We Are Us

Chapter 10 Worthington University

Fall Semester, Freshman Year

“I think that’s the last of it,” my mom says, blowing a piece of hair off her damp forehead and surveying the bags and boxes we’d stacked near the narrow closet.

She’s taken the day off work to drive me to school, but I can tell all the happy, two-parent families—especially the fathers hauling suitcases and trunks up and down the stairs, their sweaty faces beaming with pride—are making her uncomfortable. Now that her car is unpacked, she’s hovering by the open door, half in, half out of my dorm room. Eager to escape.

I don’t have it in me to manage my mother’s emotions right now. I can barely manage my own.

Frankly, I just want her and my sister to leave so I can walk over to the administration building. I’ve called several times, but no one will tell me whether Gavin has registered as an incoming freshman yet. If I don’t have more success in person, I’m prepared to stake out every dorm until I find him…

If he’s here.

Out of habit, I lift my hand to my neck, my fingers closing over the moonstone pendant Gavin gave me for my birthday. This necklace, a few pictures, and hope are all I have left of him. Hope that he’ll show up here, to Worthington University. Just like we’d pla

Last spring, when I finally made it into the preserve after the Nor’easter storm slammed Sackett, I’d found our cave completely flooded. I returned every day for weeks, searching the cave itself and the surrounding area as the water receded. But it was no use. The only thing I found of even the slightest interest was a phone, the kind you buy at a gas station. It was caked in mud a few feet from the entrance to our cave. I tried to turn it on, but the wiring must have short-circuited after being submerged for so long.

Whatever Gavin left for me was either destroyed or lost.

As of today, I’m officially a Worth U student. I’ve been dreaming about it for as long as I can remember. Dreaming of starting a new life. But without Gavin, everything about this place, this day, this new life… feels all wrong.

“Thanks for your help.” I muster up what I hope is at least a shadow of an appreciative grin for my mom and sister. “Why don’t I walk you out—”

But Sadie is in no hurry to leave. She crosses the room, ru

Surveying the other side of my room, my spirits sink even lower. Of course, I would get paired with a diva.

By the looks of it, an advance team of interior designers had arrived at dawn to renovate exactly fifty percent of our shared room. Both sides have a bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk. But mine are clearly school-issued and hers are… not.

Real artwork, as opposed to sticky-taped posters, hang on the wall behind her upholstered headboard. And the bed itself has been raised off the floor, three bunching chests arranged beneath. Her chair is sleek white leather, her desk made of glass and chrome. And above her dresser, the mirror is extra-wide, with lighting strips adhered to the perimeter, like it belongs in a backstage dressing room.

The overall effect is disconcerting, like standing inside a Before and After photo.

I frown as Sadie sits down on the bed, bouncing a little on the mattress. “We haven’t even met her yet.”

“Yeah, but look at all her stuff. She must be loaded.”

Finally, picking up on the disparity my sister pointed out, my mom’s bloodshot eyes bounce from one side of the room to the other. “Maybe you can pick up a few things to brighten things up.”

What this room really needs is a wall down the middle of it.

“You know, if she decides not to show, I could probably come up here on weekends and—”

I flash Sadie an exasperated look. “If you really want to be here, you should spend more time reading textbooks than romance novels.”

Sadie just rolls her eyes. Studying is not her thing. If she’s not obsessing over her current crush, she’s curled up with a fictional book boyfriend. I think all those contrived endings have Sadie convinced that her life will play out like a plot written by her favorite author. The cute, quirky girl lands the sexy, brilliant, rich sports star and they live happily ever after.

I used to believe in happy endings, too.

Now I know better.

Fairy tales don’t come true for everyone. Some girls kiss their prince and he turns into a frog, then hops away.

“Excuse me.” The polite words are delivered like a reprimand by a tall, thin blonde standing in the hall.

My mom steps aside, my sister jumping off the bed, wearing a guilty expression as she crosses back to my side of the room.

The blonde strides into the room, immediately followed by her slightly younger looking replica. They are both wearing dark jeans, narrow belts, and fitted white shirts.

“Which of you girls is Poppy?” says the one who is either an older sister or a mother with a plastic surgeon on speed dial.

Feeling at a disadvantage, I immediately regret ignoring the letter I’d received with my roommate’s contact information. It was sent a few weeks ago, to encourage incoming freshmen to get to know each other before move-in day.

Then again, she hadn’t reached out to me either.

“That’s me,” I say.

“Lovely.” She gestures at her mini-me. “I’m sure you and Wren will have a fantastic year together.”

Wren and I regard each other silently, mutual doubts piling up between us.

“I’m Sadie, Poppy’s sister.” For once, I appreciate Sadie’s unwillingness to be ignored.

“Lovely. I’m Cecelia Knowles, Wren’s mother.” Her slender neck twists back toward the door. “And you must be …”

“Poppy’s mom,” she acknowledges, a hand fluttering over her throat.

Mrs. Knowles’s polite smile drops a bit when my mom shows no sign of volunteering her first name. I almost want to explain that my mom doesn’t mean to be unfriendly, it’s just the way she is. Always an extension of something—Sadie’s mom, Poppy’s mom, Dr. Rankin’s receptionist. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard her introduce herself as herself, Emily Whitman.

But, of course, I don’t, and the awkward moment ends when Mrs. Knowles turns her attention to her daughter’s side of the room, opening drawers and peering into the closet, flicking on the desk lamp.

Wren is only carrying a backpack, which she sets on her chair.

“I have orientation soon,” I say, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. There’s nothing left for my mom and sister to do, and if Gavin is here, I need to find him.

He has to be here.

Eager to be off, my mom comes toward me with outstretched arms, smelling slightly acidic and oaky, like Chardo

I walk them back down to the parking lot, smiling and waving as if there isn’t a fist of fear twisting and turning inside my stomach. I’m not scared about being on my own or getting good grades. I’m terrified that today is the day I’ll have to face a truth I’ve been denying for months. That Gavin is gone… and he’s never coming back.

Once the taillights of my mom’s battered Honda disappear into a line of receding cars, I jog across campus toward the main quad. A pere