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‘I just don’t think school will listen.’
‘You haven’t even asked.’ He sets down his knife and fork. ‘Okay, put it this way. Say if, theoretically, you ate meat every day, and you cut down your consumption to once a month. That’s reducing 365 meals a year to 12. That’s a massive difference. Imagine if everyone in the world cut down. The demand for meat would plummet, and that’s without asking anyone to stop eating meat entirely. Even indulging once every fortnight would make a difference. I think you’re onto something here. You should start a campaign, or suggest the school have a vegetarian day where only plant-based options are available. Maybe you could even hold a talk in the hall for all students.’
A lump lodges in my throat. Animal rights activists have given vegetarians such a bad reputation. You tell people you don’t eat meat and they groan and roll their eyes, and it’s gotten to the point where people don’t even wish to hear what you have to say about it. I’m ashamed to be considered part of their movement, but I remind myself I’m not. I’m doing it for a different cause, for abettercause.
Even Archer seemed put off by it.
So having Chase appear so invested in it, as if he’s really considering ways I can take this big, makes me emotional.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks suddenly. He’s paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth.
‘Yeah, why?’
‘You look like you’re about to cry.’
‘Really?’ I laugh, even as tears start to fall.
Chase pushes up and walks over to me. He hesitates for a moment—and then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. I’m too nervous to put my arms around him, so they stay squashed between us, but now I’m crying even harder, because how many times have I wanted him to hug me like this?
He doesn’t have feelings for me. He’s just being nice.
And yet, in a way, this almost feels like a goodbye. I take out my feelings for him and examine them, and I let them go. I imagine they’re clouds, like the ones he and I watched in the meadow, and I think about them floating away.
He rests his chin on top of my head. ‘Is this about Archer?’ he asks hesitantly.
Archer.
I remember Chase waiting outside of his room while Archer and I wrapped ourselves around each other. I wonder what Archer thinks of me now. I won’t be able to face him—not after everything we did last night. I wonder how he feels today, on his comedown.
I wonder how Cassie feels.
Oh my God.
I pull away and look down at my wrist.
‘I got a tattoo,’ I say. ‘I let Demi tattoo me.’
Chase pulls away and bursts out laughing.
‘And I died my hair!’
Chase must have tried to put it in a bun last night when I was throwing up; I yank out the bobble now and bring a strand of pastel pink around to look at it.
This only makes Chase laugh harder. I’m angry at myself, but his laugh is contagious. And soon we’re both doubled over with laughter.
I sober suddenly. ‘Chase?’
His grin softens. ‘Frankie.’
My name feels intimate in his mouth.
‘Thanks for… not giving me any of that joint last night,’ I say. ‘I would never ask now. I feel so stupid—‘
‘We all do stupid things when we’re drunk.’ He’s silent for a moment, staring down at his empty plate before he says, ‘It’s why I don’t drink anymore. I’d get a taste and it would become an immediate incentive for drugs. It got to a point where I associated alcohol with it. Even now, when I see other people sniffing, I’m tempted. I miss it, but it wasn’t real.’
‘How is smoking cannabis any better?’
‘I’mtrying.’ He says it almost pleadingly, and I regret the words instantly.
