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She turns to go. At the bottom of the stairs, she turns back to me. “Kellan?”
“Yeah.”
“Last night was—crazy. Like the wolf.”
She walks back upstairs, and I laugh. That’s me. I’m crazy like the wolf.
MY SCHOOL DAY IS DOMINATED by a run-in with Milasy. I pass her on the concourse and can’t miss the Gucci boots she has on—mine: the tan ones that are knee-high. I’m walking with Lora, talking for the first time since the other night, and Milasy glares at her as if she’s doing something wrong.
Before I can even ask Lora what’s up, Milasy is in front of us, with her hands on her hips and her dark hair flowing in the humid breeze.
“Lora—what did we talk about?” she asks, not looking at me.
“Yeah I know, but—”
“But?” Milasy asks.
“Cleo is my lab partner,” Lora lies.
Milasy’s face is unreadable, so I’m surprised when she says, “Find another partner.”
As soon as she stalks off, Lora pulls me into the nearest building—an aviation science lab—and tells me Milasy has told some of the Tri-Gams that I’m blacklisted.
“
She didn’t tell us why, just that you’re sort of like... suspended. I was going to tell you...” Lora bites her lip.
“It’s fine,” I say—even though it isn’t. Lora is supposed to be my good friend. I don’t think I’ve missed a single call from her in the last day or two. Nor has she sought me out, except a few minutes ago when we bumped into each other on our walk to the west side of campus.
We part ways outside the aviation lab, and Lora promises to call me later.
As soon as I get into my next class, Art as Self-Expression, another Tri-Gam, Sally, asks about my grandmother.
“What?” I frown.
“Milasy told us you’ve been home a lot, because she’s... Well, Milasy says she’s not doing so good.”
Perfect.
Another girl, a freshman named Christine, confirms this as I leave that class. She pats me on the arm as we pass one another in the lobby of the psych building and says, “I’m thinking of you, darlin’.”
I plant myself under my favorite willow tree to kill a little time before my next class, biology II, and as I step inside that classroom, my phone vibrates with a text from Kellan.
‘Pick u up at 4:30 behind Taylor?’
‘PLEASE.’
When I drag my tired ass into the parking lot at 4:32, he’s waiting in the Sexcalade. I experience a bolt of glee, like a lab rat presented with a carrot.
I slide into the passenger’s seat and quickly size him up. He looks nice: same dark jeans and emerald green button-up he had on when he dropped me off, so I can’t explain why the sight of him makes my heart do backflips. I notice his hair is a little wind-blown, I guess because he has his window down.
I give him a small smile. “How was your day?”
He lifts a shoulder. “How was yours?”
I drop my head into my hand. “It was tedious and tiring. I’m grumpy. And can’t wait to get away from campus.”
“I know something you might like.” He looks surprisingly light-hearted.
