Staying On Top(82)

I had a strange, sad feeling that, now that he no longer needed me, I might never see my father again. That it made me sorry was a surprise, though I didn’t know why. He was my dad. As much as I wanted to get back to my life, having one last meal together wouldn’t hurt.

“That sounds nice.”

*



The sight of Whitman’s campus squeezed my heart with pleasure—it’s faux brick and manicured lawns, the kids laughing between finals, the tickle of anticipation in the air. I’d made it back in time to take the two finals that my professors demanded be completed in person, which meant that if Sam didn’t rat me out, I could come back next semester in good standing even after missing the last three weeks of class.

There had been another text from Kennedy waiting on my phone asking me to please call her as soon as I could, but nothing that suggested everyone knew of my moonlighting career as a con artist.

The state of my room unsettled me, since it appeared Audra hadn’t been there for some time; there were no sheets on her bed and her toiletries were gone from the sink. The cold, abandoned feeling on Audra’s side of the room worried me more than the idea of being ostracized, and I called Kennedy. No answer. I tried Cole, too, just in case, but got the same nonresponse.

The fact that no one answered made my nerves twitch, but they would return my message.

My two finals weren’t until Friday—two days away—but I did need to go to the library to finish one last project. When I dumped out my backpack, intent on repacking it with marketing textbooks, the envelope Sam’s lawyer had given me fluttered down onto my bed.

My stomach clenched and my fingers shook as I picked it up. This was my new life. Starting over had to be done, and leaving this letter unopened would chain me to the past. The seal broke under my fingernail and I held my breath through the two quick sentences.



Devil Girl,

Even though sex with you was the best thing ever, I considered us friends first. You may not know this, since friendship is more of a concept for you than an experience, but friendships don’t end after a fight—or even a slight (hey, I’m a poet and didn’t know it!).

Keep in touch.

Sam



Hope, too fragile to look directly at, rose inside me until tears bubbled down my cheeks. I wanted more than friendship from Sam—I wanted everything from Sam—but having him in my life in any small way was better than nothing. It was almost too much to think possible, and a hesitant smile found my lips on my way to the library.

I had a new life, and I was determined to make it amazing, all on my own.