The Education of Hailey Kendrick - Eileen Cook [31]
I stopped short. “Crossing the street can be riskier than you think. It can change everything.”
Drew tossed me a fresh roll of paper towels. “True. Thing is, Prima Donna, anything can be a game changer. The question is, why do you assume the change has to be bad?”
14
I sat up in bed, using my finger to hold my place in The Count of Monte Cristo. I thought I had heard something. I paused for a beat, but when I didn’t hear anything else, I went back to Dantes’s revenge plans. A door opened down the hall, and a burst of music shot into the hallway. I heard a bunch of girls giggle as they walked by. I waited to see if anyone would drop by my room, but they walked right past. There are few things sadder than doing homework on a Saturday night, not because you’re behind but because you have nothing else to do. I opened the book again, but the words marched back and forth across the page without making any sense. I chucked the book to the floor.
This was stupid. I had friends. They weren’t just Tristan’s friends, but we were never going to be able to hang out as a group if I couldn’t make things right with Tristan. He didn’t have to forgive me and throw his arms around me, but we couldn’t keep up the silent treatment. Every time I stumbled across Tristan, in the hallway for classes or in the dining hall, he would freeze. His entire body would go stiff as if he had been exposed to a nerve agent, and then he would turn away. I tried to smile or even say a quiet hello, but he looked straight past me as if I were invisible. It was time for me to talk to Tristan directly. Kelsie kept telling me to give him more time, but how was time going to help if it was time spent hating me? I looked over at my clock. There was an hour before the dorms were locked for the night. The one good thing about a school-wide restriction was that I knew where to find everyone.
I slipped across the quad into Tristan’s dorm. The guys’ dorm always smelled like a mix of Axe, sweat, and popcorn. In the front lobby there was a group playing some weird version of full contact soccer, where the sofa seemed to be one goal. There was no clear way to identify who was on what team, and a smaller group was trying to watch a sci-fi movie in the corner, while sitting on the same couch. Our dorm had Ms. Estes, but Tristan’s was monitored by Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington had served in the military before becoming a dorm monitor. There was a theory that he had some kind of post-traumatic stress syndrome and as a result was on heavy medication that kept him mellow. He couldn’t be bothered with enforcing the million small rules in the student guide. I guess if you were used to seeing people blowing themselves up trying to set roadside bombs, you couldn’t get too worked up about some fifteen-year-old kid forgetting to tuck in his uniform shirt. I wished I could live there. It was still a dorm, but it felt more like a home.
Tristan and Joel’s room was on the second floor. There was an open space near the top of the stairs that was supposed to be a public study area, but it had somehow morphed into being an extension of their room. Tristan had bought a big flat-screen TV that he’d plugged in out there, and no one turned it on without checking with him first. It was a strictly invitation-only public space. As I climbed the stairs, I could hear voices. It sounded like a decent-size crowd was hanging out. I could make out Joel and one of our friends, Aidan, debating if they wanted to order a pizza. They had the hockey game on. I’d practiced on the way over what I would do and say. Making a big deal out of it would only focus everyone on it, so my plan was to act casual. I took a deep breath and got ready to face Tristan.
“This is bogus. I had a date tonight,” Aidan said. “Just because Hailey got lucky, I can’t.”
I froze in