I’m still frozen in shock and panic when Michael rounds the corner, just done helping a girl find a rare, available copy ofDragon Witch. “Rani?” he asks, voice concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m going to throw up,” I whisper, and he uses his shoe to surreptitiously scoot the trash can closer to me.
“Talk to me,” he says, sinking into his seat and leaning toward me. “What’s going on?”
His eyes widen as I speak. He hurries to reassure me once I’ve finished. “It’s okay,” he soothes.
“No,” I say weakly. How could I have messed this up so badly? “It’s horrible.”
“But it’ll be okay,” he insists. “Valdivia will understand. You just need to apologize for the mix-up and ask for an extension.”
The idea of drafting such a reply really does make me feel sick. I don’t know how to explain away dropping the ball on the biggest deadline of the summer, especially following my promises to her in our lackluster last meeting. Working with Valdivia was supposed to be an exciting privilege, a shiny new line on my resume to set me up for the coming academic year, and in between driving and family stress and Kush, I’ve squandered the opportunity.
Michael squeezes my shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be all right, really.”
I nod though I can’t bring myself to believe it just yet. “Okay,” I say, already workshopping the email in my mind—and even in my mind, it’s a dreadful, inadmissible email. I burrow my face in my hands. “I need a moment,” I say, and Michael gives me another squeeze.
“Take it,” he says. But then he sucks in a breath, and I can hear the frown in his voice when he speaks. “What’shedoing here?”
Slowly, I draw my head up, doing a double take when I spot Kush perusing the titles in the center display, not twenty feet away. We made plans to drive and chat after my shift, but I told him I’d meet him in the parking lot, hoping to avoid exactly this encounter. He’s early on top of that; I glance at my phone and see I still have ten minutes left on the clock.
I can feel Michael’s gaze on me, probing and demanding. “We have one last driving lesson,” I say to the desk. “Since my test is tomorrow.”
“And that’s all?” When I don’t instantly reply, he heaves a sigh. “Rani,” he says, tone chiding. “Iknow.” I meet Michael’s eyes, cheeks flushing. “Aryan told me,” he says simply.
At my peril, I always forget how interconnected we all are. “Told you what?” I still ask.
Michael rolls his eyes. “That there was amoment,” he says. “Earlier this week, at the hospital, something about bring-your-kids-to-work day?”
There’s a beat. “God,” I say, face warm. “Boys are such gossips.”
His mouth quirks, but his expression quickly turns stoic. “Look, I don’t want to make you feel worse,” he says. “I know you’re already so stressed out.” He hesitates. “But I feel like you should know.”
My brows furrow. “What?”
“Kush and Meera have started talking to each other again,” he says.
I blink rapidly, not comprehending. “What do you mean?”
“They made dinner plans for the weekend that Meera gets home from study abroad,” he says. “Zara and Noelle both think it’s going to be a conversation about getting back together.” At the look on my face, he hurries on to add, “That’s conjecture, of course, but I guess he didn’t tell you about the dinner?”
“No,” I say. My insides feel gelatinous, hot and cold at once. “He didn’t.”
Michael’s lips press into a line, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Kush start to head for our table. “Be careful with him, is all I’m saying,” he tells me. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” It’s almost an exact repetition of Simran’s warning from a few days ago, and my chest feels funny at the callback. Michael slips away right as Kush nears, and I fold my hands on the table so they don’t shake.
“Hey,” Kush says, leaning against the side of my desk. He’s wearing his glasses again today, eyes bright behind the frames. “Ready to go?”
I nod, mind still spinning from the last thirty minutes. I can feel a headache start in the back of my skull, my body’s usual reaction to accumulated stress.
I’m quiet as we walk out of the library, processing on overload,and Kush rambles to fill the gap, nervous energy radiating. On another day, I would have found his chattering endearing, but today, it expands my existing uneasiness.
“—serious shortage in thePercy Jacksonsection,” he’s saying as we approach the parking lot. “You guys were missing two of the main five.”
“Because they’re popular,” I say. “Not because we don’t stock them.”
“Oh,” he says. “So the kids are all right.”
I can’t keep up the charade further. “Kush,” I say, massaging the back of my neck. “I think I have to cancel driving today,” I say. “I’m really not feeling good,” I add, and I must look truly unwell, because he doesn’t fight it, brows knitting in concern. “Can you just take me home?”
