The Best Possible Answer(17)

She held my arm, led me to the bathroom, where I collapsed on the cold tile floor.

“I. Can’t. Breathe.”

I vaguely remember the body spasms, the hot flashes of terror in my chest, the floor like a sinkhole. I could have melted into it.

I could have lost complete control.

But she didn’t let me. Instead, she held me, patted wet paper towels against my forehead. She rubbed my back. She sat with me for an hour, until I was able to breathe again, and then she snuck me out of the building, led me to a park down the street, where she lay with me in the grass and told me to cry.

The next day, her math teacher called her up to the front of the room and chided her, in front of everyone, about cutting class. Sammie walked out and went straight to Ms. McKee, telling her about Jared and what he’d done to me.

The news of my promiscuity was quickly replaced by the news of Jared’s expulsion, and thereafter, the stares stopped. It turns out that for Uni nerds, the fear of banishment is more powerful than the thrill of a good scandal. Sometimes I still find printed copies of the photo deposited anonymously in my locker or I’ll hear whispers behind me, but considering how bad it was, I’ve survived the rest of the semester with relative ease. And I have Sammie to directly thank for that.





College Admissions Tip #4

REMINDER: Junior Year Grades Are Essential!

These grades are the last that the admissions boards will see, and they can determine your college fate. They show that you’re ready for the big time. This is your best chance to impress!


Sammie and I still have to endure the torture of school for another two weeks, but since the APs and Sammie’s play are over (she had the lead role, of course, of Abigail in The Crucible), we’re scheduled to work afternoons until school’s out, when we’ll be able to work mornings, too. By our shift Tuesday afternoon, the pool is nearly deserted, just as Sammie predicted.

The afternoon is quiet and lazy, which is good, because I need the time to study for finals, even with the nausea and dizziness that come and go in waves, which I tell no one about. The only productive thing I can really do, other than leave town from the public shaming, is focus on getting through it without completely bombing all my classes.

Sammie’s reading horoscopes on her phone, and as much as I try to remind her that I need to study, she continues to interrupt me with forecasts regarding my health and career over the next year.

About twenty minutes before closing, Evan approaches from the deck. He sits down on the counter and hovers over us. “Whatcha reading?”

Sammie lights up. “What’s your sign? Wait—let me guess. Scorpio?”

“I have no idea. March twenty-ninth?”

“Aries. Of course. I totally see that.”

“How, exactly, do you see that?”

“Aries are, like, pure energy, confident and adventurous. I see that in you.”

“Well, thanks,” he says, and then he pokes at my book. “What’s your sign, Vivi?”

Ugh. Please don’t do this. Talk to Sammie instead.

I ignore him long enough that Sammie answers for me. “She’s a moody Cancer. I’m a Leo. Aries and Leos have a high affinity. Did you know that?” She doesn’t say that Cancers and Aries have the lowest compatibility possible on the zodiac, but I know she wants to.

“You really believe this stuff?” Evan asks. “I mean, it can’t really predict the future, so why bother reading it?”

“You’d be surprised! I usually read it at the end of the day to see if it was right, and more often than not, it is. A lot of our energy is written in the movement of the planets.”

“But what about for people who get really sick or die? It never says, ‘When Neptune passes the fourth moon of Pluto this Tuesday at noon, avoid walking under cranes or you’ll be a flattened mess of blood and bones.’”

“Of course not. But it might say that it’s a good time to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book.”

“When isn’t it a good time to curl up with a good book?” He laughs and turns to me. Again. “Are you also reading about the mystical secrets of planetary alignments?”

I lift up my physics textbook and shake my head no. I don’t want to get into a conversation with him. I want him to focus on Sammie, not me. At least, that’s what I remind myself.

Evan leans over my book. “Does science have anything to say about Saturn’s impact on human destiny?”

I can’t help but laugh, but this makes Sammie frown.

I’m about to say that I think it’s fun anyway, when Professor Cox walks up to sign out. “What do you want to know about human destiny?” He’s shivering and shaking, dripping wet, and standing less then two feet away, but he yells this as though he’s lecturing in a classroom.

“Hey, Professor,” Evan says. “Perfect timing! Here’s the question of the day. Horoscopes: yea or nay?”

Professor Cox lifts his towel to wipe his forehead. “If you’re asking if it’s possible to change the future, there is no scientific evidence, of course.”

“My point exactly!” Evan says. “It’s a waste of time. It doesn’t actually do anything.”

Sammie clicks off her phone and stuffs it in her bag.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “Why does it bother you so much? If we read our horoscopes or not?”