Page 131 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

Grad or Die

DAISY: I am insanely jealous of this unwedding.

GWENDY: I’m more jealous of Lucas. “I love how ridiculous you are”? That’s like the dream, right there.

DAISY: *shrugs*

DAISY: With Lars, your dream is kind of my reality.

GWENDY: Ouch.

DAISY: Sorry, but you saw that the unwedding had paintball, right?

ME: Wait, didn’t you like twist your ankle at paintball?

DAISY: It was laser tag. And it led me to Lars, kind of.

GWENDY: Just have paintball for your wedding.

DAISY: I can’t copy Lorelai’s friend’s unwedding.

At this point, the message thread devolves into them each sending pictures, giving me the perfect opportunity to share some of Vi’s (and her entourage’s) best clips with the Grad or Die girls, Leno and Levi, and of course, Aurora, who’s also now jealous she didn’t come.

There are a variety of lower-level news sites that ran stories on the unwedding. There are photos of Brody and Vi slow dancing, as well as ones of them at the rehearsal dinner. There’s a hilarious one of Brody with purple paint in his hair and on his tuxedo and on his beard. (Given the masks, the last part almost has to be staged, but who really cares . . . right?)

A few minutes later, Gwendy shares a photo I hadn’t yet seen, from the end of the paintball competition. In it, Lucas is giving me the side-eye. Given the setting, it must be right when Brody declared he was Team Lorass, and though my attention is focused on Brody, Lucas’s face is 100 percent on me, and he looks loving and proud.

His lopsided smile is broad and transformative, a true thing of beauty.

48

HAVEN’T READ THE NEWS TODAY

PRESENT

My Monday classes are exhausting.

It’s the worst part about teaching. Back in the day, when I’d been a mere student, first classes had felt borderline skippable. Show up, half-listen to someone drone on about the syllabus that’s already posted online and grab a coffee with classmates you haven’t seen in a week or two.

Now? The first day of each quarter is always a flood of students trying to get off waitlists, no-shows of kids who decided they wanted an extended spring break, and endless administrative emails. There are always accidentally not-unlocked classrooms and a flurry of names, résumés, and requests for research, all of which I have no hope of remembering.

When I come home to the apartment, it feels strangely cold, empty.

Gwendy has already texted that she’s extending her visit with her grandmother. I know there’s something happening there, but given she isn’t ready to share the details, there’s only so much I can do.

Daisy is, of course, with Lars in Cambridge.

Which means I not only have the apartment to myself, I may soon be alone. Gwendy’s deciding between jobs, and though one of them allows her to stay in the Los Angeles area, which I know she loves . . . she’s been curiously indecisive.

Because I’ve picked up extra hours tutoring, because Gwendy too didn’t want to get a third roommate, we’ve been okay, just the two of us, but I’ll have trouble maintaining a two-bedroom lease, especially if Harper and Wren need to move in with me.

And really, they can’t move in with me while staying in their school, meaning I’ll have to figure out something . . . better.

I shower and, seeing the flood of new messages from students, decide to turn off my phone and play music through my laptop. It’s barely five and I’m already too tired to cook. Instead, I find some ramen and crumble it up in a large salad bowl, putting the seasoning on top, the way Lucas and I used to eat it in the old days.

I stare at the screen, but beyond selecting a playlist, I’m too anxious about my upcoming conversation with Lucas to focus. Still, I’m about to check my phone when there’s a knock on the door.

“You said Tuesday.”