“Tell that to Columbia.”
And now he’s thrown again. “What?”
“I didn’t get in.”
“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I can’t look at him. My failure is humiliating. “A few days ago.”
“I’m so sorry. God, I wish you’d told me. I had no idea.”
“I got a letter from la Sorbonne, too. Accepted.”
Josh deflates with visible relief. “That’s great. You deserve it.” But there’s sadness, too, as his posture sinks further. Because if I attend la Sorbonne, there will still be an ocean between us. “So what if Dartmouth does accept you? Where will you go?”
“I don’t know.” And I realize I’m crying. “I haven’t decided.”
“But…I thought…I thought we had a plan.”
“No, you had a plan. You have plans.”
Josh shakes his head in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly who you are.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “You know how to be yourself, but you also know how to be a different kind of yourself on television and in society. And you’ve always had a passion for art, and you’ve always known where you’re attending college. You already even know what kind of apartment you’ll rent when you move there! Not to mention what kind of car you’ll drive, what kind of cat you’ll adopt, and how you’ll spend your weekends in the woods. I don’t know any of that. I’ve never cared about anything like you’ve cared about your work. I don’t even belong to a single country. I’m nobody. I’m nothing.”
“Isla…” My words have stunned him again. He has no idea what to say.
“And you’re right, maybe I am upset about your book for selfish reasons. I know you haven’t had the time, I know it takes months for you to draw them, but…eight pages. I was only eight pages.” My voice cracks, hollow and desperate. “I thought maybe I’d finally learn something if I could see myself through your eyes. But I wasn’t even there.”
Josh strains against his seat belt. He reaches for a hand, but I pull them both into my lap. “You’ll be in it,” he says. “Of course you’ll be in it.”
“I used to think so.” My chest is splitting in two. “Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? I’m a placeholder.”
“What do you mean?”
He’s trying desperately to get me to look at him, but I can’t. I’m in agony. “Your friends left school, and I was there, but I wasn’t enough to keep you there. You had to keep breaking rules. And then you left me.”
“It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that!”
“No,” I say. “It was. You tried really hard for a really long time to get expelled, because you couldn’t admit to your parents that you didn’t want to be there. Your plan just succeeded at the wrong time. And now that you’re gone – now that you’re here, and I’m not – sooner or later, you’re gonna realize that I was only a distraction. Something to keep your mind off your misery. Something to keep you going until the next phase of your very carefully planned-out life could begin. But I no longer believe that you’ll actually want me there. And” – I swallow loudly – “I don’t want to be around when you discover it.”
Josh is reeling. “Wh-what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I don’t see myself in your future.”
“Isla.” His voice shakes. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?”
And there it is. The question that, once spoken aloud, is always inevitably its own undoing.
“You don’t love me like you think you love me,” I whisper.
Now he’s crying, too. “Why are you doing this?”
My entire world is crumbling, but I have to finish the destruction. I have to destroy what’s left of my heart before he can do it for me. “Because if it hurts us this much now,” I say, “I can’t imagine how much it’ll hurt when you come to this realization yourself.”
I’m as shocked by my words as he is.
I don’t understand how this could happen in one car ride, but as a deathly sombre Brian pulls over in front of Kismet, I already know that I’m getting out. And Josh isn’t.
Chapter twenty-seven
“Isla? Are you okay?” Kurt’s dad is watching me on the camera installed outside their building. I ran all three blocks from Kismet.
“Let me in. Please let me in!”
The door buzzes open and then slams shut behind me. I race up the two flights of stairs to their apartment, and Scott and Sabine are already in the hall. Kurt’s parents refuse to let me call them Mr. and Mrs. Bacon, because they refuse to believe that they’re old. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Their questions all come at once.