Frost

“Kicked out!” Abby sat up straighter. “Are you kidding?”

“I said we’re not going to be kicked out.”

“But it’s a first strike?” Abby said. “You know what that means? No drinking, no smoking, no illegal parietals or sneaking out at night. No anything! During senior year! If we’re caught doing anything, we’re kicked out. We might as well be handcuffed to our desks!”

“I know. I’m sorry. It sucks.”

Viv’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Abby said.

“Oh my God,” she repeated.

“Viv. What? ”

“Cameron,” Viv said, her voice quiet. “Freshman year. Before we were together. He was busted for drinking.”

“He’s on probation?” I said. How could I not have known that?

Viv nodded.

A weight dropped in my gut like a cannonball.

“Viv,” I said. “You know I didn’t mean—”

She pressed one hand against her eyes and waved the other in my direction. “Just go. Okay? Go.”

“Please, Viv, I—”

Abby glared at me. “What part of ‘go’ don’t you understand?”

Thankfully, the door to what was now Celeste’s bedroom was closed. I’d have locked it from the outside if I could.

Trembling, I took Cubby off the windowsill and opened the door to my closet, momentarily jarred by how uncomfortably large and bright it seemed, empty of clothes. But then the smell and the soft air reached for me, and I knew it was still the same. Celeste had dumped my clothes from the other room in a pile; it only took me a few moments to hang them up—everything except my ankle-length puffer coat, which I spread on the floor in one corner. The space wasn’t nearly as full as with Celeste’s wardrobe, but it would do. I scooted into the corner with the puffer as a cushion. No more worrying about Celeste walking in on me. And I didn’t foresee Abby or Viv coming to visit anytime soon. The thought made my throat swell. I breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent.

“What am I going to do?” I said to Cubby.

The ring of my phone from my pocket startled me. I only answered because it was David.

“How’d it go?” he said.

It took me a second to realize he meant the meeting with Dean Shepherd. “Okay,” I said.

“Really?”

I bit the inside of my lip, remembering. My voice trembled. “Well, sort of.” Then I started to cry. “Can we . . . I’m sorry, can I just talk to you tomorrow? I can’t really deal right now.”

“Of course. Are you okay, Leena? Have you seen Celeste?”

“No. Not yet.” And whenever I did would be too soon. “I’m sorry. I really have to go.”

I hung up, took off my glasses, and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyelids to try and make it stop. But the tears were too strong for that. I lifted off Cubby’s head. My fingers fumbled with the baggies of pills. I set aside ones I didn’t want. Found the one I did.

“Everything is ruined,” I whispered even though there was no need to be quiet anymore.

You’re here now, she said. It’s okay.

“But Cameron . . . . I’ve ruined his life. And Viv’ll never forgive me.”

Shhh . . . You don’t need her.

I wanted to believe what I was telling myself. Wanted to believe I’d be all right. But I knew it wasn’t true. Of course I needed my friends. They were . . . everything.

Bit by bit, a calm settled over my body. My tears stopped, and I slept. A deep sleep, not the sleep of someone who’s worried she might have lost three of the most important people in her life.

The sleep of someone who knows she’s come home.

Part Two

Chapter 27

I SLEPT IN THE CLOSET UNTIL surprisingly late the next morning. When I stood up, my limbs and spine hurt as if I’d spent the night digging a deep hole; my head ached so much I was ready to jump in the hole and be buried. I immediately took a couple of Tylenol. As the pills scraped their way down my dry throat, the events of the night before came back with more clarity, making my stomach hurt, too—the kind of ache that no medicine could help. I grabbed a clean towel and shuffled into the hallway. Celeste was just locking the door to the little room, dressed to go outside in a short, plaid wool cape, miniskirt, and the green beret. As if everything was perfectly normal.

“Hey,” I said.

She turned to face me. Dark hollows shadowed her eyes, her skin was dull, lips chapped—aside from her pulled-together outfit, she looked as bad as I felt. I’d thought I was going to have trouble controlling my anger, but much of it drained away.

“What happened?” I said. “We were really worried.”

“I took the Fung Wah Bus to Boston,” she said. “Bummer with my leg, but only fifteen dollars.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I leaned my back against the wall. “Why didn’t you talk to us before leaving? You do realize we’re all going to disciplinary committee because of this?” Silence. “Cameron might get kicked out.” Saying those words made me want to vomit.

“You weren’t in the room. How was I going to talk to you?” she said, scratching inside the top of her cast.

“Was it because of me and David?”

“Because it turned out you’re a slut like the rest of them?”