Frost

“If I’m leaving, it has to be now.” His lips glistened, deep pinkish red.

I considered changing my mind. It had felt so good, for a moment there. But then, behind him, I caught a glimpse of something. The closet door was open just enough so you could see my mattress. Usually I was so careful. I couldn’t believe I’d left it open like that.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’d better go.”

Chapter 31

THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY was the start of Barcroft-Edgerton weekend, our weekend of sports events with our rival school. Old bedsheets, spray painted with war cries and crudely drawn pictures, hung between windows on the big, brick dorms along the center quad. What Do We Eat? RED MEAT!!!! Red = DEAD. Go BIG BLUE!!

At the beginning of the semester I’d imagined Frost House working together on a banner. Ha. I readjusted the strap of my book bag and kicked at a lacrosse ball hiding under a cover of sunset-colored leaves. I leaned over to pick up a quarter, and when I stood back up, the quad spun before me. I closed my eyes to regain balance.

When I opened my eyes, the world stood still again. In the days since my Columbia interview, I’d been taking a regular dose of pills to counteract my constant “What now?” anxiety. Dizziness was a possible side effect, but I’d never had it happen before.

“Leena?” A girl’s voice came from behind me. I turned and saw red hair sprouting from under a navy Barcroft baseball cap. Nicole Kellogg. She stood with a short, curvy girl—another freshman.

“Nicole, hi,” I said. We hadn’t said more than a word in passing to each other since the counseling session. I’d considered talking to her about it, but eventually—when it was obvious she wasn’t leaving school—I didn’t care enough to bother.

“Hi,” she said. “This is my friend, Sera.”

Sera and I exchanged heys.

“I was wondering if you have hours anytime soon?” Nicole asked. “You know, office hours.”

“I’m actually not counseling for the rest of the semester,” I said.

“Oh my God.” Nicole brought a hand to her lips. “It’s not because of me, is it? That whole thing was totally blown out of proportion by my hysterical parents. I felt so bad you got in trouble.”

“Her parents are total whack jobs,” Sera added.

“No.” I shook my head. “I was busted for illegal offcampus. Stupid. Anyway, Dean Shepherd thought I should take a break from the leadership position, blah, blah, blah.”

“Oh. Good,” Nicole said. “I mean, not good, but—”

“I know what you mean,” I said, giving her a smile.

“Well,” she said, “would you maybe have a few minutes to talk to me sometime anyway?”

“There are other counselors, Nicole.” I was sure Dean Shepherd wouldn’t want me to have anything to do with Nicole Kellogg.

“But I know you. And it’s actually not about my own problem.” She fiddled with a button on her peacoat. “It’s, like, I just need advice about how much to butt into someone else’s life.”

“Oh.” I checked the time on my phone. Could the dean get mad (madder than she already was) if I talked to Nicole as a friend? I was almost too tired—too drained—to care. “Well, I have about an hour. I’m walking to town, and if you want to walk with me . . .” I glanced at Sera. “Unless you want to meet alone, Nicole. I have time after the assembly this afternoon.”

“That’s okay,” Nicole said. “Sera knows about it, too.”

The three of us shuffled through blankets of dried leaves. Winter would be here soon, and then spring, and then . . . God. Which other New York schools should I apply to? I needed to do some serious research. David kept asking about it.

“So, it’s like this,” Nicole said. “I’m in that freshman PE class, you know? Where they try to drown you?”

“Sure,” I said. “We hated it. Abby told them submersion in water was against her religion.”

“Abby?” Nicole said.

I waved my hand. “No one. Sorry. Go on.”

“Well, when I was using the locker room a couple of days ago,” she continued, “I saw this girl in the showers, and she didn’t look too good.”

“You think she might have an eating disorder?” I said.

“No. It’s not that.” We reached a crosswalk. Nicole readjusted her baseball hat, fussed with her hair. When the sign changed to WALK she spoke. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be gossiping about this.”

“Nicole,” Sera said, stretching out the last syllable. “It’s not gossiping.”

Nicole drew in a breath. “Okay,” she said. “Well, this girl had, like, bruises all over her body. I don’t know. Like someone’s hurting her.”

“Maybe she’s on the girls’ rugby team?” I said. “Have you ever watched one of their matches? They’re totally brutal.”

“I really doubt it,” Nicole said. “Her leg’s been in a cast all semester.”

Nicole never mentioned Celeste’s name. I don’t know whether she even realized I knew Celeste. But once it was clear that’s who she meant, I told her not to worry. That I’d figure out what was going on. I also told her not to spread this to anyone else. I was upset that she’d already told Sera, and who knew how many other people.