Page 26

sixteen

I understand the life of a corpse better now.

And how they rot. Because that’s all I do on Sunday, ignoring everyone who comes by.

Curled up under my purple velvet comforter, on my bed, with my headphones on.

Only really moved once to eat leftover Thai food from my mini fridge while watching horror movies, picturing Elina as every victim.

On Monday morning, the last of September, I wake up with dread sticking to my shoulders like a wet blanket.

It’s the day I have Professor Hall’s class.

Seeing her and Mitch on a day like today should be illegal.

Especially when my flat iron doesn’t work and my hair ends up in a frizzy bun on top of my head.

Oh, and I didn’t realize I have a giant mustard stain on my NU sweatshirt I threw on before leaving my room.

But I go. Step after step toward Page Hall, my pulse pounds, having wishful dreams that the lecture will be canceled due to a freak accident.

After seeing Elina and Ryan so happy, my chest still aches.

My fake boyfriend turned into a complete asshole.

Who knows what will happen if he shows at the studio?

Oddly, Mitch doesn’t attend class for the first time ever, but I can’t relax about it.

Instead, all throughout the lesson, I constantly check behind me to see if he’ll arrive late.

Professor Hall calls on me once when I’m distracted.

I stutter a random wrong answer, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment, especially when she tells me I need to study more.

As soon as it’s finally over, I scan my texts, but Mitch hasn’t messaged me.

I grab a lonely lunch from one of the food trucks near the sorority houses, parking myself on a bench but barely eating.

The squirrels get all my leftovers. In the afternoon, I snag my gym bag and head to the studio.

But my feet don’t want to samba. It doesn’t matter because Mitch doesn’t show up there, either.

It’s beyond time for me to get a new dance partner.

“You just need to get over him, honestly. The only reason you’re so glum is because he’s the only one to show you attention.” Valencia sips her tea like she didn’t just shoot a dagger of insults my way.

Quad cafe isn’t as busy, given it’s almost closing time. Despite Valencia saying all the wrong things at the wrong time, I called her and Amelia over because I can’t sit in my room any longer without losing it.

“I’m sorry? Who are you talking about?” I ask.

“Ryan Cardell? The playboy hockey player. The guy from the restaurant, Penelope,” she scolds me like a stern schoolteacher.

“I don’t think he’s a playboy ,” I muse, but now that she said it, I feel like I was a fool. Is this what he does to girls?

Amelia quietly chimes in. “I’ve never seen him with anyone.

” She catches my eye from across the table.

“Other than Elina, but even then, they were always on again and off again. But even when they were on , it didn’t seem like he was into it.

” She clears her throat and glances around the cafe while stirring her iced coffee. “They fought a lot.”

The way she talks about him has me asking, “Do you know him? Like, from before?”

“Yeah. Our parents are best friends. His mom and my mom. His dad and my dad. So, I grew up around Ryan, but Aiden and Henry are closer to our age. Spent more time with Olivia until… Well, she and I enjoy different things now. She’s, um, she can get intense about politics. But Ryan was a one-gal kind of guy.”

“Huh.” That is more fitting for the man I thought I was getting to know.

Valencia shrugs and gets up from the table, walking toward the restroom.

Peeking out the window, Amelia says, “Pippi, you probably don’t want to hear this, but I’ve never seen him look at Elina the way he looks at you.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter now, does it?”

“You could be his mistress!” she says, like this is just a normal thing. The pit of my stomach churns with acid at the words.

I take a deep breath. “I just need to get over him.”

And avoid Mitch.

Wednesday is a repeat of Monday. Mitch doesn’t show up to class or to the studio. There aren’t any texts, either. Now, I’m beginning to freak out. Not because I want to see him. I definitely don’t.

But I’m worried something may have happened to him. Did he receive the same fate as Gwen?

It’s not like Mitch to miss lectures. Especially one in which we had our first quiz.

Fortunately, because I’m terrified of Professor Hall’s antics, I studied hard on Tuesday night for it. When I check my phone in the hall after we turn in our sheets, my score indicates that I failed with a note attached that says, “See me in my office.”

