Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [65]
“Hello, Shipley,” Professor Rosen called down to her from the stage. “You just missed a fabulous performance. But you’ll be here for the real thing on Saturday of course.”
“Definitely,” Shipley agreed, blushing beneath Adam’s steady gaze.
“Tom went back to the dorm,” Nick called from atop his ladder. He sneezed. A shower of backlit germs rained down on the stage. “Hey, is he, like, lit up enough? Can you see him?”
Nick’s earflap hat was askew. He looked very professional up on that ladder. Eliza stuck her chest out even though she was wearing her full-length black down coat. “I can see him fine.” She turned to Shipley. “Hey, I forgot to tell you, Tom cut Portraiture today. He missed a good class too. It was so fucking awesome. I got to wear this snake they borrowed from the Bio lab. I felt like a fucking goddess.”
Shipley was too busy staring back at Adam across the rows of seats to hear what Eliza was saying. His red hair shone in the hot white spotlight and his freckles danced around on his cheeks as he smiled at her.
“Hi,” he said.
She opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I’m sorry,” she said and spun around, using her entire body to force open the heavy black door.
“What the hell was that?” Eliza demanded, following Shipley into the Starbucks café. “Why’d you take off?”
“I don’t know.” Shipley put her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. She was out of breath even though she hadn’t been running. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket and lit one. “Patrick wasn’t there anyway. Where else should we look?”
“Hey, you can’t smoke in here!” the guy behind the counter called out.
Shipley tossed the smoldering cigarette into the trash. “I’d like a double shot of espresso,” she told the guy. “You want anything?” she asked Eliza.
“Make that two.” Eliza nudged Shipley with her elbow. “That guy Adam. You’re boning him, aren’t you?”
“No!” Shipley protested. She inhaled the pungent smell of freshly ground espresso beans. “Well, not really.”
Eliza grinned. “I knew it! You’re such a fucking slut!” She held up her palm for Shipley to slap. “I love that you’re fucking Tom over. Put it here, Slutcakes.”
Shipley grinned weakly. Eliza’s distaste for Tom had become a constant joke between them. “I’m not fucking anyone over,” she insisted. “I kissed Adam once. End of story. Tom is my boyfriend. You’ll see. As soon as he’s finished with his crazy top secret art project, we’ll all hang out together.”
“Motherfucking fuck!” Eliza pointed out the tall windows of the Student Union. Shipley’s black Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot across Homeward Avenue and swept downhill toward the interstate.
“That’s okay,” Shipley said, relieved. She had enough to think about without having to worry about Patrick. “He can’t go far. There’s hardly any gas in the tank.”
“You know if you really don’t want him to take your car, you could keep the keys in your pocket instead of leaving them on the tire,” Eliza suggested. “Then we could probably catch him.”
“You’re probably right,” Shipley responded. Maybe this time Patrick wouldn’t come back. He’d figure out a way to get more gas and just keep going.
They paid for their espressos and drank them on the spot. Shipley shivered violently. The rush of caffeine had given her the chills. She started toward the exit. “I need a cigarette. Come on.”
They headed down the walkway toward Coke. The Dexter chorale was gathered on the steps of the chapel, singing Christmas songs. “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie….” A steady stream of students trudged across the frozen quad, from the campus’s three dining halls to the grand Greek revival–style library, to begin the age-old ritual of cramming for exams. Tragedy was outside Coke, taping a neon orange flyer to a lamppost. Dressed in her father’s gray one-piece welder’s suit and a red-and-white-striped pom-pommed ski hat, she looked like a character