My lungs stopped working.
Did he just say…? I pulled my phone down and briefly noticed an incoming text from Oliver Bishop before checking the time.
8:01 a.m.
Oh my God.
Slade’s midterm.
I’d overslept.
Mothercracker.
I gasped before shooting off the bed and pressing the phone to my ear. “Noah, the test! I slept in!”
“It’s okay,” he said, switching to his soothing voice. I did not feel soothed. “You still have plenty of time.”
“I’m late,” I cried, fumbling around for my backpack. I stuffed my notes and a handful of flash cards inside before realizing I’d have no use for them on test day. I tossed a few extra pens in instead, just in case. “I’m missing it. I can’t fail—”
“Breathe, Emma. Get your things together. I’m halfway to your dorm.”
I paused my packing, and my grip tightened on the phone. “What? No, what are you doing? Get back to class! You can’t miss the test, either.”
“It doesn’t matter for me,” Noah said dismissively. “I’m auditing, remember?”
“It totally matters.” I darted to the closet and dug through the pile of clothes. Pulling up a shirt, I sniffed it before tossing it to the side. “I know you, and you have more pride than that. Even if it’s not for credit, you want theA.”
The line was quiet for a beat until Noah said reluctantly, “I guess you do know me.”
“Now go back! I’ll change clothes and be right there.”
He sighed, sounding torn. “Call me if you need me. I saved you a seat near the door. And remember tobreathe.”
I hung up and threw the phone on my bed before rubbing a hand across my chest to calm my galloping heart.
It didn’t work.
All I could think about was missing the test, failing Music Theory, losing my scholarship, and getting shipped back to Kansas on the soonest flight.
Shoving a hand back into the clothing pile, I grabbed a random pair of leggings and a pink sweatshirt before tossing them on my bed. But I needed to take care of my morning breath before changing, so I hunted down my toiletry bag and made a dash for the bathroom.
Halfway down the hall, I realized I forgot my shower shoes and skidded to a stop. After a brief consideration if it was worth it to chance the bathroom tile in bare feet, I doubled back for my flip-flops.
It wasn’t until I got back to my dorm and turned the handle that reality reared its cruel head.
The doorknob didn’t budge.
“No,” I whispered, refusing to believe it. Even my luck wasn’t this bad. “No, no, no.No!”
I jiggled the handle with each plea even though I knew it was useless.
I was locked out.
Dread settled in the pit of my stomach, and I cautiously looked down at my ensemble. Hello Kitty pajama shorts thatbarelycovered my butt, an oversized T-shirt that did little to hide the fact I slept braless, and bare feet.
“No.” I stared at my pajama shorts in growing horror. “This can’t be happening.”
My dorm key in the room. My phone. My backpack. My shoes. Mybra.
