“He’s ‘too busy’ that weekend.”
“But it’s not until May.” She won’t look at me, and I make the connection. “Isn’t that when his big family reunion thing always happens?” Spencer’s family is as big as Asha’s—it’s one reason they get each other so well. And everyone knows they’re meant to be together, so much that we’ve always said “when you get married,” not “if.”
Asha lies down, arms crossed over her face. “I know,” she wails. “I’m horrible. But do you know how many aunties have called me every week since my sister got engaged? I got four last week, wanting to know if I’m next or if they should start setting me up with their friends’ sons.” Her arms move back and forth with her head. “We’re only eighteen! No guy wants to deal with that!”
I pat her leg. “Are you going to call him?”
“I don’t know.” Her arms muffle her voice. “What should I do?”
“You’re asking me for relationship advice?”
She laughs and sits up. “We should go out tonight.”
“No.” I cross the small space to the window. “Not up for it.”
“Why not?” She joins me and points across the courtyard. “See the room with the pirate flag? They’re having a Halloween party.”
I would ignore Halloween altogether if I could, but it’s soon, so there are lots of costumes and decorations at school and around town.
Asha nudges me. “Come on—whatever happened to the Terrible Twosome?”
I snort. We’ve never called ourselves that. “Don’t get mad,” I say. “It’s just … a bad idea. For me.”
“Wow.” She walks back to her boat of a bed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Please,” I say, turning around with another snort. “You party every bit as hard as me.”
She holds up a peace sign. “We’ve been to two whole parties this year.”
“Yeah, together, but you…” I trail off as she shakes her head, looking down. “Then where were you?”
She shakes her head again.
“You blew me off to screw Spencer?” It’s not like it’s the first time, but at least she was honest about it before.
Asha huffs. “Like you don’t blow me off for Matt all the time?”
I start to protest that Matt and I blew her off, but realize she’s right. And that’s not even taking Andrew into account.
“And for your information, no, we weren’t screwing. Usually,” she adds, as I start to roll my eyes. “I know you think this is a crappy school, but it’s still way harder than high school, okay?”
“You were studying?” I regret it even before her face scrunches up. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“No, I get it,” she says, standing up. “You guys are all super smart. I only took hard classes to tag along. Remember when I dropped AP Psych?”
I don’t, but I nod.
“It wasn’t because Mom wanted me to spend more time on orchestra. I just needed an excuse because I was flunking.”
“But…” There’s nothing I can say that doesn’t make me look like a bitch. I had no idea Asha had so much trouble in school. I thought all her excuses about Spencer tutoring her were made up … and I never considered that maybe she stayed here because she had no other options.
That maybe Spencer stayed to be with her, and not the other way around.
“You know why this is a crappy school?” she says, looking at her bulletin board to avoid me. “Because there’s way more work, but there’re also way more people in your class, and hardly any chance to talk to the TA, much less the professor.” She straightens a concert ticket. “It’s not like Senior Seminar with Ms. Moses, where you can waltz in and have tea and chat. They don’t give a crap about your life. They just want you to hand in papers and get out.”
“I…” I still don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She turns around. “Well, it’s not like you ever ask, Raych. You were so wrapped up in the Richardsons that I started not to even call you.”
My face flushes. I do ignore her phone calls sometimes, but I thought she would understand. “You sound like my mother.”
“Well, maybe somebody needs to!”
Then neither of us speaks. Asha picks at her orange fingernail polish. I stare at the scuffed toes of my boots. Music blares and quiets as a door slams down the hall. A toilet flushes. Someone yells to a friend. Finally I make myself look up and admit what we both know. “You’re right.”
Asha’s cheek twitches. “Did I seriously just hear Raychel Sanders say that I’m right?”
“I’m sorry,” I add, rubbing the back of my neck. In the mirror, I recognize it as a habit I picked up from Andrew, and I have to inhale hard to keep the tears back.
“I’m sorry too,” Asha says quickly, thinking she’s made me cry. “I know this is hard, with everything, I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” I pace the room, blinking hard. “But I mean—you won’t even talk to him?” I try to change the subject away from me. “I mean, think if Spencer fell and that was the last conversation y’all had? You can’t imagine how…” My throat closes up.
Asha tilts her head. “But you and Andrew—you weren’t like, that close…”
Despite everything, I laugh. “We were a little closer than you think.”
“I knew it!” she says loudly, making me jump. “Sorry. But I totally thought you were hooking up at that last party.” She sits on the bed and gestures for me to join her. “Come on. Time to spill.”
I take a seat. So much for changing the subject.
MATT
Friday morning, Raychel texts that she stayed over with Asha and doesn’t need a ride to school. I send back “k.” Not even “Say hi to Asha” or “See you tomorrow” or even an entire word. Just “k.”
I know I’m being an asshole, and it’s not entirely on purpose. It just keeps happening. And now that I might be leaving early, there’s also a kind of savage pleasure in being the one with a secret for a change.
Plus if she’s glad I’m leaving, it might be easier to go.
It’s hard not to worry about her, though. She’s been chewing her nails, and I haven’t seen her do that in a long time, not since her first choir solo, sophomore year. I remember because after that, she took up chewing gum, and I used to sneak packages into her locker.
The memory irritates me.
Everything irritates me. Especially me.
RAYCHEL