Somber now, Oscar leads me out of the hallway and around the corner, looking for a private place to talk. He chooses the girls’ toilet, an interesting move, but it’s probably cleaner than the guys’. I check all the stalls, and then he wedges the door closed with the chip of wood that’s supposed to prop it open. For good measure I move the trash can, too.
“This is a huge deal, Morgan. You understand just how ugly this could get? I’ll blur your face, but it’s possible you still might be identified. Hell, that asshole’s PR team might even drop your name to the media.”
“He’s already raised the stakes.” I give Oscar an edited version of last night’s events and show him the scrapes on my back.
“Shit, yeah. This is probably your best move. Make it too hot for him to screw with you.”
“Figuratively or literally.”
“As long as you’re sure, I’ll stop by the public library after school and complete the job. I’ll include an outraged, This girl was fifteen! complaint in the e-mail.”
“Thanks.” Since anyone can walk in and use those ancient computers, it should be nearly impossible to tell who sent the message if Oscar opens an e-mail account for this purpose and never uses it again. “What about the cameras?”
“There’s a blind spot in the back row,” Oscar answers at once.
I’m curious how he knows that, but his smile says he doesn’t plan to tell me. Right now I’m so relieved that I want to hug him, but that’s not Morgan’s style, and Oscar isn’t the cuddly type, either. “I honest to God don’t know what I’d have done if you didn’t have backups.”
“Please, who do you think you’re talking to?”
“Yeah, you’re awesome. I need to repay you for your help.”
Just then, someone thumps on the door, and I hurriedly unblock it. Emma Lin bursts in, looking queasy, but she stops when she sees Oscar and me. He just grins and I try to imagine how Morgan would play this, as it’s really far out of Liv territory. Before dying, I never skipped a class in my life.
Nervous, I go for a bored smile. “Feel free,” I say. “We’re done in here.”
“You and Oscar…?” Her dark eyes are too shiny, her voice tremulous.
Oh, shit. Does Emma like him? Lots of people do, but if he’s had a hook-up, nobody in Renton knows about it. Plus, as I observed before, the art kids don’t date their own.
“This was a business meeting.” Oscar saunters out, leaving Emma to dodge into a stall and me to exit with somewhat less panache.
By this point, first period is a quarter over. I’m planning to skip and study my science notes, but I check that Oscar’s okay first. “You won’t have trouble getting back into class?”
“Nah. I’m good with teachers. I’ll text you after it’s done.”
“Could you message me now? Remember, that asshole deleted all my contacts.” Again.
“Oh right. No problem.”
A few seconds later, my phone beeps with a message that just reads, Hey. I promptly save his info and snap a picture so I’ll get his face with later texts instead of the generic avatar. Somehow I’ve walked him to class without meaning to. I could go in with him, but then people would talk. I suspect Emma won’t say anything about our bathroom strategy session.
I review in the library until it’s time for the classes I’ll still be attending after the schedule change. More studying through lunch and soon the day is over. The art kids have all sent texts, probably because of Oscar, so I reply to all of them, but Emma’s is the only one that really requires a decision.
Emma: Do you want to hang out?
This has to be because she wants to know more about what Oscar and I have going on, but … I’m lonely for female friends. When I had Morgan, I didn’t need anyone else, and I miss every damn thing about her even as I am her. We were yin and yang, a complete circle. Now there’s a hole in my life. It doesn’t mean Emma is the one who can fill it, but she’s … asking. Her party is where everything ended, so maybe this is exactly right.
Sure, I send back. What did you have in mind?
We could go to the mall.
I’m typing a response when I spot her waiting by the front doors and the idea of texting when I can see her makes me laugh. I put away my phone and quicken my steps. She lifts a hand to signal me. The whispers around me are kind of mean—“Morgan and Emma Lin?” “Oh, look, Morgan’s chosen her new sidekick.”
Ignoring that, I say, “I have my car here. I’ll drive.”
“Cool. I got a ride with my brother anyway.”
“He’s a senior, right?” Like Liv, Emma is a junior, so I can see why people might misunderstand, like I’m looking for a substitute.
But it’s not about replacing Liv. It’s about making different choices as Morgan. Sure, I could be an ice princess for another nine months and then leave Renton behind me in a cloud of dust, but that’s not how I want to spend my last year in school. If other people have gotten the chance to reinvent themselves so completely, I don’t know about it. And since I can choose what kind of person I’ll be, going forward, maybe I can incorporate the best of Liv and Morgan.
“You know Jay?”
“Only in passing. I think we had a class or two together freshman year.”
Emma smiles, obviously unsure if this is a good idea, so she must really be devoted to Oscar. “He had a huge crush on you then. Oh God, he’ll kill me if he finds out I told you.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “The secret’s safe with me.”
You’d be surprised how much of a vault I am.
“So you’re still dating Clay?” she asks as I unlock the car via remote and we hop inside.
I shake my head. “We broke up last night, actually.”
There’s no point in hiding the news. People will find out sooner or later, and it’s not like the relationship failed in a way that embarrasses me. In fact it’s about as sweet a rejection as anyone ever received. He left because his brother loves me. But I can’t see Nathan like I did before; too much has happened, and there’s no going back.
“Man, I really put my foot in it,” she mutters.
I start the car and back out of the parking spot before responding. “It’s not a big deal. Since I’m leaving next fall, it’s not like we had some big future planned anyway.”
Now that’s something Morgan would say, for sure.
“As long as you’re not sad or anything.”
“I’m as good as anyone ever is afterward. No need for ice cream and tears.”
We’ve driven halfway to the mall, and I remember how Clay brought me here. This shouldn’t be my prevailing impression since I went with Nathan a lot more, and yet what I remember is holding Clay’s hand and feeling for the first time like everything might be okay. Like the rock that never shifted beneath my feet, I thought he was the one constant in my life, only to find he had a fault line that ran deep as the San Andreas—fraternal loyalty.
Maybe I can’t be with Clay, but I can’t stop missing him, either.