Jenny looks at Richard carefully. Whether she’s trying to decide whether to believe him or she’s gauging her own reaction, he can’t tell. Maybe she’s waiting for him to say more. Finally, when she realizes he’s done, she takes a deep breath and stands.
“It does. Help, that is. It’s not nearly enough, but it helps to think he believed me.” Jenny turns to Haley. “Thanks. You were right. This was . . . okay.” Her eyes rest briefly on Richard. “Thank you.” She shoulders her backpack—he’s startled by its size compared to her—and leaves the café.
Haley waits until the door closes behind Jenny to speak. “Not really impressed by the warmth of that exchange.”
Richard doesn’t respond right away. He feels wrung out.
“It was never going to end with a group hug,” he finally says. Haley punches him softly on the arm. “So I have to ask: what’s she going to do?”
“Do?”
“Will she stay at MacCallum?”
“That’s the most surprising part of this whole thing,” Haley says. “She refuses to go. Her parents think she should transfer. Her dad even threatened to pull her tuition, but she told him she’d get herself financially emancipated and take out massive loans if he tried it, so he backed off. At any rate, she’s staying. Res Life is making her a permanent Out--Houser, and her profs say she can get any extensions she needs for this semester.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Richard says.
“Yeah,” Haley agrees. She looks across the table at him, an expression he can’t quite read on her face. “Here’s what’s cool: you. Thanks for talking to her.”
She thinks I’m better than I am. It’s worrisome. The opportunities for disappointing her are vast.
Then again, it beats Carrie’s relentless underestimation of him. Hands down.
“So, am I to believe you now have a permanent single?” Richard grins at Haley. He watches as the blush makes its slow journey across her cheeks.
. . .
No.
She’s broken a heel clean off. At first she doesn’t understand her own steps, the lurching stumble of her own feet over cracked, winding sidewalks through the woods. When she does realize, she stops, looks. These aren’t her shoes.
“Oh no,” she breathes out loud. She doesn’t see the heel. She can’t find the heel. Tamra? Marliese? Whose shoes are these? Someone is going to be angry with her.
These aren’t her clothes.
She isn’t this girl.
This didn’t happen. Tonight. This night didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen.
No.
Somehow the woods end. She recognizes things. The bell tower in the distance. She points herself at what she knows. Her legs obey. She wants nothing more than her own room. Her bed. This night to end.
These are not her clothes, and she isn’t this girl. No. Not her. She begins to run. Jenny runs as fast as she can in someone’s broken shoes. She imagines she can run from this night. Outrun this night.
No.
. . .
41
Haley As Haley and Richard leave the Hard Math Café shortly after Jenny, Haley finds herself checking behind the swinging doors for Carrie and Co., Richard’s crack from before in mind.
“All clear?” he jokes, watching her.
“Get out of my head,” she says with a laugh. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s what I was thinking.”
They step outside into a blast of raw November air. Leaves scudder along the sidewalk. It’s only midafternoon, but already the promise of a four--thirty sunset creeps over the horizon. She instinctively moves closer to him. He wraps one arm around her shoulders. They head toward her dorm.
Her ride leaves in about an hour. Then it’s a four--hour drive home and a four--day Thanksgiving break. She’s not looking forward to seeing her mom, but luckily the house will be packed with relatives. Cute little cousins. Aunts in the kitchen making pies. Her uncle’s sausage stuffing. She can do this. They’ll make it work.
And when she gets back, there’s this Richard person waiting for her.
“So what’s your favorite Thanksgiving side dish?” she asks.
“Totally, without question, gloppy green bean casserole with the fried onion rings on top,” he says.
She stops despite the cold and pulls away from him. “That’s just so wrong. Next you’ll tell me you like the cranberry sauce out of the can.”
“And served intact on a plate, so you can still see the rings.”
Haley moans in mock--horror. “I don’t know if I can date someone with such lowbrow taste.”
He smiles, steps in close, and pulls her toward him. “Sure you can,” he breathes into her ear. “Because you eat Fritos.”
She bursts out laughing. Yes, she thinks, I do. And yes, it’s one of those dumb embarrassing things he knows about her and finds endearing. And one of their first inside jokes. The first of many inside jokes to come.
Richard hugs her against the wind. She hugs back. Maybe she’s a hugger, after all? At least this way. With him. Yes, she is. This huggie girl. Woman. All of the above.
“I’m freezing,” he says.
“Want to go inside?”
He nods. Yes.
The dorm is emptying out. A few students push past them in the hall lugging huge duffels. You’d think they were leaving for a month.
“Have a great break, Haley!”
“See ya.”