West and Trent both shift closer to me on either side, and Reese’s hands settle firmly on my hips, my back pressed to his front. I feel all three of them around me, supporting and comforting me.
Protecting me.
We stay like that, watching silently as Leslie is put into the police car. Walton glances our way too, tipping his head in acknowledgement before sliding into the car as well. It rumbles off, and the street grows quiet.
“That’s it,” I murmur, shaking my head in something almost like disbelief. “It’s done. It’s over. Life can go back to fucking normal now.”
“Not exactly.” Trent’s voice has a hard edge of determination to it, and I glance over at him, startled. He cocks his head at me, his blue eyes glinting. “Normal would be you going to school with us, Ems. Going to class like you’re supposed to. On a scholarship you earned.”
I pull away from Reese a little so that I can turn around and face all three of the guys.
“That was the old normal,” I say, shaking my head. “My new normal is working and figuring out where to go from here. And I’m ok
ay with that. I like my job, and I’m ready to move forward.”
Trent just shakes his head stubbornly, and West and Reese have the same expression on their faces too. It looks like I’m about to be outvoted again, although I don’t know how much that really matters. What’s done is done. Just because the four of us worked through things and managed to get to a much better place, that doesn’t mean we can just snap our fingers and make things magically reset to how they were.
I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, Trent takes my hand, cutting me off.
As if he knows exactly what I was about to say, he shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Ems. And I think there might be a way. It’ll involve a lot of work, and a lot of groveling, but I’m willing to do it. We all are. Will you let us try?”
It does take a lot of work.
But the guys and I are a much better team than we were last semester, so I think we manage to put together a much better final presentation than we did when we were paired up the first time.
It takes us two weeks of late nights and early mornings, fitting in writing and research around work and the guys’ other class projects. But we get it done.
Now all that’s left is the groveling.
All of us will have a part to play in this phase of Trent’s plan. I know he plans on groveling the most, but the truth is, none of us are entirely guiltless in this story. Maybe that’s why we were eventually able to forgive each other.
Professor Sykes looks up in surprise as Trent raps on the door frame of his office. His gray hair is just as wild and untamed as it was last semester, making him look a bit like a mad scientist.
His bushy eyebrows lift when he recognizes us, and he leans back in his seat. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” Trent leads the way into his office, and all four of us gather in front of his desk. West is carrying the new binder that holds our completed project—a new version, better and more detailed than the first.
It strays a little from the original assignment we were given, but we’re banking on piquing Professor Sykes’ curiosity.
This project is about us. It’s essentially a study in revenge and retribution, in how small groups come together and fall apart, and why. It’s a study in how modern technology has impacted the way people with a vendetta can act on their anger, and about how quickly ‘tit-for-tat’ can spiral out of control.
It’s a confession.
It’s an apology.
It’s a plea for a second chance.
“We all failed your class last semester,” West begins.
“Yes.” Professor Sykes nods. “I remember.”
“We never turned in our final project.” Trent takes the binder from West and holds it out. “Not because we didn’t do it—but because I destroyed it instead of delivering it to you like I was supposed to.”
That takes Sykes by surprise. He jerks his head back a little, his gaze flashing over all four of us as if he’s seeing us in a slightly new light. Whether that light is good or bad, I’m not sure. But even if it’s bad, we can’t stop now.
“If you’re wondering why I’d do something so stupid and self-sabotaging,” Trent continues ruefully, gesturing to the binder as Professor Sykes takes it and opens it. “It’s all in there.”
“Hmm.”