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I suck in a deep breath. I want that transparency and honesty from her.
And it’s not fair to expect it if I’m not returning it. I have to tell her about Friday night.
“Hey, Adams. Hardly surprised to see you here, considering the fridge is empty.”
“It’s Henry’s week to get groceries,” I tell Robby.
“Uh-huh, sure. Hey, Cassia.”
“Hi, Robby,” she greets.
“Mind if I join you guys?” he asks.
“Of course not.” Cassia slides her massive book over, making space.
“This yours?” He taps the shiny cover.
“Uh-huh.” She takes a bite of salad.
“I figured. I don’t think Adams even got his books yet.”
Cassia looks to me, eyebrows raised.
“Iorderedthem,” I tell her. “I just haven’t picked them up.”
“Hey, Reynolds! Johnson!” Robby calls. “Over here!”
A couple more of my teammates head this way.
I glance at Cassia, realizing that’s the end of our private conversation. And I still haven’t told her about Friday night.
Part of me is disappointed.
Most of me is relieved.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CASSIA
I’m the first one in my Genetics class. There were only fifty spots available during registration, but this lecture hall could easily fit a hundred students. It’s a giant, cavernous space.
I choose a seat a few rows back and pull out my laptop and my textbook. Open up a fresh notebook and write the date at the top of the page.
There’s still no sign of anyone else.
I’m ten minutes early.
Holden’s teammates are all nice, but they’re a rowdy group. I left lunch as soon as I was finished eating, stopping for a coffee and then coming straight here.
I look around the lecture hall, then quickly discover there’s nothing interesting to see. Cream walls, gray carpet, whiteboard at the front of the room.
So I pull out my phone. I text my mom first, asking how she is. Text Maggie second, asking how her freshman year is going. Odds are I won’t hear back from her for a while. The last message I sent is still unanswered. Finally, I text Sydney, asking if she’s back in Pembrooke yet. I doubt she is, and it’s an unnecessary question. But I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone. I didn’t ask when Catherine will be back or if Sydneyis planning to tell her about the pregnancy. But she’s probably returning to an empty condo.
No one responds right away, so I switch to scrolling through social media. Predictably, Maggie has posted on there. I look through a few photos of her smiling and laughing, unsurprised she’s already made more friends in a few days than I have in three years of college. We’ve always been so different that it’s hard to contemplate that we’re siblings. Maybe it’s an anomaly we’ll study in this class.
A few other students have started to trickle into the lecture hall, but none of them are people I recognize.
There’s no sign of the professor yet.
