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When I return to the dorm, there’s a note next to the flower.

Hope you’re having a special day!

What on earth? Why is he doing this and…why the hell does he think a day spent doing laundry in what is basically a prison would be special?

I return to the laundry room, working side by side with Louise, though she never speaks to me. I’m not sure why she dislikes me so much, but it couldn’t be clearer. She’s still there when Tommy enters and walks to my end of the room.

“I hope you liked the flower and the note,” he says.

I glance up to find expectation in his gaze. I’ve seen that look now from boys a few times before.

Shit. He thinks he’s courting me.

I should probably just be grateful that he's not holding what I did against me, but no...There's absolutely no way I want to be courted by Tommy. And I certainly don't want to end up with him.

My smile is forced. “Yeah. Uh, thanks.”

“You ready to go on that walk?”

For fuck’s sake. “I’m pretty beat,” I tell him.

He leaves, and Louise throws a metal cup hard to the floor with a loud clang. “You’re not even grateful,” she spits.

I choke on a laugh. “Grateful?”

“Every girl here for the past two years wanted Tommy and he thought he was too good for any of us,” she says. “Now you’re here and he’s suddenly all in. You didn’t even have to make an effort.”

My jaw is open as she walks out. I don’t even want Tommy. Why is she acting as if we’re already engaged?

There's a mint on my pillow the following night—bizarre—but on the fourth day there's finally something I'm eager for: Kappy's response.

Apparently, they sent her a screenshot of the letter along with a picture of me so she'd stop agitating faster, and it arrived in a package overnighted from New Hope. She probably hasn't even gotten my physical letter yet, if they bothered to send it at all.

I open it eagerly and begin to read...every ounce of my hope and anticipation dissipating as I progress through it.

Dear Grace,

I’m writing to apologize. I feel I led you astray by letting you leave your phone at my house to go to the party. A better friend would have told you that you were making a grave error in judgment.

I told you Ford couldn’t be trusted. I should have highlighted that fact, but the extent of your infatuation wasn’t entirely visible to me. If it had been, I’d have shone a light on the situation for you.

Please forgive me. I’ll always remember the times we shared.

Love,

Kappy

It's Kappy's handwriting, but it sounds nothing like her. She never once told me Ford couldn’t be trusted. It was the opposite, in fact. She told me what a good guy he was, even when I was so certain he’d vandalized my house.

She couldn’t fill the letter with references to the Kendalls sucking a bag of dicks, but...I feel I led you astray? I’d have shone a light on the situation for you?

What the fuck?

I suppose I should write her back, but I can’t do it now. I can’t pretend that this meek, penitent person sending the letter is the girl who was my friend. I wish she hadn’t sent it at all, actually. It feels as if she’s taken my parents' side.

I go to bed in a foul mood, rereading the letter for a third time before I blink out the light. I look for a pattern in it, for some secret word that has an entirely different meaning to the two of us. Except Kappy and I never had a secret language. We never even spoke in Pig Latin. There’s not a single word that stands out as weird...They are all weird. I dream that night that a bird is trying to peck its way into the dorm—a carrier pigeon with a tiny message wrapped around its foot, but I can't convince it to land.

I blink awake in the darkness.