The Best Laid Plans(34)

Finally I get outside and shut the door quietly behind me. The sidewalk in front of me is still empty, and I contemplate just sucking it up and making the walk. Maybe no one will be out after all. But then, down the street in the direction I need to head, a girl comes around the corner. She’s wearing a tight red dress and holding a pair of gold heels in one hand, walking fast with her head down. She passes one of the frat houses on the corner, and a voice rings out from the front porch, amplified by a megaphone.

“Hey! We’ve got a Walk of Shame!”

The girl’s head whips up and she walks a little faster. I duck, trying to hide, hoping the guys across the street will be too distracted by the other girl to notice me.

“Was it worth it?” the megaphone voice calls out. Another voice joins in, beginning to sing: “Lady in reeeeeeeeeed.”

There’s a clump of trees behind Dean’s house, and I run toward them, taking cover. Then I call Hannah. It’s cold for April, colder than it was the night before, and I’m shuffling my feet trying to stay warm. The phone keeps ringing and then, Hannah’s voicemail greeting. I end the call and try Ava and Danielle. There’s no answer. They’re probably all still in recovery from last night.

I wait a few more minutes, and then decide to call Andrew. I don’t want him to see me in these stupid clothes. I know he’ll tease me about it for the rest of eternity. Still, desperate times call for desperate calls.



* * *



? ? ? ? ? ?

    His truck pulls up fifteen minutes later.

Rolling down the window, he calls out to me. “What can I get for twenty bucks?”

I scramble out from the trees and hop in the truck as quickly as I can. “How about a punch in the face?” I fold my arms self-consciously over my chest, trying to block it from view. “Can we go?”

“I’m just kidding,” he says, shrugging and glancing over at me. “You look nice, actually.” He pulls out onto the empty street. “It’s just weird to see you dressed like a girl. Where did you get those clothes? I know they’re not yours because they don’t have sleeves.”

“They’re Danielle’s.”

“Right. I should have known.”

We drive past the frat house and I breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful the megaphone guys never noticed me. “Thanks for coming to get me. I know it’s early.”

“I was up already.”

We drive by Main Street where the craft fair is getting set up, zipping right past the turn to Danielle’s house.

“Wait.” I say. “You were supposed to turn back there. I have to get back to Danielle’s before my mom comes to pick me up.”

He turns to me and raises an eyebrow, a smile spreading across his face. “Collins.” He reaches over to pat my knee. “Do you really think I’m just gonna pick you up from a mysterious place on campus dressed like a girl and drop you off at Danielle’s, no questions asked? I’m gonna need some dirt.”

“Drew, I have to—”

“Let’s go get breakfast. Jan’s?”

Jan’s is where we go to get our cheese and meat fix—it’s a tiny little diner downtown with sticky counters, plastic booths, and the best bacon in the entire world. Andrew and I go there way too often, usually on mornings after the vegans have served us leaves for dinner.

He turns the truck onto Pinewood, and we see a collection of tents being set up, strung with woolen mittens and colorful baubles. There are people milling about, signs advertising local beer and hot cider. “Look, the craft fair!” Andrew says, leaning over to get a better look. He pulls into an empty parking spot on the side of the road.

“Drew, the whole point of you coming to get me was to avoid the craft fair.” I pull my phone out of my bag and check the time again. It’s 8:24 already. “I really have to go back to Danielle’s.”

He clicks off his seat belt. “Just tell your mom we’re together. She won’t be mad.”

I glare at him. He glares back, mirroring my expression. Then he picks his phone up and starts typing in a number, bringing it up to his ear.

“No talking on the phone while you’re driving,” I say, reaching a hand out to grab it from him.

“We’re parked.”

“So?” I don’t care if he talks to my mom. I just care about being seen in this outfit. I’m trying to avoid the general public until I can find a less ridiculous pair of shoes. I lean back in my seat and fold my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes as he talks.

“Hey, Karen,” he says into the phone, his voice all cheery smiles. “Everything’s great . . . I’m with her right now actually . . . Yup, earliest she’s ever woken up I think. A new record. We’re just getting some breakfast . . . Yeah, no problem. See you later!” He ends the call and turns to me. “See? She loves me.” He opens the car door. “Let’s go.”

I grab his arm to stop him. “Wait! I can’t go out there dressed like this. It’s obscene.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he says. “You look normal. Like, my aunt Mildred would wear what you’re wearing to church.”

“You don’t have an aunt Mildred,” I say.

“Fine,” he says, relenting. “I have a sweatshirt in the back.” He reaches behind me and rummages around, pulling out a navy blue Prescott hoodie. It smells like campfire. I grab it from him and pull it on eagerly, covering up my stomach.