“Even if they don’t accept you, you should still plan?—”
“I don’t really want to hear what you think I should do.” I knew it was cruel to say, but it’d been cruel of him to bring up NYU. To introduce any ounce of hope that I knew I shouldn’t feel. I folded my arms across my chest, digging my fingers into my skin. “Out of everyone in the world, the last person I want to talk about college with is you.”
And the second that left my mouth, I wanted it back.
I was a hothead, especially placed side by side with the world’s calmest eighteen-year-old. Jamie stared at me unflinchingly, taking the sharpness of my voice without wincing. The darkness swirled around in his eyes, as clear as a storm cloud covering a bright sky.
“You’ll never forgive me for saying no to NYU.” Jamie’s voice was low. “Will you?”
The question was blunt, but very Jamie. He was never one to beat around the bush.
On the surface, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Columbia had a fantastic English program for Jamie, one probably more in line with his passions. An Ivy League school, unlike NYU. Perfect for Jamie—but not what we’d spent the last four years talking about. Dreaming of. Planning for.
The darkness swirled around me, dimming the sun. “You know what I won’t forgive?” I asked him, voicerough. “That you let me go an entiremonthtalking about NYU like you were going to go. You let me go on and on about visiting you on campus, that you could show me all the cool spots, thatyoucould live out our dream—and you’d already changed your mind. And you didn’ttell me.”
After I’d drawn the visually impaired octopus for him, that train of thought had become my consolation prize. I’d just live vicariously through Jamie. Even if my dream school hadn’t acceptedme, it had accepted my best friend, and at least one of us could live that fantasy. If it couldn’t have been me, at least it’d be Jamie—that was what I’d thought.
“You let me find out at Senior Night.” I set my jaw, swallowing the thickness that suddenly crawled into my throat. “Everyone was cheering on James Brighton because he got into an Ivy League school, and I just stood there. Holding my stupid bag of confetti like an idiot.”
Senior Night at Alderton-Du Ponte was a night dedicated to high school graduates, a ceremony announcing where everyone was going to college so the “high society” could congratulate them. Brag about them. Even though I wouldn’t go up on stage, I’d gone to cheer my best friends on, bringing confetti and preparing to be the loudest cheerer in the audience.
They’d announced Nellie—Eleanor—first: Mullhound College. I’d cheered.
And then Jamie: Columbia University. I’d been silent.
Jamie’s face screwed up as if I’d slapped him, shoulders rising with a sharp breath in and a slower breath out. “Like you said. The last person in the world you want totalk about college with is me. So let’s just not.” His jaw tightened like he was biting back something else.
Jamie backing down only had me chasing after him. My body trembled with the confrontation. This was worse than our argument at the beach. Way worse. But something bit into me, like a dog with a bone, refusing to let me go. I stepped up to the edge of the top step. “I just don’t understand. We’ve talked about NYU since the day we met.”
“Which part are you mad about? That I chose Columbia over NYU or that I didn’t tell you?”
“Both.”
“Both.” Jamie gave one hollow laugh, reaching up and squeezing the spot between his shoulder and his neck. His eyes were everywhere but on mine, as if he couldn’t bear to do it. “Both.”
“Because you didn’t tell me! Because that isn’t our dream?—”
“No, it isn’tyour dream.” Finally, finally, Jamie lifted his chin again, but when he looked up at me, his eyes were shining with something even darker than before. They glistened almost, like they had unshed tears. “You get to be mad at me for choosing Columbia, but I can’t be mad at you for giving up on your dream?”
Seeing his watery eyes had my own stinging. “I was waitlisted?—”
“Byone school. There are other programs outside of NYU. Parsons, Pratt, SVU—but you didn’t apply to any of them. Your grades were excellent. You’re talented. You could’ve gotten scholarships, could’ve gotten into anyprogram in the country, but you didn’t. Why? Just because one stupid school didn’t accept you, that’s it? You don’t deserve to be an artist?”
My chest began feeling tighter and tighter. “Jamie?—”
“Or is it because someone else told you that you weren’t good enough?”
I recoiled.It’s a little silly to hear you talk about NYU like you’ll go.
“You say you don’t understand why I didn’t accept NYU, butIdon’t get why you listen to a guy who didn’t like the most important thing about you. Your art.”
“He understands more now,” I said softly, feeling strange as his voice grew rougher.
“Heunderstands more now,” Jamie echoed, chest rising and falling fast. The line between his brows was livid and sharp now. “Funny that he clarifiesnow. And you’ll believe anything he tells you, but you don’t listen to me when I tell you that you’re the most talented artist I’ve ever met.”
The words were laced with something strong, like fury but not so angry. Or maybe hewasangry, looking at me with his brown eyes blazing, but it was a different sort of anger. A shining sort that made him almost unrecognizable. “Y-You’ve never said that before.”
“Then you don’t listen to me. Then I’m invisible to you, because,jeez, Daisy?—”
