I had assumed—or maybe hoped—that the first skirmish would be more of a breeze, considering Team Two’s emotional disadvantage at having lost a cocaptain that morning, but the following two hours were a backbreaking game of trivia tennis.
I remembered enough of the symbolism from the assigned reading to make it through six questions in a row about the literature section before the heat got passed over to Kate. Perla managed to keep from swearing at the proctors. I figured she had realized that they were, in fact, capable of destroying her entire future if she got snippy. No one cried until we were declared the winners, when one of the girls from Team Two finally broke down, her first sob echoing in her mic. None of her teammates moved to console her.
I expected to be forced to shake hands with the losing team, like it was a peewee sporting event, but instead Meg and Hari hustled us out of the building so fast that I was sure they thought that the proctors would take back our points if they heard us say anything that wasn’t the answer to a question.
“After lunch, you’ll have the rest of the afternoon off,” Meg said, after we were safely out of the building and she and Hari had congratulated us. “Unfortunately, you’re still not allowed to wander campus without supervision, but I did get permission from Professor Cheeseman for us to use the library again. Hari and I will split up. If you want to be in the quad, you can stay with him. Or, if you want to go to the library, you can come with me.”
“And if we want to be left alone?” Perla asked.
“You can go to your room,” Meg said in that sticky-sweet way that I was pretty sure meant she was picturing dismemberment.
Brandon took my hand. “Sci-fi section?”
33
“Why does it feel like a thousand years since the last time we were here?” I asked, as we passed under the binary clock into the science fiction section. I hadn’t been sure if Meg would actually let us go unsupervised, but she hadn’t given it a second thought. Probably because all of the adults who could fire her were busy setting up for the day’s second skirmish.
“It feels like a thousand years since breakfast,” Brandon groaned. He cast a glance at the Magrathea table and shook his head. “Floor?”
“Floor,” I concurred.
We stepped into the stacks and sat down next to each other, our backs against one of the redwood bookcases. Brandon’s eyelids were heavy as he stared, unfocused, at the floor in front of us.
“Style largely depends on the way the chin is worn,” I quoted, tapping lightly on his chin.
“You quote that play more than you think you do,” he said with a smile.
“I doubt that.” I combed my fingers through his hair, delighting in the closeness of it. “I think I quote it more than I want to, but not more than I think to.”
“What a Wildean turn of phrase.” He stroked his thumb against the soft skin behind my ear. “If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.”
A Gwendolen line. Maybe that was why it made the insides of my eyelids scratchy and my throat constrict, even as he lifted his face to mine and kissed me. It had been almost a full twenty-four hours since the last time we kissed, and twice as long since we’d been without an audience. It was a relief to sink into him, not worrying about being spied on or judged. Contentment swept away that flare-up of sadness and let an unfinished blueprint as to what might happen next take its place.
“Was it hard seeing your principal again?” I asked during a breather. I’d never made out with anyone for so long that I needed to take breaks to regain the strength in my lips and the oxygen to my brain. It was a good problem to have.
“Not as hard as I would have thought,” he said. His eyebrows drew together into one long black line, visible under the bangs that I’d mussed. “It would have been nice to be warned, but the counselors probably didn’t think we could handle the pressure.”
“I don’t know if they’re wrong.” I stretched my legs out until the muscles warmed from the tension. I’d been dreaming about running, for days, and waking up with my legs curled at painful angles underneath me. There was so much pressure—to stay, to win, to remember every single thing that was happening—and so few places to exert it.
“I can’t believe we have three more rounds of that to go,” he said. He set his head heavily on my shoulder, his eyelashes tickling the underside of my jaw. He set a nibbling kiss against the curve of my neck. “Four, if we’re lucky.”
“Let’s not talk about it,” I said, closing my eyes. “The Melee or the after or any of it. It’s too depressing.”
A chuckle bubbled out of his chest and another kiss, stamped between my neck and the collar of my shirt. “The entire future is too depressing to talk about?”
“Yes,” I said definitively. “Other people moving into our dorms? Or the tree house getting torn down? Other people claiming the Magrathea table?”
He patted the carpet underneath us. “We aren’t even using the Magrathea table. And the tree house is probably already torn down. It was full of alcohol.”
“You know what I mean. Everything about this summer is going to disappear. I want to hold on to the you-and-me part while I can. It’s bad enough we’re on lockdown and can barely see each other while we have the time. We only have a few more days.”
“Yeah, but that means in a few more days our brains won’t be full of binder bullshit anymore. I can forget everything I barely know about classical music. And then we can…” He trailed off and lifted his head off of my shoulder. “Wait. You mean we only have a few more days? You and me?”
I stared back at him, shock ringing between my ears. Balls and bollocks. Was this what Leigh had meant on the first day, about IQ tests not measuring common sense? He couldn’t possibly have not already thought of this. He was a genius. A genius who flunked out of genius school, maybe, but still. Certifiably smart.
“Ever,” he said, not taking my silence as an answer. “If we don’t win the scholarships, you’re going to give up on us?”
“I told you flat out before the first time we kissed that you were one of the things I was going to miss about being here. You don’t miss something you have.”
“I thought that…” his hands flailed, indicating the two of us and the room around us, “having me would change that!”
“How?” I asked. “I can’t keep you. You live in Oregon! Four hundred and eighty miles apart. One twelve-hour train ride. One very expensive three-hour flight!”
“I get it,” he said flatly. “You ran away. You did your research.”
I ignored this. “And even if we win the scholarships, college is a year away. You don’t even know where you’re going to finish your senior year yet. Things change. People change. And—”
His eyes were giant pudding cups of quivering hurt. “You want to end this.”
I clasped my hands on either side of his face. “It’s not about what I want, Brandon. It’s what’s going to happen. Some things are inevitable. Haven’t you ever heard of a summer romance before?”