Isla and the Happily Ever After(54)
Kurt does. “You sound angry.”
“I am.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Yes.”
He wedges a textbook underneath my door. “I had to, Isla. They asked me.”
“What did Hattie even want?”
“She wanted to borrow your hair dryer.”
“My hair dryer?”
“Yeah. The…diffuser? Is that the thing you put on the end? She wanted to try to curl her hair.”
“And she couldn’t borrow one from somebody in her own stupid dorm?”
His left eye twitches. “I don’t know.”
A hair diffuser. I can’t believe this entire situation was caused by a freaking hair diffuser. A pirate and a devil stroll past my open door, heading towards the lobby for Résidence Lambert’s annual Halloween party. It’s unfathomable to me that anyone would be in the mood for a celebration.
“Why – for once in your life – couldn’t you just lie? That’s all you had to do.”
Kurt pulls up his hoodie. “They asked me a question. I gave them the answer.”
“Yeah, well? Thanks to you? My boyfriend is about to be kicked out of school.”
“That’s not my fault. I didn’t do that. He did that.”
I don’t care that he’s speaking the truth. I don’t care that it’s our fault. It still wouldn’t be happening if Kurt could’ve kept his mouth shut. He’s supposed to be my best friend. I yank out the textbook and hold open the door even wider. “Go. Away.”
He flaps his hands, upset. “Isla.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t deal with you right now. Just go.”
He’s still there. I sense the movement of his hands. I squeeze my eyes tighter, so tight that it hurts, until I feel him brush past me. The stairwell door clangs open.
“Boo!” a male voice says.
My eyes pop open. Someone in a Scream mask is two inches away from my nose. There’s laughter down the hall as I slam my door shut in the jerk’s face. I collapse into bed. I’m crying again. Maybe Mrs. Wasserstein is here to keep Josh from getting expelled. She’s a powerful woman. I’ll bet even the head of school is scared of her.
I’m scared of her.
She probably blames me for all of this. I wanted to make a good first impression on Josh’s parents. I didn’t know if they’d like me – if they’d think I was exceptional enough for their son – but now I don’t stand a chance. I don’t even know if they were aware of my existence before yesterday.
Josh still hasn’t texted. I’m afraid his mom might be monitoring his phone, so I only text him once more. I keep it short and non-incriminating: I love you.
A few minutes later, there’s a rapid-fire knocking. I spring from my bed and throw open the door. But it’s Hattie. The sight of her fills me with a scarlet rage. She’s wearing an oversize Hawaiian shirt that’s been buttoned up wrong. Her hair is ratted out in every direction. She has dark under-eye circles, fake bruises, and a pencil-thin moustache.
“What are you supposed to be?” I ask, as calmly as possible. Which isn’t calm at all.
She holds up a piece of cardboard. It’s been painted white, and it has black lines labelled with inches and feet. “I’m a mugshot.”
“Practising for your future?”
“Oui.” She just stands there.
“What? What do you want, Hattie?”
“I wanna apologize, jeez.”
I wait.
She waits.
“Was that it?” I ask. “That was your apology?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. I hope you feel better now. Because I sure do. I feel so much better knowing my boyfriend might be expelled because you were that impatient for a hair diffuser.”
Her stone expression falters. “I didn’t know I was gonna get you guys in trouble. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“Me, too.” I slam my door shut.
It pops open. Hattie looks at me with a startled hope until she realizes it was an accident. We scowl at each other as I slam it back shut. I push against it, hard, until I feel the click beneath my palms.
The party carries on all night. Josh never texts. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I startle awake around eight in the morning. There’s a swollen hush over the dormitory. Everyone is finally in bed. I was dreaming about the need to catch a train, but I couldn’t stop putting on make-up. I was helpless as I applied layer after sluggish layer, watching the clock tick closer and closer and closer to my departure time.
Two knocks, low on my door.
I jolt into a sitting position. That’s what woke me up. That’s his second knock. The sound is heavy and foreboding. I lurch out of bed, but I’m terrified to open the door. I press my ear against the wood.