“Exactly,” she says, steering me back towards another table. “Play that to your advantage, and eventually you’ll find someone who sees that as the asset it is.”
So far that hasn’t been the case, but I let her lead me to the last booth. It is, of course, Columbia.
I’ve avoided it thus far for obvious reasons. The holy trinity still lingers there, with Victoria hovering as close to Astor as he will tolerate her. She shoots daggers at me with her eyes when I approach, but I just turn my attention to the rep. He seems grateful for a break from those four, and I don’t blame him. Unlike some of the other college reps, he has a genuine smile that draws me in right away. He doesn’t immediately balk at my credentials, but rather starts pulling out brochures he thinks might be helpful for me.
“You know,” he says, as he’s diving under the cloth-covered table to hunt for something in his supplies, “It’s about time that Hawthorne Academy started a scholarship program. This kind of diversity is exactly what this school needs.”
Before I can correct him myself, Victoria’s sharp tongue lashes out between us.
“Actually,” she snaps, “Teddy isn’t here on scholarship. Go ahead. Ask her how she got in … and then you might change your mind about things.”
The rep pauses, and looks between us, obviously confused. “Sorry, and you were … again?”
Victoria turns pink with rage. “I just … we just …”
He squints up at her again. “Oh, right, I remember now. At a certain point, you all just start to look the same.” He’s smiling at me again. “It’s good to see some fresh faces. However you ended up here, I say it’s a good thing.”
“Oh, I can assure you … it’s not.” Victoria’s voice is shrill, near hysterical. She might have ignored me up until now, but there’s no way her hurt pride is going to let that slide. She steps up, one finger pointed accusatorially at me like I somehow brought this on. She’s about to unleash her full fury when, astonishingly, Astor puts out a hand and stops her.
He doesn’t look at me. He just stares straight ahead and nods at the rep.
“I think we’ve taken up enough of your time.” He thanks them and spins on his heel. Victoria stands shocked for a moment, but runs after him along with the others.
I’m left standing baffled beside Dana and the rep … who seems a little off-put, but completely unaware of how important that moment just was.
I have to excuse myself. I shove the pamphlets into my bag and run out of the auditorium as fast as my legs will carry me through the crowd. At some point I lose Dana, but I can’t stop to look for her. I need to get out of here. I need to think.
To anyone else, what just happened means nothing.
But to me … it means everything.
I don’t stop when I get to the quad with its big, old, towering trees, but rather head out to the lake. A chill breeze leaves the dock beside the boathouse vacant—and I find myself gravitating towards it.
The biting air helps my thoughts clear, or maybe it’s the history this place holds. I stand and look through the window, unsure of whether to go inside. This is the last place I was with Astor, Blair, and Wills before everything changed.
Here, in this building, tangled up in the sails and rigging, I felt whole for the first, and only, time in my life. It was more than the romance of it all, it was more than who they were … it was what they meant to me. I let them close in a way I’d never let anyone before … and in turn, they did the same.
I can’t bring myself to go inside. It’s too much; too many memories laced with emotion.
Even though I settle outside, those emotions start wheedling their way back in anyway.
This thing that I shared with them, it was more than just lust. It was more than just … us. I saw how it changed each of them. It made Blair more sincere, Wills a dreamer, and Astor … it made him human.
Astor.
I close my eyes and picture him here, with me. Inside the auditorium, just now, is the first time Astor has acknowledged my existence in the slightest since our falling out...and I can’t get it out of my head.
He stopped Victoria.
He protected me.
And all my determination to stay away, to accept the wedge between us … it melts with the sound of his voice carrying over the water. When I open my eyes, I spot them lingering down by the shore some distance away.
They can’t see me from here, but their voices carry across the lake so I can catch sni
ppets of their conversation. I watch them wistfully, able for once to really stare at them without being judged or stopped, and most importantly, without them knowing.
They’re laughing and talking, and I remember when it would be the four of us doing that together. What I wouldn’t give to have that back.