Frost - Marianna Baer

we left.

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“They leaked,” she said. “A welcome-back present from the

house.”

Enough to get her bed that wet? “Was someone in our room

while we were gone?” I asked.

“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “No one. Look, I switched

rooms to give you some privacy and because I can’t sleep over

there. What’s the big deal? You don’t mind, do you? Why would

you mind? It’s better for both of us.”

“I guess,” I said. And, truthfully, having my own room was

the one good thing that had come from this mess. “But the way

you did it . . .”

“I shouldn’t have come back early,” she said. “I’m impulsive.

You know that. And, okay, maybe I wasn’t expecting things with

you and David to move that fast. I thought you— Whatever. It’s

not important. I shouldn’t have left. And I’m sorry. But I’m fine.

This new room arrangement is going to fix everything.”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

I shut myself in the bathroom and stood under the shower

and made a decision. Celeste had been very clear, again—if

something was wrong, she didn’t want me interfering. She

wanted her own room, her separate life. And that’s what I’d

wanted right from the beginning, wasn’t it? The less I knew, the

less I had to keep from David. She hadn’t shown any concern for

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the rest of us when she’d come back from New York like that, no

matter what her reason. So, fine. Our own rooms. Our own lives.

I spent most of the day with David, a large part of it lying on

his bed as he tried to distract me from worrying about Abby and

Viv and the disciplinary committee. We listened to almost

everything on his iPod—from James Brown to Eminem; he

described in detail the gourmet meal he wanted to cook for me

one day soon; he tried to explain the math he was doing (all I

really understood was that it was called topology and had

something to do with a donut and a coffee cup being the same

thing); he told me stories about better times with their father. All

of this interspersed with sweetly intense bouts of kissing. He was

obviously trying to distract himself, too, from worrying about

Celeste, because by midafternoon he’d asked me “how I’d

thought she seemed” one too many times.

I propped myself up on my elbow. “New rule,” I said.

“Rule?” David said. “Are your rules as strict as your

moratorium was?”

I punched his shoulder. “Listen. Seriously. Now that you and I

are, you know, together , I really think it’s best if you . . . if we

don’t talk about your sister as much. I don’t want to always feel

like I’m your source of information. Okay? I want to keep things a

little more separate.” For an instant, I had the horrible thought

that maybe the only reason he even wanted to be close to me

was to find out stuff about his sister, but then he said, “Yeah,

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you’re probably right.” He ran a hand through my loose hair,

fingers getting caught in a tangle. “Could get messy.”

“So, good rule?” I said, relieved.

“Good rule.”

The six of us met with the disciplinary committee on

Tuesday. Later that night, in some sort of masochistic haze, I

decided to listen to Viv and Cam’s show on WBAR, but there was

a guest host. I supposed they wanted to spend their last night

together alone.

Cam had to leave school on Wednesday.

The rest of us, as promised, had gotten probation.

Walking across campus Wednesday afternoon, I saw

Cameron’s car—filled with belongings—in the parking area next

to his dorm. He and Viv stood outside of it. Even from the other

side of the Great Lawn, I could tell by the stoop of her shoulders

and Cameron’s hand stroking her back that Viv was crying.

I dropped my gaze to the ground and hurried along, the path

becoming a muddy, gray blur.

Once I got home I headed straight for the closet. I wanted to

know that it would be okay, that I’d be okay, even without Viv,

like I’d told myself in here the other night. I stroked Cubby’s

feathers. I just needed to know that I could get past how much it

hurt.

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In here you can , her voice said.

On Thursday, Dean Shepherd told me she wanted me to step

down from peer counseling.

“You understand,” she said. “We can’t have the mixed

message of someone in a leadership position like that getting into

trouble.” There was a hint of sympathy in her voice, but it didn’t

do anything to make me feel better.

I couldn’t hide my desperation as I spoke. “What if I just step

down as cohead? But keep counseling? Could I do that?”

“Maybe next semester. I doubt it, though,” she said.

Had I thought she’d sounded sympathetic a moment ago?

Because now, I didn’t see how there was any chance she felt

anything but derision and disappointment. The horrible feeling it

gave me was even worse than knowing I wasn’t a part of my

program anymore. I hated myself more than she ever could.

Later that day, David and I took a walk through the

arboretum at the edge of campus. A few trees were still lit up

with flame-colored foliage; mostly, I saw the brown leaves under

our feet. I told David how I’d messed up not only my friendships

with Viv, Abby, and Dean Shepherd, but also my one meaningful

extracurricular. I told him I had nothing left.

“What about me?” he said, sounding hurt.

I wrapped my arm around his waist and squeezed.

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Thank God. I had David. And I had my house.

