The moment I walk through the door, everyone stops and looks at me. Mia pushes her way to the front. “So?”
“So what?” I ask, not quite understanding what she’s referring to.
She groans. “Don’t do that to us, Chief. That is so not funny.”
I glance around the room at my staff. My amazing, wonderful, talented staff. I want to hug all of them. But they’re staring at me like relatives in a hospital lobby, waiting for me to announce whether someone has lived or died.
Well, everyone except Horace, who’s hunched over his computer, playing his game.
I scan the room, taking in each and every one of their faces. Until my gaze lands on Laney and my breath catches in my throat. She’s sitting way in the back of the room and she’ll barely meet my eye.
I don’t know why everyone is staring at me like that, but first things first.
“Laney,” I say in the gentlest voice I have. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”
“Oh God,” Mia says, collapsing into a chair. “It’s bad. It’s bad news.”
Laney tentatively rises to her feet, looking nervous. She follows me into the hallway and I close the door behind her.
“I have to talk to you about something,” I say.
Laney’s eyes dart left and right, like she’s looking for witnesses. There’s actually fear in her eyes as she asks, “Is it about the newspaper?”
“No, it’s about us.”
“Us?” she repeats, like she’s never heard the word before.
“Yes.”
She looks completely distrustful. “You’ve barely said two words to me in a month and now you want to talk about us?”
I let out a relenting sigh. So I’ve been ignoring her this whole time. I assumed as much. I was so angry at her, I was so blinded by that anger I could barely see straight. Whatever version of myself I left behind—whoever has been living this life, walking these halls, manning this paper for the past month—had no reason to forgive her. But I’m not that person anymore.
I’m not the Kennedy Rhodes who chose Austin. And I’m not the Kennedy Rhodes who chose Windsor.
I’m somewhere in between.
I’m some combination of the two.
And this new version of me wants her best friend back.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you.” I swallow. “And Austin.”
She squints at me like I’m out of focus. “Is this a joke?”
I shake my head. “I’ve had some time to think about everything. And I realize that you two belong together. He and I were never meant to be. I know that now.”
“But…” she begins to argue. “I was a terrible friend to you. I never should have done what I did.”
I shake my head. “No. I was the bad friend. I was never there for you. And I want to be better. I want to fix this. Do you think we can do that? Do you think we can be friends again?”
Laney looks like she’s about to say something, but just then we’re distracted by the sound of yelling. “Ow! Get off my foot!”
Laney and I both look over to see practically the entire newspaper staff pressed against the window in the door, trying to hear what we’re saying.
She laughs. “Everyone’s been waiting for you to get back.”
“Back?”
“Yeah, you went home to check the mail, remember.” Her eyes suddenly light up. “Oh, wait! Did you get in?”
I beam. “Yeah!”
“That’s incredible!” She leaps forward to hug me. It’s not hesitant or cautious. She doesn’t hold anything back. She hugs me like she used to hug me. When she was congratulating me. When she was comforting me. When she was supporting me. The way I need to start supporting her.
It feels so good. And in that moment, I know that her answer is yes.
We can fix this.
We can be friends again.
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s incredible, all right. Especially since I totally bombed my alumni interview.”
Laney swats this away with her hand. “I’m sure you didn’t bomb it. I’m sure you did better than you thought. Columbia was probably so impressed by you, the interview didn’t even matter! You probably could have kicked the interviewer in the balls and still gotten in!”
I crack a smile. “The interviewer was a woman.”
“My point is,” Laney goes on, undeterred, “you’re always so hard on yourself.”
I release a sigh. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I would have gotten in no matter what I did inside that woman’s living room. Maybe I didn’t need the fancy school or the fancy résumé, or even the perfect interview. Maybe I did it all on my own.
Maybe I can start cutting myself a little slack.
“Eew!” Mia shouts through the newspaper office door. “Ethan! Stop breathing in my face.”
“Well, then stop putting your face near my mouth!” Ethan shouts back.
Laney chuckles. “You should probably get back in there and check your email before Mia bursts a lung.”
“Check my email?” I ask in confusion.
Laney snorts. “Two minutes after getting into Columbia and you’ve already forgotten about us? Hello? The Spartan Press Award? The committee sent out the results via email at four o’clock. Ring any bells? We’ve all been dying in there.”
Oh my God! I completely forgot. Today is the day. December 15. Early decision letters and the Spartan Press Award results!
I dash back into the room, shoving through the crowd by the door. Laney pushes her way after me and hovers behind my chair as I log in to one of the computers and navigate to my school email address.
Everyone sees the email at the top of my inbox and a simultaneous yelp pierces the room, followed by a hushed, anticipatory silence.
I reach for Laney’s hand. She squeezes reassuringly. I pause with my finger on the mouse button, ready to click. Ready to see my future. All of our futures.
As I sit in that chair with my best friend by my side and my entire newspaper staff huddled around me chanting “Four years in a row! Four years in a row!” I realize that it doesn’t matter what that email says. It doesn’t matter if we fill that display case with a thousand more gold trophies.
Because, right now, I feel like I’ve already won.