First & Then(37)

“Just to be clear,” Foster said when they broke apart, “that’s not how Zip Lip is usually played.”

Marabelle grinned. “I win.”





18


You’d think I’d be happy that night at the party because Lindsay never showed up, and Cas got stuck talking to Gracie Holtzer and her entourage for the duration. I should’ve been happy because the party was a big success. But instead, something in me felt like a slightly flattened football in the bottom of the bag at gym class. A little forlorn. A little dejected.

It may have had something to do with the fact that Foster kissed someone at that party, whereas I—three years older and I’d like to think a little more socially adept—had never kissed anyone. Ever. I hadn’t even been on a date since Kyle Morris and I went to the movies in eighth grade. And as scandalous as holding hands during a PG-13 movie felt at the time, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count as a real date if your mom has to drop you off at the food court.

But the party was really the last hurdle before the Reeding trip, and that was enough to pull me out of any little, temporary gloom. We were supposed to meet at school bright and early on Thursday morning that next week, overnight bags packed, ready to pile into Mrs. Wentworth’s nine-seater van.

I wouldn’t say I got stuck sitting in the front with Mrs. Wentworth for the drive. But I got stuck sitting in the front with Mrs. Wentworth for the drive. Figures. I guess I was the only one actually interested in Reeding anyway.

Except for Lindsay, it seemed. She sat right behind us, between Ezra and Cas, and kept poking her head into the front seat with little tidbits of information, such as South Carolina’s state flower or the percentage of students at Reeding who go on to grad school.

When Lindsay wasn’t acting as a veritable Reeding guidebook, she was talking to Cas. Although it might be classified as masochistic, I couldn’t help but watch them out of the corner of my eye.

Ezra was listening to music, but every so often Lindsay would pull one of his earbuds out and include him in the conversation. He’d respond to her in a friendly enough fashion, but whenever Cas jumped back in, the faintest flicker of something distinctly resembling dislike would flash across his face.

About halfway there we stopped at McDonald’s for a late breakfast; the guys ate an obscene amount of food, and almost everyone fell asleep afterward, save for me and Mrs. Wentworth. When I checked compulsively in the backseat, I saw that Lindsay had rested her head on Ezra’s shoulder. He was dozing, too, and he didn’t seem to mind being Lindsay’s human pillow. It surprised me—not only because of Lindsay’s choice of headrest, but also because Ezra was one of the last people you’d call cuddly.

We passed through the gates of Reeding University around eleven, and there it was: My postcard laid out before us for real.

There was the Office of Student Affairs, the porch where the postcard kids had sat. There was the Student Union, and the dorms (originally built in 1920, most recently remodeled in 2009, according to Lindsay on the ride up), the science building, the theater. There was a chapel, tucked away among a grove of trees.

They definitely had the curb appeal thing down. But it was more than that.… It wasn’t just buildings and landscaping. It was the people. Clumps of students studying in the shade or walking together between buildings, talking animatedly. These people were ACHIEVING THEIR GOALS. They were STARTING THEIR FUTURES.

And just being there, seeing it, it was as if all of a sudden something had opened up inside me. All of a sudden I wanted that, too, I wanted it for myself.

Mrs. Wentworth had scheduled the trip pretty much to a tee. On the bright side, it didn’t leave much time for Cas and Linds’s free vacation. But it was also a hell of a lot to take in. We ate in the cafeteria, did a campus tour, and met with admissions counselors.

The trip was accomplishing everything Mrs. Wentworth had in mind for me. I was in love with Reeding. I wanted to write better college essays. I wanted to score higher on the ACT. I even—albeit briefly—considered trucking the Future Science Revolutionaries to the science museum just to pad my résumé. Assistant to Sports Documentation wasn’t looking so bad now.

At the end of the day we stopped off at the bookstore.

“Ooh, Champ.” Jordan squeezed my shoulders as I perused a pile of Reeding hoodies. “You’re going to look great here next year.”

Just hearing someone say it out loud sent a little surge of excitement through me. “Blue does work well with my coloring.”

“And red and black’ll work with mine.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell Wentworth, but I’ve got a verbal agreement with Georgia.”

“No way!”

“Now, if I can just get Ezra there, it’ll be perfect. A defender’s only as good as the guys he’s defending, you know?”

I glanced across the store at Ezra, who was scowling at a display of key chains. He poked at one, which then fell off the display. He leaned down to get it, and when he straightened up, he bumped the rack and jostled several more onto the ground.

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Why are you such good friends with him?” I asked, watching Ezra scramble for the key chains.

He shrugged. “Why are you such good friends with Cassidy over there?”

Cas, meanwhile, was following Lindsay around the place, picking up and then putting back down every book, souvenir mug, and pencil she touched.