49

Aidan

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I’m the only resident of the top two floors of Pearl’s house.

When I got on the bus to Vickers, I imagined I’d be the one getting arrested that night, tossed in jail and kicked out of the program. But that was Wes and T.J., caught trying to cross the Canadian border with a trunk full of drugs, reeking of fear and desperation.

After finishing lunch with my parents, I’d made my excuses to return to Holsom that same afternoon. Seeing them sitting there, in the mess they’d both made, their co-dependency an illness they’ll never cure, I finally understood why the PPP tries to keep its students busy. It’s not so we’re so physically drained at the end of each day that we can’t get into trouble after hours; it’s not so we forget where we came from; it’s not even to break bad habits. It’s to give us perspective. To lift us out of the mire and show us what else awaits, so that when we’re confronted with the reality of our past, we see it for what it is—the past.

The first time I caught the bus from Vickers to Holsom, I wondered how long it would be before I fucked up and got sent back. This time when bus pulled away from the Vickers depot, I knew I was going home.

I’m lying on the antique red chesterfield, reading over my notes for tomorrow’s exam, when my phone rings. I scramble across the room to grab it out of my bag, hoping desperately—maybe pathetically—to see Aster’s name on the call display. I’ve texted her a couple of times since returning, but she hasn’t replied. Disappointing, but not surprising.

I look at the screen.

It’s Jim.

I sigh and answer the call.

I mean, at least it’s not Shamus. I’d apologized to him for abandoning the team on Sunday, and he’d used the opening to guilt-trip me into being team captain next year. Now I really don’t want to talk to him.

“Hello?”

“Aidan?” Jim says, sounding excited.

“Yep.” I take a seat on the couch and wince as a spring digs into my ass. I adjust my position but another spring pinches me. I give up and sit on the floor.

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” he says. Through the phone I can hear him typing frantically, probably calling up my class schedule to confirm I have one exam left before I’m free for the year. Well, free to move out of this place and into the cramped grounds crew staff accommodation for another summer.

“No,” I say. “It’s fine.” With Wes and T.J. in jail, Frisbee baseball over, classes done, and Aster freezing me out, I’ve spent more than enough time in my own company. Even Jim’s too-cheerful voice is relatively welcome.

“I’d like to see you, if you have a moment,” he says. More typing. “You’ve got an exam tomorrow...how about the day after? Can you come to my office?”

I picture Wes and T.J., sitting in jail, turning me in. Explaining how I’d gone to Vickers to steal cars. Selling me out like Aster’s brother had done to her.

“Um...” I consider the hole in the toe of my sock, the frayed cuffs of my jeans. I have so little to lose, but I was still stupid enough to risk it.

“It’s a good thing, Aidan,” Jim says, recognizing my hesitation. “In fact, it’s kind of a great thing.”

“Really?” The last great plan I had was to tell Aster I loved her and spend the whole night screwing on this very uncomfortable piece of furniture, and that had ended...badly.

“Yes, absolutely. Can I schedule you in for noon? Would that work?”

“Yeah,” I hear myself say, still doubtful. “Okay.”

* * *

I thought I was nervous about the exam, but the meeting with Jim overshadows that anxiety and leaves me a pacing, antsy mess in front of the PPP building, half an hour early for our appointment.

I would die for a cigarette right now, but instead of using my thirty minutes to jog over to the nearest store to buy a pack, I just keep pacing. Fortunately the campus is dead quiet at the moment, so there’s no one to witness my shaking, and when I can’t take it anymore, I walk inside, palms damp.

“Hi, Aidan,” Becca says, smiling at me warmly. “How are you?”

“Ah, just fine. I’m a bit early.”

“That’s all right. Let me tell Jim you’re here.”

I take a seat and stare at my hands, the tattoos I’d felt so badass and dangerous getting inked when I was eighteen. Ride hard.

What the fuck was I thinking? Yeah, they probably helped me seduce a few girls, but they have nothing to do with me, with who I am. None of them do. Maybe Aster wasn’t hiding her dents and dings because she was ashamed of them; maybe she was hiding them because they weren’t her anymore. The new coat of paint wasn’t a disguise; it was part of the renovation.

“Aidan.”

Jim’s voice startles me and I jerk in the seat, making him laugh. “Calm down,” he says, gesturing for me to come back. “It’s still good news, I promise.”

I stand to follow him. “I guess I haven’t had a lot of good news lately.”

He takes a seat at his desk and I do the same. “I suppose that’s true,” he says. “I’m sorry about your friends. Wes and T.J. were good guys who tried hard. But sometimes you only get one second chance.”

I turn over my hands so the tattoos are hidden. “Right.”

“Anyway,” he continues. “I won’t torture you any longer. I asked you to come in because I pitched your mentorship idea to the board, and they loved it. They especially love that the program has the potential to improve on itself, using senior students to champion the newcomers when they’re struggling.”

“Oh. Great.”

“And they’d like to get started right away. Well, beginning with the next school term. Which means we have all summer to get the details ironed out.”

“That’s good news.” It feels like it’s coming a little too late, like maybe if I’d had the idea sooner Wes and T.J. would have had someone else to turn to instead of dragging each other down.

“That’s hardly the best part,” Jim says, smiling. “I explained that we simply don’t have the resources to launch a pilot program without additional funding—and they approved it!”

I’m starting to suspect Jim told Becca this whole story and she didn’t get excited enough, so he checked his roster of students to find out who was still on campus and called me, the last lucky bastard still standing. “Congratulations,” I say eventually. “That’s...wonderful.”

“Aidan.” He’s practically buzzing with excitement. “The funding is for a summer student to help get the program off the ground. And who better to hire than the guy who came up with the idea?”

My mind goes blank. “I—What?”

“I know you’ve worked with the grounds crew for the last couple of summers, and Mack has only ever sung your praises, but I don’t think that’s tapping into your true potential.”

“He already hired me. I can’t just abandon...” I think about what Aster said that last night we fought. That I can do better. Be better. I think about Wes and T.J., sticking to their guns, even if it was the wrong call. My mom championing my dad through every predictable failure. “Can I really just...quit? Before I’ve started?”

“The decision is yours,” Jim says, though it’s clear he thinks the choice is obvious. “But the grounds crew job is part of the program, which means the funding is limited, which means you make pretty low pay. The position I’m offering you here is not part of the program—it’s part of the school, which means four months with an actual salary. Now, it doesn’t come with accommodation like the grounds crew job...”

I picture the brick bunkhouse on the far side of campus, a one-level structure filled with smelly, exhausted men each night.

“...but it pays enough to allow you to find a place off campus. Lots of units have opened up now that school is finished, and rent is reasonable since most of the students are gone. Aidan, I think it’s a great opportunity for you and I—”

I think about Aster. I think about her all the time, even though I try not to. I think about her calling me on my bullshit, telling me I can do better. And I try especially hard not to think about her telling me she could love me, if only I deserved it.

“Okay,” I tell Jim. “I’m in.”