Fuckers.
Chapter 14
Lucy
Thepeninmyright hand is making my fingers ache. The professor is talking about the implicit memory I marked a star next to in my reading on Sunday. She’s making the joke I knew she was going to make about the priming experiment. I don’t find it funny right now. I am a jumble of nerves.
The skin above the turtleneck is the part of me that is still slightly off. The swelling in my face has gone down completely. There is a faint pink stripe running along my jaw, hidden by the collar if I keep my chin level. The hives on my chest are gone. The under-eye puffiness is invisible to anyone who doesn’t look at me often. I can see it, but Gianna and Penelope swore up and down that I look completely normal.
I’m running on fumes. I had two sips of tea this morning and put the mug in the sink without drinking the rest. I couldn’tcancel today’s session. They threatened to pair him up with someone else, and my pride couldn’t let that happen. I feel sick to my stomach that he might see my rash. I looked like an ogre, and after his sweet kiss, I would hate for him to regret it because of an allergic reaction.
I exhale, wishing this hadn’t happened. I watched the clock on Tuesday, knowing that in an alternative universe, I went to that tutoring session and addressed Friday night. I itch my neck where the fabric is touching. I’ll need to take Benadryl before our tutoring session.
The professor moves to the next slide. The slide is about the misinformation effect. The girl two seats over from me — Kayla, lives in the dorms, knows me from a study group last spring — looks at my hand on my thigh. She looks back at her own laptop.
I check my phone in my lap, screen tilted toward me. There are three notifications. One is from Bear, a meme of a dog wearing a tie. Two are from Mara, asking what I want for lunch and then, three minutes later, telling me she got me sushi.
The professor says something. Everyone laughs, and then class ends.
Mara is at the table by the window with her hair in two French braids and a tray with two rolls of sushi for me on it. She hands it over, and I start eating. It tastes fresh and spicy just how I like it.
She tells me about a freshman she made out with at the party. Since Saturday morning, he has sent her four messages. She reads the messages off her phone. The first ishey :).The second iswas good seein u Friday.The third isu up?sent at 1:14 a.m. on Tuesday. The fourth isdo u like cinnamon rolls.
“Cinnamon rolls,” I ask.
“He sent it sober,” she says with a smile.
I laugh. It’s a real laugh that doesn’t hurt my lips. I keep it small just in case.
“Has Gianna been weird this week, or is it me?”
I put my chopsticks down. “What?”
“She’s been weird since the party. I asked her yesterday if she was good and she saidyeah, why,like really defensive about it.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been busy with my allergy.”
She nods. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
She walks me back toward the comm building at one fifteen and hugs me at the corner.
“Text me later.”
I nod.
I’m at the library by one-thirty, but I don’t go to the third floor. I go to the second floor and walk past the row of desks I have been working at since freshman year. The third desk from the radiator is open. It’s always open. I sit and take out my laptop. I work until I receive an email.
From:Camden Athletic Tutoring CenterSubject:Updated Session — STAT 215
Hi Lucy,
The rescheduled Tuesday session for STAT 215 (Benson Reeve) has been moved to this Friday at 9:00 AM, Library, Study Room 3B. Benson has confirmed availability. Please confirm or contact the center if this does not work for you.
— Camden Athletic Tutoring Center
Butterflies fill my stomach. That’s two sessions in seventeen hours. With him. In a room where the door closes.
I read the email again. I could decline and push it to next week. The office allows two pushes per semester before they flag you, and I have not used either. If I decline, I have to give a reason. I don’t have one.
