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“Not exactly.” I look around the hospital room that is a far cry from the ostentatious mansion that my father insists is the bare minimum. “But I’m on my way there, that’s actually why I called.”
“What’s up?”
I open my mouth to give her some sob story about how I lost my wallet and ask if she’ll Venmo me some cash. But the words die on my tongue.
“I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think I’ll be coming back next year. You’re going to be one of the few people that I’ll miss.”
I surprise myself when I realize it’s the truth.
Anya is silent for a few seconds. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, taken aback.
“This was supposed to be the year that you finally nut up and show the assholes at St. Bart’s what you’re made of. Where is the girl who marched back onto campus ready to slay? Please tell me it takes more than Drake Van Koch and a sextape to kill your spirit.”
I was expecting a tearful goodbye, not for her to lay into me. I didn’t think Anya had it in her. “This isn’t about Drake.”
“Playing that video was bullshit. The Havoc Boys are the ones who should be ashamed. Everyone who matters knows that. Use winter break to lick your wounds and then come back swinging. Seriously.”
“And what happens after winter break? I think it’s going to take more than a few weeks for this to all blow over.” My voice breaks and I hate that. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t actually me in that video when everyone will treat me like it was. “It’s going to be hard to face people.”
“Screw them all,” Anya says vehemently. “Havoc Boys are assholes and anyone who thinks otherwise is pathetic. Don’t let them chase you away. Not again. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
If she knew exactly what I’d been through, she might not be so cavalier about the killing part, but I get the point. “I’ll think about it.”
“I hope you do.” There is a staticky sound as the phone shifts at her ear. “I’ve got to finish packing so I don’t miss my flight. Remember what I said, okay. You have me on your side.”
I hang up the phone feeling even worse than before the call started. Doing the smart thing shouldn’t feel like giving up, but it really does.
The work here isn’t done, but I can’t stay to finish it.
I couldn’t even bring myself to ask Anya for money so I can get out of Drumville before I fall victim to another accident.
“Fuck.”
I toss the phone toward the bed. It falls short and hits the ground before skittering across the tile floor and underneath the bed. With a sigh, I get down on my knees to search for it.
At this point, I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t make this situation any worse if I tried.
“Looks like you’re feeling better.”
“Jesus.” My head snaps up with enough force that it hits the bed frame.
When my vision clears, I look up to see none other than Drake Van Koch standing in the doorway.
* * *
I scramble up from the floor and grab the water pitcher off the table, brandishing it as a weapon. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Drake steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. “I just want to talk.”
“And I just want you to get the hell out.”
“Not until you hear what I have to say. Will you please just listen?”
He takes a step forward, but then stops as if he isn’t sure it’s safe to get within striking distance. Spoiler alert: it’s not.
I stare at his face, at those blue-green eyes that I thought looked like precious stones when I first met him. All that beauty hides something ugly underneath. I should have figured that out from the very beginning.