I was incredibly relieved that my room was tucked in the

back, and on a separate floor from Viv’s and Abby’s, so I didn’t

have constant reminders that Frost House was now a divided

territory. I couldn’t have handled listening to their muffled voices

and laughter, or the sounds of their sock feet on the wooden floor

going back and forth between each other’s rooms. As for Celeste,

in the days since we came back from New York, I’d barely seen

her. My space was truly my own and I wasn’t going to let the

opportunity go to waste.

The Saturday after we got back, I made a rare call to my dad

to ask if I could buy some supplies at Home Depot on his credit

card. He said yes—probably partly out of shock at hearing from

me, and partly because he always likes to support home

improvement.

As I walked across the store’s parking lot, I found myself

scanning the cars for his orange Subaru, even though this Home

Depot was about an hour from his condo. Going to any sort of

hardware store without him never felt quite right.

I began in the paint department. After a long period of

deliberation, I chose a very light sky color, called “Blue Heaven.” I

got brushes, rollers, trays, Spackle, and drop cloths. I considered

buying a ladder, but they were too expensive, so I decided I’d just

borrow one from maintenance.

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Next, I found all the supplies I’d need for wall-mounted

shelves.

In the garden department, I chose tulip and daffodil bulbs to

plant in the backyard that would bloom next spring, and a couple

of houseplants to hang in my room, along with the necessary wall

brackets.

Then I got an egg-crate–foam-mattress pad and a brass,

sliding bolt lock.

The closet needed an upgrade, too.

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Chapter 28

“ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT I don’t want you in my room

anytime soon.”

“Nice,” David said from the other end of the phone. “This is

how you treat me?”

I scooped some more Spackle onto my knife. “I just want it to

be a surprise. Give me a couple of weeks. Then you can be over

here whenever you want. I promise.”

“All right,” he said in a tone of resignation. “What are you

doing tonight?”

“Studying, I guess.”

“Want to come over and do it here?”

“If you let me get some work done,” I said, scraping the

whitish paste over another small hole in the wall. “I’ve got to

seriously start working if I want to have any chance at Columbia.

I’ve never been this behind before.”

“Speaking of Columbia,” he said, “Paul, the guy who owns

the restaurant I might work in, wants to meet with me over

Thanksgiving. So I was thinking you could come down and we

could spend a couple of days in the city together.”

When I’d mentioned to David that Columbia was on my list

of long shots, he’d started talking as if it was a given that we’d

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want to be in the same city. Every time he talked that way, I

wanted to die of happiness. We’d only been a couple for a week,

but I already felt like he was a central fixture in my life. I couldn’t

believe I’d even hesitated. Our togetherness seemed so obvious,

and inevitable. Sort of like the way I’d felt when I’d moved into

Frost House.

I spotted some holes midway up the wall that needed to be

filled. “That’d be great,” I said, stepping up on the chair. “But I

always go to Abby’s parents’ place for Thanksgiving.”

“Do you think you’ll do that this year?” he asked carefully.

I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I wouldn’t.

“Probably,” I said. I’d gone the last three years. Her parents

owned a bed-and-breakfast farm in Maine. I loved visiting them.

Abby had to have forgiven me by then. Right? I wasn’t sure how

many more weeks I could take with her and Viv not talking to me.

Or even how many more days. . . .

“Well, if you come to New York,” he said, “you can check out

where I might end up living. This guy Paul knows is going to be

subletting his place and it would actually be affordable if I get a

roommate.”

“A roommate?” I scooped a bit more Spackle from the

bucket.

“Yeah. With New York prices, I’ll be lucky to have only one

roommate.”

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“Huh. I wonder if . . .” My heart thudded harder and faster as

I strained to reach the next hole.

“If what?”

“If I’d have to live in a dorm at Columbia. I mean, maybe I’m

being crazy, but what if we shared a place?”

“Lived together?”

Crap. Why had I said that? Same city is one thing, but this

would probably completely freak him out. “Yeah, forget it. I was

just thinking that financially, it might . . . but I’m being—”

“No, Leena. It’s a great idea. I’d love to have you as a

roommate. Obviously.”

“Really? You would?” I said. “Because living with you is

probably the one thing that would make me psyched to leave

Frost House.”

All of a sudden, the earth tipped. I saw myself falling before

it happened, then it did happen. The chair toppled backward. My

cell and Spackle knife flew out of my hands. I pitched toward the

floor, hit with a thud, landing partially on top of the overturned

chair. Pain flared through me.

“Shit,” I said. “Oww!”

I rolled onto my side. After a second, I inched over and

grabbed my phone.

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“Are you there? Leena? Leena?” David was saying.

“Oww. I fell. It hurts.”

“Are you okay? Jesus, you scared me.”