“Hey, those are clean.”
Morgan nudges my shoulder, pushing me back down to sit.
“Does it really matter?” She’s right. They’re sweats. They don’t really need to be in a drawer, I guess.
“Are you at least going to wear a cute top?” Morgan kneels in front of me and unscrunches my socks, stretching them up my calves to wear the same way she does.
“I was thinking my Welles hoodie?” I glance to where it rests on the foot of my bed. Brooklyn quickly snatches it and tosses it on top of my joggers . . . I mean sweatpants.
“I have a black tie-top that will look cute. You can borrow it.” Brooklyn moves to her closet section as Morgan snaps at me to pull my white polo shirt off. She’s nice enough not to cringe at my basic white bra. I figure out why as soon as she and Brooklyn start “styling” me in the black shirt.
The two of them spend five minutes wrapping these long strips of fabric around my midriff and under my boobs, literally lifting my tits up in their palms and forcing them as close together as they’ll go. By the end, they’ve somehow made my bra tighter because I know my breasts sure didn’t get bigger. The edge of my bra lines the top curves of my breasts, held in place by the tight wrapping of the black shirt that is tied just below the only cleavage I’ve ever had. Morgan talks me into trading my skirt for one of hers, the shortest one she owns, and the only chip I won by bargaining is being allowed to wear my white Vans.
I manage to snag my hoodie from the pile on our way out the door and I hug it to my chest as Brooklyn threatens to burn it if I put it on before we get to this party, wherever it is. We’re all playing a part tonight. Whether we say it aloud or not. I crave to feel normal, and my roommatesmustfeel it too. It tugs at me from the pit of my stomach.
Anika.Tonight would make her so happy.
“Ladies, this way.” Cameron rolls his hand in front of him before bowing. He’s already drunk, or high. Or maybe this is just the way he is. It’s hard to get a read on him. He’s continually mellow, which is even odder because of the extreme stunts he pulls off. During fourth form, he leapt from the roof of the admin building using a parachute he won by sending in energy drink can tabs. He sailed three hundred yards before getting hung up in a tree.
We follow him along the main path until we join a few more people who seem to have earned this special invite. I recognize them all, though I don’t truly know them. They presume to know me, though. Everyone at Welles does since the accident. What a strange and tragic way for me to become popular.
“Voices down, guys,” James says in a rather loud whisper. He waves us all over to the door behind the library, the one I watched Theo come out of the other day.
“Behold,” he says, opening the door and waving us all inside a dimly lit room as he scans the area around us. The night patrol guards drive the same loop every night from eleven p.m. to sunup. You can hear the hum of the golf cart when it’s close, which is what made sneaking off campus so easy in years past.
“I guess technically we aren’t off campus,” I mutter to Morgan.
“Good point,” she says, relaxing her arms. She repeats my observation to Brooklyn, who seems to destress as well. Maybe the two of them will enjoy themselves tonight. Since James closed the heavy door behind us and locked it with a deadbolt, I’ve only gotten more anxious.
“I mean, fire hazard,” I say under my breath.
“That’s what I said,” Cameron says at my shoulder. Our eyes meet and he rolls his before moving ahead of me. He leaves a sweet scent in his wake, and I smile to myself.Yeah. He’s high.
“Welcome, everyone. No beer tonight, but we do have this lovely bottle of Jack and half a bottle of gin. Plus, whatever weird shit Cameron brought,” Theo says, holding the two bottles of liquor up for us all to view.
His gaze passes right over everyone, landing directly on me in a matter of seconds. He tips the whiskey bottle in his right hand and lifts a brow. I shake my head and look down.
I’m not drinking. I think I’d have a panic attack before I brought the glass to my lips. Besides, this way Morgan and Brooklyn can if they want, and I’ll be able to make sure we get back to our room.
“I didn’t even know this place was here.” Brooklyn runs her hand along one of the huge scanning machines. I’ve been in this very room before. I helped our head librarian two years ago when Welles received a major collection of foreign documents. I didn’t realize this is where the door lead when I saw Theo exit the other day. I’m terrible with directions and orientation. It took me years to learn how to make straight lines in the water when I swim.
I see the appeal now. Nobody uses this space except for those rare times, and on the occasion that a visiting student from one of the universities needs to gather research. Our archives are better than some post-secondaries.
“You’re getting a lot of looks, Lily. The good kind,” Morgan says, winking at me and nodding to a small group of football players, probably friends of Theo’s. Rather than looking away when I gaze at them, they smile and one of them holds up a small glass of whiskey. I brace myself for them to utter something I can’t quite hear then laugh, but it never happens.
“They’re looking at me because of—”
“No. They’re not,” Brooklyn cuts me off. I turn to my side to meet her stern expression. “Tonight, you are a hot Welles girl.”
“No, she’s one of the girls from Hayden Hall,” Morgan corrects, throwing her arms around both of our necks and shoulders.
My lip ticks up.
I’ve always wanted to be in this place. With them, like this. They’re the girls from Hayden Hall, and I sold my soul to be one of them.
“Lily.”
I shake my head at the sound of my name, jolting from my daydream. Theo is leaning against a large wood desk in the far corner of the space, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up just below his elbows as he braces himself with a hand on either side of him atop the desk. He crosses his feet, maybe to appear disarming, and lifts his chin as he flashes me a faint smile.