Swirling anxiety makes me see double. Is that really my grade? I know I answered everything correctly. It’s a subject I’m interested in and have been extra motivated to do well.

Part of me thinks I’ll pretend like I never saw her note and just go on with my life. Having to be alone in a room with Professor Hall would be terrifying. Worse, I’d lose my temper and might do something stupid if she started arguing with me.

Deciding to shelf the decision of what to do for later, I head over to the dance studio to sweat off some stress.

It’s been a long time since I wore my soft jazz shoes, but that’s what I put on, as well as some big band music, then set to work.

Which turns out to be a lot more fun than I remembered.

I’m free with my walk, my sashays, and able to flow with the tune however I want.

No restrictions or rules. Just feeling .

Between the horrific happenings on Massacre Monday, Gwen, Mitch’s awful declarations, and Ryan’s engagement…I’ve taken a ton of Ls this semester. Topping that off with a failed quiz is making this entire academic year leave a sour taste in my mouth.

And it’s only the beginning of October!

Fortunately, channeling all my anger into the movements helps me become lighter, more capable, and focused on solutions. Especially when I run into my twin brother on the way to the house from the gym.

Throwing his longer black hair out of his eyes, he sprints toward me with a shout. “Hey!” He tosses his arm over my shoulders as I lace mine around his waist in a tight hug. Smelling him feels like home in a way.

“Hey yourself. I miss you.”

“I just saw you last week, but I miss you, too.”

With a sigh, we walk together across campus at a leisurely stroll. “I’m used to seeing you every day from over the summer…”

“Same,” he says, bumping his shoulder against mine. “It’s weird not hearing you yell at the TV or playing your depressing girl playlists too loud.”

“Those are vibe-curated masterpieces, thank you.”

He grins. “Whatever helps you cry into your vampire books.” Nodding in Sigma house’s direction, he asks, “Want to hang out right now?”

A smile cuts across my lips, comfort settling my belly for the first time in nearly a month. “Yep. Movie and popcorn in my room?”

“Better than a stinky-ass room with three other guys, I can assure you.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

While we amble toward Sigma house, we catch up on the events of Massacre Monday and more.

“And then Apollo tackled Hunter Remington like he was on the football field. He called it ‘strategy,’ but I swear it was personal.”

I laugh, the sound foreign in my own mouth. “You didn’t get pulled into anything?”

His eyes dart toward the horizon. “Not this time,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve been laying low.”

It still feels as though Oz isn’t telling me something. And I’m not saying anything about Ryan.

Are we growing apart or just growing up?

“Have you been hanging out with the Marauders a lot?” I ask.

“Nah. Just doing Delta stuff with Apollo. Lex Lynx got in. He’s…something.”

With a chuckle, I try to remember the last time I saw Evie’s younger brother. “I can imagine.”

“Yeah. He brought a knife to the pledge interview and licked it.”

“Holy shit.”

“Blood was gushing all over his lips, but he just sucked it in like a fucking madman.”

As soon as he starts to drone on about Call of Duty tournaments with the Von Dovish boys, I tune out, but nod at the appropriate moments. By the time we’re climbing the stairs to my floor, he has me laughing again. A muscle in my cheek twitches from use. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to.

“Then what?”

“Then we ran out of toilet paper. Like, all of it. Not even any napkins left. It was a crisis.”

“So what’d you do?”

“You mean after we all washed our asses in the sinks until we got complaints, then started using neckties? We raided Theta . Broke in at midnight and took four super-sized packs from the upstairs closet.”

I stop in the hallway and stare at him. “Oz.”

With a smirk, he shrugs. “We left a note.”

“A note?”

“It said ‘poop emergency.’”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Effective, though.”

When we approach my door, I notice something hanging on it, and my eyes narrow. Each step closer, my breathing gets shallower. My heart thuds against my ribs. And when I reach it, my knees go weak as I hit the ground, a scream ripping from my chest.

Someone nailed Gwen Newsome’s skinned face to my door.