Wrecked(34)

They all turned when Richard said that. He hadn’t meant to comment. But the beer loosened his tongue. He stared up at them and their revolving carousel of faces.

“Seriously?” Rob said.

“Trust me; I know,” Richard said. He also knew about the “house meeting” Todd was referring to. He’d bumped into Jordan shortly afterward.

Jordan had to give the college a list of witnesses, for the investigator, and he’d gone to Conundrum to give people a heads--up. It hadn’t gone well. They were furious he’d sub-mitted their names. What the hell, Bockus? pretty much summed up their reaction.

Not about the rape charges, he told Richard. They knew he was innocent. About the booze. Everyone was worried the investigation was going to lead to their house getting cited.

“I haven’t even told the Taylor guys yet,” Jordan said. “Not looking forward to that.”

“Yeah, the Doctor is going to love it,” commented Richard.

Jordan had shrugged. “Exley’s all set.”

Richard’s phone pings again.

No apples? This message includes a sad emoticon. The round yellow face sheds tears.

He can rally. Shower. Touch base with Justin to see if he can borrow his car. Drink water. Many glasses of water.

Give me an hour, he texts back. Pick u up outside the union?

Maybe he was wrong about being wrong about her. Which would be good. A double negative equals a positive, right? As he waits for her to reply, he realizes something.

Exley is all set.

He’s the other guy. The one other person Jordan told about the night with Jenny.

And he’s all set. What exactly does that mean?

His phone again.

Haley replies with another emoticon. This time, the yellow face smiles.





. . .


Pressed up against the wall in the darkest corner of the dark, packed room, Exley watches.

The bodies set in motion blur into one another, a fury of shadowed arms, grinding hips, faceless expressions masked in loose hair. An undercurrent of voices drowning just below the surface of the music, the sound a steady, rising tide as more arrive.

Jordan finds him.

“Best party yet,” he half shouts into Exley’s ear.

The Doctor nods, unspeaking. His eyes remain focused forward, at the center of the writhing room.

“Where are the girls you said were coming?” Jordan asks.

Exley tilts his head back, drains his cup. “They’ll be here.”

. . .





15





Haley


After hours of soul searching, Haley makes up her mind.

She likes Richard Brandt. A lot. Her gut tells her he’s a nice guy.

So she will go apple picking with him.

And she will tell him about Jordan and Jenny.

It will be awkward. Possibly awful. It’s an honor code violation, since she’s sworn to privacy. But the other options suck.

One would be avoiding him. Blow off apple picking, stop going to math lab, pretend she doesn’t see him around campus when she sees him around campus. Ghost him.

Another option would be not to avoid him. Go apple picking. Just . . . keep her mouth shut about the whole rape thing. Go about her business and hope she never bumps into Richard and Jenny and Jordan and, wow, Carrie all at the same time. Because that would be beyond awkward, bordering on cataclysmic, actually.

And fairly likely, given what a small campus this is.

So the only option is . . . candor.

As she waits for him outside the union, she feels a little nauseous. She can’t decide whether it’s nerves because this is sort of a date or dread because of what she has to say. Or both.

He pulls up in a battered blue Subaru wagon. Her hands are full (she thought it would be a nice gesture to pick up some good coffee), and he leans over to open her door. It’s warm for an October morning, and he wears a T--shirt and jeans. Old running shoes. As she climbs into the car she thinks he looks tired.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she says, slipping one of the coffees into the cup holder next to him. “I went to the corner store and got us pumpkin lattes.” Is it her imagination, or does he wince?

He pulls away from the curb. “So I have to ask you,” he begins, “are you always this bright--eyed and bushy--tailed in the morning?”

“Morning is the best time of day,” she says, laughing.

He looks stricken. “Oh god,” he replies. “She’s one of those.”

“And this morning,” she continues, “was the first in two weeks that I didn’t wake up with a headache. So watch out, Math Dude.”

Richard smiles, but it seems to require some effort.

“Rough night?” she asks.

“No excuses. It’s my own damn fault,” he says. He wears an embarrassed--with--a--hint--of--wise--ass expression. “Nothing a little fresh air and good company can’t cure.”

Haley feels the warmth spread across her cheeks when he refers to her as good company. Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts.

She’ll wait as long as possible. She deserves a little fun with this boy. Because depending on how he reacts, it may be the last time they speak.

The orchard is part of a family--owned farm twenty minutes from campus. Bright orange, red, and gold flags line a long gravel driveway leading to a big barn spilling children and their parents. A sea of pumpkins, gourds, and mums for sale takes over one side of the lawn; on the other, fields of gnarly trees bend, heavy with apples.