“If you could tell her that I called,” he says.
“I can do that, sir. You have a good night now,” I say, one more little cherry on top.
I put the phone down and grab the remote from Cass’s desk, flipping the television to Sports Center, and I wait for her to feel strong enough to come in and join me. By the end of the show, she’s here.
“Your father called,” I say. She rolls her eyes and crawls into her bed, patting the space next to her. I don’t elaborate, because I don’t want to freak her out. It’s not a lie. It’s omitting, a little. A lot. But I think this calls for an exception.
Chapter 26
Cass
Rowe’s coming back.
Paige left early.
The Cotterman issue is now a non-issue.
I have to admit, the positives are starting to add up. I was even almost looking forward to the holidays. Mom has been calling me every day. It was annoying at first, because I knew it was all about making her feel better. But I find I’m starting to actually look forward to her calls. We still talk about nothing. She doesn’t ask about Ty. I don’t talk about Ty. She doesn’t ask about practice. I don’t talk about practice. And maybe that’s okay—maybe I get to live my life separate from her knowing about it, and we get to meet in the middle, in the land of make-believe where I’m interested in the bead and textile expo.
She does try to ask me questions about Paige. She doesn’t like it when we’re fighting. And I don’t like feeling this way about my sister. But I’m having a hard time getting over this one. It’s always a matter of trust between her and me, and that bridge has just been burned so many times, I don’t know if I can rebuild it any more.
I have one more final. Ty left for home with his brother yesterday, and Nate gave me a letter to give to Rowe. He told me not to read it—which was probably not wise. I don’t think I would have if he hadn’t made it so off limits. I steamed it open in the shower room, but you can totally tell I butchered the envelope. I think I’ll just admit it to Rowe. She won’t care.
The words in his letter…they were everything I want Ty to say to me in so many ways. Those boys are special. And I hope he and Rowe can figure things out.
I’ve been waiting at the window for an hour for the cab to drop Rowe off. I used to wait for my grandparents to show up on the holidays like this, my chair pulled right up to the windowsill and my face pressed on the glass. The thought makes me smile, so I breathe frost onto the window glass and draw a heart with Ty’s name in the middle. I feel silly and childish after, so I pull my sleeve over my wrist and erase it.
When the cab pulls up and Rowe steps out with her small bag, I slide my chair back from the window and step up on my bed and start jumping. I’ve missed her, more than I thought. And seeing her face when she walks into the room almost makes me cry.
“Yayyyyyyyy!” I actually scream when she comes in, like a child waiting for the fair to come to town.
“Uh…yeah. Yay,” she says, looking at me like I’m a weirdo. Okay, maybe I’m a little overexcited. I’ve been alone for a full day, and the halls are empty, and it was getting to me. I’ve studied for my sign language final so much that I now feel qualified to teach the course.
Once Rowe gets settled in, we go to the dining hall, which is also empty, like a scene from The Stand. I fill my plate, I’ve been carb loading, probably from all of the running and workouts I’ve been doing. I tend to stress-eat, and finals, along with everything else, have been stressful.
“So, I’m officially on the team,” I tell Rowe, and she smiles, happy for me, but still not quite herself. She’s mourning her old boyfriend, and I think she’s also mourning her relationship with Nate. I hope she gives him a chance.
“I guess that means you’ll be pretty busy this spring?” she asks.
“Not any more than I have been. Instead of workouts, we’ll have games. Soccer isn’t like baseball and football. Women’s sports, we sort of get the shaft,” I say. I want to ask her if she’ll be here next semester, but I’m afraid to open that door, so I just take her interest in my schedule as a sign that she will be.
She turns her attention to my overstuffed tray of food, picking on my lack of healthy choices, and when she jokes with me I can see glimpses of my Rowe. It almost feels like that first week of school again. The campus is empty, and Rowe and I nervously make our way back to our room, spending the rest of the night watching TV.
It’s nice not sleeping alone. Last night—without Ty, without anyone—was hard. I don’t think I ever fully fell asleep. The dorm hallways are full of strange noises at night, the creaking of the heating pipes, the echo in the hallway when someone shuts a door from far away. Even the sounds from the outside creep into the inside when nobody is around. I started to focus on the chirping crickets and the occasional car driving by.