Marianna Baer - Frost

I shut my laptop and rushed to the bathroom. For some reason, I hadn’t expected her to arrive this early.

I rinsed and dried my face, put my glasses on, checked my reflection in the mirror, tightened my ponytail. Celeste was just another person. No need to be nervous.

She and David stood in the middle of the bedroom. A chunky cast on her left leg peeked out of a full-skirted white dress with Mexican-style embroidery and a turquoise sash. The cast was painted gold, her toenails neon orange. Her thick, dark brown hair was longer than I’d ever seen it, halfway down her back. Despite a tan, her face seemed drawn, emphasizing the bone structure she shared with David.

He was wearing a thin, white T-shirt and faded black jeans, cut off at the knee. I had a sudden realization that he’d been in my dream last night. The details were fuzzy. Still, I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, Celeste,” I said. “I’m really sorry about your accident.”

“Yeah, it sucks. For you, too. Right?” She hopped over and gave me a wiry-arm hug. “David told me you didn’t even know until you got here. What assholes.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’ll be fun.”

She let out a little snort. “You say that now.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

“Much as I like hearing you charm people,” David said to his sister, “I’m gonna get going. Once you thank me for setting up your stuff, that is.”

Celeste glanced around distractedly. “Oh, crap,” she said. “Did I forget to pack the beetle photo?”

“No,” David said. “It’s in the closet. I thought Leena might not appreciate having it hanging.”

“Leena doesn’t care,” Celeste said as if she could possibly know this. “The RISD admissions woman loved it.”

“Fine.” David sounded exasperated. “I’ll hang it later. Now, are you going to thank me? Or what?”

“Thank you. You did a very nice job. Sure you aren’t gay?”

He turned to me. “If she acts up, I’ll loan you my Taser.” He smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back way too widely, both because David was so cute and because as Celeste’s lab partner, I’d definitely have taken him up on his offer a few times.

“Call if you need anything,” he said to Celeste. “And don’t make Leena regret letting you live here.”

He held out a fist. Celeste bumped it twice, then they pressed their palms together, hers tiny next to his. A small hollow opened in my chest, the place where a sibling would fit.

David left. As I listened to his receding footsteps, I had an irrational impulse to call after him, to tell him not to leave me alone with his sister.

“Pretty room,” Celeste said, sitting down on her bed. “Too many windows, though. Like being in a fishbowl.” She sucked in her cheeks and made fishy lips.

“Oh, well …” I said. “No one’s ever in the backyard. Did you see the smaller room with our desks across the hall? And we’ve got our own bathroom. The fixtures are old and funky, but the water pressure is good.” I caught myself before droning on. “Sorry, I sound like my mother, the realtor.”

“Anyone else on the first floor?”

“Just Ms. Martin, our house counselor. Her apartment takes up the whole front.”

“I had her for history freshman year. She’s kind of a twat. Who’s upstairs?”

“Abby Brenner and Vivian Parker-White.”

“Not sure if I know them. I’m terrible with names. What did I always call you in chem?”

“Lisa.”

“Oh, right. Leena’s much better.” Celeste reached back and began twisting her hair into a knot. “I like your glasses,” she said. “They counteract the dumb-blond thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not that you’re dumb. Just that with your big boobs and blondie-blond hair you could look it. Black glasses help.”

I refrained from saying thank you, the way I should have when she made the comment about my butt that first day of chem. Anyway, my hair isn’t that blond—sort of a caramel color. And as for my boobs, they’re only a C—hardly enormous.

“David’s noticed you,” Celeste continued. “I can tell. Do you like him? Or do you already have a fuck-buddy?”

Fuck-buddy?

“Uh, no.”

“You don’t think he’s hot? I was kidding about that gay thing.”

She talked this way about her own brother?

“I meant, no, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

And didn’t want one this semester, for numerous reasons, even if he wasn’t related to my nutty roommate. Not that I would have minded if Celeste was right and David had noticed me. No objections there.

“Me neither, at the moment,” she said, pushing herself up to stand. “I had a thing with this amazing guy over the summer. The bassist for Wishmaker. Do you know them? Anyway, I was completely in love, but he ended up being all obsessed and stalkerish, so I had to go through this big mess to get out of it. Really sucked. Maybe there’s a guy here who has a cast fetish.”

“I have to run the peer-counseling orientation for new students in a little bit,” I said, grateful I had an excuse to leave. “Do you need to use the bathroom, or anything, before I shower?”

“Nope.” Celeste’s back was to me as she looked through her closet. “Something stinks over here,” she muttered, shutting the door. I grabbed Cubby off the windowsill and hid her in the towel I was carrying. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was taking a wooden owl with me to the bathroom.

On my way out, Celeste picked up the family snapshot off her dresser.

“That’s a nice picture,” I said. “I was so sorry to hear—”

“Look.” She turned to face me. “I don’t know what big-mouth David told you, but let’s get something straight. I do not discuss my father. Got it? Do. Not. Discuss. My. Father.”

“Okay. But if you ever want to talk—”

“I won’t,” she said. “Ever.” She shoved the photo into her top drawer, all the way at the back. “David doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. I hope you do.”

“I guess, yeah. I mean, I do.”

“And speaking of David’s big mouth, I want you to know I didn’t do it on purpose.” She tapped one of her crutches against her cast. “I know he thinks I did.”

“He told me it was an accident,” I said.

“I’m just telling you. Don’t believe everything he says. He thinks I’m some sort of delicate creature. I’m not. Okay?”

“Okay.” Although I’d known Celeste for longer than I’d known her brother, if I’d had to trust one of them, I would have picked David.

In any case, I didn’t need to worry about it right now. I had a presentation in front of two hundred students to get through. I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower in the claw-foot tub. While waiting for the water to heat up, I lifted off Cubby’s head. My first semester at Barcroft, I was embarrassed about a prescription I was taking for a urinary tract infection, so I’d hidden the pills in here. Since then, Cubby had become my quirky portable medicine cabinet.

I took out the folded piece of paper that lay on top: a list I’d made of the pills’ usage and dosage information. I didn’t keep them in their boxes or bottles, but in tiny plastic baggies, labeled with a Sharpie— Tylenol PM, Sudafed Sinus & Cold, Ativan ….

All I needed this morning was one of the round, white antianxiety pills. That should do it. My body’s nervous, physical reactions got in the way when I made presentations. The antianxiety medicine was for emergencies. Not spazzing out in front of the new students definitely qualified.

After showering and brushing my teeth, I went back in the bedroom.

Celeste stood holding her vase of orange tulips. “What was David thinking?” she asked me. The flowers hung limply, leaves a sickly yellow, petals shriveled. The last time I’d noticed, they hadn’t even opened the whole way—nowhere near dying. Across the room, my three were still in the flush of early bloom. They were from the same bunch. How could only hers have died?