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Arrow and Salem are still going strong. Not that I ever doubted that they would.
He’s crazy about her. Every visitation weekend, he makes sure to fly over from California, where he lives to visit Salem. The rest of the time, they talk on the phone on Saturdays, email each other. Even write love letters.
I don’t know what she’s complaining about because her thing is beyond cute.
I raise my eyebrows at Salem. “Make him?”
She raises hers back, smiling slyly. “Yeah. I can make him do things.”
Poe jumps in. “What kind of things?”
Salem shrugs. “Things your virgin ears won’t be able to hear without blushing.”
“I don’t blush. Ever.” She throws us a coy smile then. “And who says I’m a virgin?”
“Poe, you are a virgin, okay?” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “We know that. So stop trying to be all mysterious.”
“Fine. I’m a virgin.” She sticks her tongue out at me again and I do the same. “And I hate you. I hate both of you for having sex before me. I want to have sex too. And you know why I haven’t had sex yet?”
“We know,” Salem says.
“You do?”
“Yes,” I reply. “It’s because of your tweed-jacket-with-elbow-patches-wearing guardian. Who sent you here.”
As expected, Poe’s face scrunches up with fury. “Exactly. Everything wrong in my life is because of him. Everything. Ugh. I can’t wait to kill him and dance on his grave and then have sex with the first guy I meet.” She turns to Salem then. “Until then you’re gonna have to tell me everything. So I can live vicariously through you.”
As Poe harasses Salem to give up all the dirty details, I turn to Wyn, who I realize hasn’t spoken a word in all of this. And the reason for that is that she’s staring at something with a slight frown.
Wyn has always been the quietest of us all but these days she’s been quieter than usual. And I hate that I don’t share a room with her or I’d prod for every single detail during our midnight chats.
I miss her so much. Her and her dream man stories.
Anyway, when I follow her gaze, I see nothing that’s worth much attention though.
There’s a group of girls, wearing mustard-colored sweaters and blazers, sitting on the concrete benches under the late February sun before the light goes out in the winter sky.
Oh, and there’s a group of teachers right behind them that includes my brother, Conrad. Who’s been the new soccer coach since last November. Since I sit out soccer games because of my condition, I haven’t had much of a chance to be coached by my legendary soccer coach brother. But he does check in with me a couple of times during the day, including lunch, when he brings me all the fried stuff that I’ve been craving ever since I got my appetite back.
Ugh, and right by my brother stands our history teacher, Miss Halsey, who has made no secret that she’s in love with him and would do anything to have him.
Even now, she’s almost draped on his arm, looking up at Con like he’s the most amazing man she’s ever met.
I mean, he is — he’s the best man and brother ever — but I hate that Miss Halsey thinks so too. I never liked her before and I don’t like her now.
But that’s not the point.
My friend needs me so I look away and bump her shoulder. “Hey, what’s up?”
She blinks as if waking up. “What?”
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly.
I frown. “Are you sure? You were staring pretty hard at something.”
She ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Uh, no. I was just… thinking about something.”
“About what?” I prod. “You know, you’ve been pretty quiet these days. Is something going on, Wyn? You can tell me, you know that, right? I mean, you have to know that. I love you.”
She smiles at me but sadness still lingers in her eyes. “I know. It’s just I’m stressing about art school applications. It’s end of February now and I haven’t heard anything back. So I don’t know if they liked my sketches or not.”
I get her nerves. I haven’t heard back from Juilliard myself but she has to know that she’s beyond talented and hard working and she’ll get in.
“Are you crazy? You’re the best artist I know.” I grab her shoulders. “Wyn, you’re so talented. So, so, so talented. You make me cry with your talent, okay? Cry.”
She chuckles. “But you’re pregnant. You cry at everything.”
“Ha. Ha. I’ve always cried at your sketches. Because they’re awesome. And everyone will love them. You’ll see. You’ll hear back from them, trust me.”
Salem and Poe say the same thing before hugging me goodbye and telling me yet again — Wyn joins in this time — how amazing it is that my gorgeous villain is waiting for me in his Mustang.
