Wish You Were Gone(27)

Alexa snorted and Felicity scowled at her. Kelsey could see this conversation going very wrong very quickly. “Thanks. That sounds great.”

“Cool. So, listen, I have to ask.” She leaned in slightly, still holding her tray full of salad. “Were you there? You know, when it happened?”

Kelsey stiffened.

“Why are you even here?” Alexa snapped. “Go sit with your little posse and snapchat your caloric intake for the day. Go on.” She flicked her fingers.

“You don’t have to be a bitch, Osaka,” Felicity said. “I’m just talking to her.”

“No you’re not. You’re exploiting her for gossip,” Alexa said, lifting another fry full of ketchup.

“Alexa, don’t,” Kelsey said.

“Don’t what?” Felicity asked, clueless.

Alexa pulled the fry back and—

“Is there a problem here?”

It was Mrs. Tisch. Alexa shoved the French fry in her mouth.

“No problem,” Jason said, going red at the sight of a teacher. “Felicity was just leaving.”

Felicity made a huffing noise and strolled away, nose in the air, like she was on a catwalk. Everyone at the table, including Mrs. Tisch, followed her with their eyes until she was seated on the other side of the room. Sometimes, Kelsey thought if she could just learn to walk like that, all her earthly problems would be solved.

“Kelsey, can I see you in the hallway?” Mrs. Tisch asked.

Kelsey’s core body temperature was roughly one million degrees Kelvin. Between Willow being all up in her business, the encounter with Felicity, and recalling the last conversation she’d had with Mrs. Tisch, she felt like she could seriously punch something. She shoved her chair back and speed-walked outside to the patio, realizing that Mrs. Tisch probably meant the hallway or her office and not caring. She sucked in fresh air and blew it out slowly, wondering why in the name of Taylor Swift she was on the verge of tears.

Through the wall of windows, she could see Willow watching her. What did she want from Kelsey? To move into her room? To wear her skin? What?

“Hey, hey. Are you all right?” Mrs. Tisch laid a comforting hand on Kelsey’s back.

“I’m fine.” Kelsey forced herself to look the teacher in the eye. Would people ever stop looking at her like that? Like she was a pathetic loser on the verge of a nervous breakdown? “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Maybe she was going to warn Kelsey that she wasn’t getting a part. Or give her a definitive no on the recommendation letter. Where was Mr. Fletcher? Didn’t he have the balls to come tell her himself that he was taking away her one shot at happiness? They just didn’t understand. She had to get out of this school that was her father’s dream for her. She needed to be around people who didn’t know who her dad was or care. If Daltry accepted her application for a midyear transfer, she might be able to convince her teachers to let her do the rest of this semester’s course work from home. It was all right there within her grasp. Things would be better at home without her dad. Things would be better at school if she were at Daltry. Everything would just be better.

“I read your essay for Daltry and it’s great,” Mrs. Tisch said. “Thanks for sending it to me. It reminded me of why I thought you’d be such a perfect candidate in the first place. So, I just wanted to give you this.” She held out a sealed envelope, writing scrawled across the flap.

Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Is that—”

Mrs. Tisch nodded, smiling. “They make you sign the envelope after you seal it so they know it’s confidential, but I emailed you a copy. I thought you’d want to read how exceptional I think you are.”

“Oh my God, Mrs. Tisch!” Kelsey blushed and her eyes burned all over again. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure, Kelsey. Though we really will miss you,” the teacher said, clutching her own hands. “And don’t tell anyone I told you this, but you’re going to want to check the call-back list first thing after school today. I was really impressed, Kelsey. Really impressed.”

“Thank you!” Kelsey beamed, trying not to crush the precious envelope in her sweaty palm, or focus on the fact that her teacher had just intimated that she had a shot at a real part. Screw Felicity. Screw her dad. Screw this whole damn school. Everything was turning around. “I’ll be there.”





GRAY


“You’re here late.”

Gray looked up from the character reference she was vetting for one of her nastier divorce cases—she was repping the kind-but-gullible husband of a woman who had won a small lottery prize and disappeared on her husband and kids for four straight years before coming back and trying to claim their house—and saw her administrative assistant, Tameeka Phillips, hovering in her doorway.

“Yes, this was just so engrossing I lost track of time,” Gray replied. This was a lie. She hadn’t lost track of time—she simply hadn’t wanted to go home and stare at the clock waiting to see if Darnell would text or call. Better to be here where she could keep busy—and rack up billable hours. “Did you need something?”

“No,” Tameeka said. “Just wanted to check you didn’t need anything.”