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I ignored his weighted looks over the next few days, promising retribution, and told myself as long as he didn’t act on it, it didn’t matter. I ignored the twinges of sadness and betrayal I felt when Micah wouldn’t speak with me aside from required art critiques, or when Devan only interacted with me the bare minimum during chem lab, and I ignored Garrett’s angry eyes on me. Instead, I reminded myself that I didn’t know these people, and there was nothing holding me here. While there might be some classes I would be sad to leave, as soon as my birthday came and went, I would be free.
Aunt Naomi’s credit card would get me a car to the airport and a flight to L.A., and then maybe I could start my new life and forget the entire past year had ever happened.
I only had to stay a little bit longer.
* * *
Professor Martinez clapped her hands at the front of my English lit class. “Group project assignments today. Don’t groan, you all knew this was coming. You’ll be in groups of three, and each team will be randomly assigned a novel.” She paced the length of the classroom as she spoke.
“The whole class will be reading all four books, and you’ll be working together with your group over the course of the next couple of weeks to write up a complete literary analysis of your book, and then each group will be leading a class discussion. The grading breakdown can be found in your syllabus. So, groups.”
Nora shifted in her seat and glanced between me on one side and Julie on the other, nodding at each of us. Professor Martinez didn’t miss the motion, and snorted.
“You don’t think I’m going to let you choose your groups, do you? Nope. Let’s mix it up. Nora,” she said, pointing at my roommate. “You’re with Carey and Peter.”
Nora muttered under her breath, but I didn’t catch the words.
“Let’s see,” Professor Martinez went on. “Stephanie, Julie, and David, you’re a group. Indira, Alex, and Carson, you’re a group.”
My eyes widened in horror as I glanced around the room. Oh no, that only left—
“Camilla, Devan, and Garrett, you’re a group.”
I let out a heavy sigh. It had been a week since the incident at the bar, a week since Micah had been out to the rock by the lake, a week since Devan had said more than five words to me in class. I didn’t know what I’d done, but I ignored the pang of hurt inside and kept telling myself not to care. I hadn’t come here looking for friends, and I only had to make it through one more week before I never had to see these people again anyway.
“Now, I need one member of each group to come choose a book,” Professor Martinez continued, “and then you can meet with your partners for the rest of class.”
The guys appeared to be in deep discussion across the room, and neither of them even looked up, so I pushed back my chair and stood. I followed the others to the front of the class where the professor was holding open a bag. Nora threw me an apologetic glance before she reached her hand deep into the bag and pulled out a folded slip of paper, straightening it out to read it.
“To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee,” she read aloud.
Oh, well good. I’d already read that, so it’d be less work. Though to be fair, if this project was intended to last a few weeks, I intended to be gone by then anyway. Sometimes I wondered why I put in so much work to finish assignments and keep my grades up if I didn’t even plan to stay, but it went against everything my parents had ever taught me to not do my best. Honestly, it seemed like a low grade hurt the same amount whether or not I had someone to show it to.
“Camilla, you’re up,” the professor said, breaking me from my thoughts. I realized I was the only one left in line, and I reached into the bag and pulled out the last remaining slip of paper. I unfolded it and smoothed it out.
“Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky,” I read.
Crap. I’d been hoping my group would get a book I’d already read too.
“Okay, copies of all the books are being held for you at the library, so you have the rest of class to pick those up and to meet in your groups. I’m handing out the rest of the project guidelines. Don’t feel that you need to stay here in the classroom,” she said, making the rounds and passing out a thick booklet of stapled papers. “But I’ll be here for the rest of the period in case anyone has questions.”
The students began to cluster together in their groups. Devan and Garrett still had their heads bent together, so I went to stand behind them and cleared my throat.
“Shall we?” I asked shortly once they’d broken off and glanced up at me. Devan had a slight frown on his face and seemed to be watching Garrett, but the dark-haired boy’s eyes were on me.
“The project?” I prompted, when neither of them answered, then snapped my fingers in exasperation before planting my hands on my hips. “Seriously, can anyone hear me?”
Finally, Devan pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “C’mon,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Garrett. “Let’s go out to the quad. We can talk there.”
Pulling the strap of my bag further up onto my shoulder, I followed him out of the building, and the three of us walked in silence down the path to the quad, where we found a shady spot under a sprawling oak. It was chilly out, but the sun was bright, and I leaned back against the trunk of the tree and waited.
Wind rustled the leaves overhead as a long moment passed. When Garrett eventually spoke, what came out of his mouth was the last thing I’d expected to hear. “Okay, Camilla, Devan and I will take care of the project. You’ll have to present part of the class discussion of course, but we can give you notes beforehand, and we’ll take care of writing up the literary analysis.”
My mouth opened, then closed again. After a moment, I settled on, “What?”
“Don’t worry,” Devan broke in, his expression a little anxious. “We’ll make sure you get an A.”
“Oh, good, because that’s what I was worried about,” I said, glaring between them. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going to let you do all the work.” Did they think I was incompetent? What was going on here?
