“Millie, you’re not making the point you think you’re making.”

Listen, I’m not saying I crave change—but I’m perfectly capable of rolling with it. Didn’t bat an eye when Uncle Mitch shaved his moustache, for example.

And God knows I’ve never once objected to a Claire breakup. But it’s not just the little stuff. I’m chill with major change,

too. Or, you know, I’m pretty sure I would be. Mostly. Hypothetically speaking.

I guess it’s hard to know for sure. My life’s been such a straight shot, for the most part. I’ve never moved cities—actually,

I’ve never even moved houses. My friend group’s been rock solid since kindergarten. I’ve never even painted the walls of my

room. Apart from Audrey showing up, even my family’s stayed exactly the same. I was nine, almost ten, at the time, and Mom

says I begged to skip school every day for a month. Just to be with baby Audrey.

When I leave, she’ll be the same age as I was when she came.

I press my thumb to my lips, ignoring the pang in my chest. “Okay, but this isn’t just a me thing! Nat’s liked the same music

since middle school—”

“And I’ve dated the same girl since middle school.” Zora flips her palms, smiling faintly. “Yeah, none of us are good at it.”

“Maybe we don’t have to be good at it. We just have to go along with it if they force us to,” I say.

“That is one possible attitude a person could have toward college, yes.”

I laugh. “I don’t mean it like that! I’m excited for college. But it’s like—the door locks behind you as soon as you walk

through it. You know? Once high school’s over, it’s over .”

“The simple past is, in fact, the most tragic verb tense.” She bites back a smile.

“You nerd. Wow. I hope Blackwell College knows what a GIANT FUCKING NERD THEY’RE GETTING—”

She tries to cover my mouth, but I swoop in first to hug her. “Hey. I’m really happy for you. And Edith. I’m gonna miss you

so much, though.”

“Okay, but it’s—”

“ I know it’s an hour away, Zorasaur. But—”

In my pocket: the unmistakable buzz of a text message landing.

It isn’t Natalie, though. In fact, I don’t recognize the number at all.

Heard a rumor that you guys need a ride home asap??

Then, moments later: This is Walt Holland btw!!! Sorry, got your number from Markiplier

*mark!! lol

Zora’s brow furrows. “Wait, what’s happening?”

“Huh?” I look up.

“Is she okay? Why are you making that face?”

“I don’t know. It’s not...” I press a hand to my cheek, trying to dial my organs back to normal. Looking at you, lungs

and heartbeat.

Walter Holland just texted me. Not a DM. A real text, like we’re—

Walt Holland. He’s Walt. We’re on Walt terms. A solid lineup of laughing-crying emojis from my good buddy Walt. I let out a slightly

hysterical laugh.

This is Walt Holland btw!!!

“Amelia, what?” Zora’s staring at me.

“Sorry! I’m. I think—I don’t need a ride.”

“No, it’s fine ! It’s not my one chance to hang out with Edith, okay? That’s what I’m saying—”

“No, I mean.” I pause. “Walter texted me.”

“Walter, like YouTube Walter?”

YouTube Walter. Who just texted me. I don’t know how to make it make sense. I legitimately don’t know how to make the pieces

fit into one puzzle.

I glance back down at my screen. It’s still there. Still real. I turn back to Zora. “I think he’s offering to drive us home.”