Frost - Marianna Baer

“That’s okay.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Is there

something you want to tell me, Leena?”

So it wasn’t me being in her room that had made him mad. A

pressure started in my chest. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.

You’re just making it worse.”

Celeste’s bruises? Was that what he meant? “David,” I said,

“I really don’t know what you mean. Honestly.”

300

“I know , Leena,” he said. “I know you were an hour late for

your Columbia interview. An hour late.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I said, stiffening. “Who told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

“No!”

David raised his eyebrows.

“Twenty minutes,” I said. “I was twenty minutes late.”

“Still. You’re never late. Why would you be twenty minutes

late for something so important?”

“It was an accident. Why are you so mad? Please, don’t be.” I

reached out and touched his arm, but he brushed my hand off.

“Why am I mad? Leena, if you cared about being in New York

with me, you wouldn’t have screwed up the interview. And you

lied to me about it, too.”

“I didn’t screw it up,” I said. “The interview itself was fine.

Look, don’t you want to go in the bedroom to talk?” Honestly, I

didn’t know how the interview had gone. Once I arrived I was in

such a state—blurry from sleeping, panicked at being late,

nervous about being unprepared—that I barely heard myself

answering the woman’s questions. It was probably a moot point,

anyway. Columbia had been a long shot. And I had blown it.

301

“Not particularly.” He leaned against the wall and rested one

foot on top of the other, his arms tightly crossed. I was in sock

feet, and he seemed to loom over me in a way he didn’t usually.

“That’s a whole other thing, the bedroom,” he said. “You’re

different in there. Here. In the dorm. You’re always so

preoccupied and nervous. The other day you couldn’t get me out

of here fast enough. When’s that going to change, Leena? Maybe

you just don’t want to be with me, is that it?”

I grasped his arm, but he shook me off again. Roughly. My

elbow jolted back into the edge of the door. Pain fired through

my nerves. “Of course I want to be with you,” I said, trying to

ignore the sharp pulsings. “Maybe I’ve been weird, but don’t you

know what a hard semester this has been for me? With Viv and

Abby and Dean Shephard all disowning me? Thank God I have

you! But maybe that’s why I’ve been acting weird, if I have been.”

My heart pounded. I couldn’t lose David, too.

But you will , Cubby said. The words, her voice, came to me

out of nowhere.

“What about when we fool around?” David said. Had he

heard Cubby? Had I said that out loud? “We’re talking about

moving in together. I can’t imagine you’ve been like this with

other guys.”

“No,” I said. Why had I imagined Cubby’s voice? “No, I

haven’t.”

302

“Doesn’t that tell you something? That this has all been a big

waste of time?”

“No, that’s not it. I promise. I haven’t been like this with

other guys because I haven’t been with any other guys.”

David shook his head as if he was clearing water from his

ears. “What do you mean? I thought you dated a couple other

people?”

“Yeah, but we . . . I . . . I only got together with them a few

times,” I said. “They wouldn’t . . . they wouldn’t really count in the

scheme of things. They weren’t relationships.”

David hesitated. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“What? Why I’m so incompetent?” I said.

“No, no. Come here.” He held his arms open. I hesitated a

moment, then let him wrap them around me. “It helps me

understand why it makes you nervous. I thought it was me.”

“David.” I tipped back my head to look up at him. “I’m scared

to death to leave school at the end of the year. And the only thing

that makes it seem bearable is that I’ll be with you.”

“Really? Because it seemed so strange about the

interview . . .”

“I know. I don’t know what that was about, honestly. It was

weird and not like me, and I didn’t even want you to find out. I

think maybe I was so nervous about it that I freaked.”

303

I remembered my feelings before the interview. Looking

back, they seemed as foreign as if they belonged to a stranger. All

I wanted was to live there with David. It was the only way I could

imagine feeling safe when leaving Barcroft. No matter what

Cubby said.

We stood there, his arms around me.

“Columbia was my first choice,” I said. “But it was a huge

long shot to begin with. There are other schools in New York.

NYU, The New School . . . or if I want to do architecture,

somewhere like Pratt or Parsons. I’ve been looking into them. It’ll

all work out. I’ll end up where I’m meant to be.”

“Just as long as it’s in New York, I don’t care about anything

else,” David said, pulling back a bit. “Hey, now that I know you

don’t want to get rid of me, I need to ask you something. Sunday

the seventeenth is my mom’s fiftieth birthday. She’s having a big

party at the house—kind of like a family reunion. Would you

come with me and Celeste?”

Celeste. Bruises. The sincerity in David’s eyes. Why did there

always have to be something about Celeste hanging over me?

I tried to smile. “I’d love to.”

304

Chapter 32

STUDENTS ENTERING THE CHAPEL later that afternoon

filled the cavernous space with shouts and laughter, waved at

each other, and rushed to get seats near friends. More than one

person had blue face-paint on; Barcroft apparel was ubiquitous.

Stupidly, I’d worn a red sweater. After my talk with David, the last

thing on my mind was Barcroft-Edgerton weekend. Now I looked

like a Red Sox fan in a room full of Yankees.

Instead of letting my eyes stray in the direction of the left-

side balcony, where I used to sit with Viv and Abby, I watched the

hundreds of bodies milling around the oak pews on the main

level. Too short, too pale, too heavy—no one matched my David

blueprint. He’d had an appointment with his advisor right before

this. Maybe she’d kept him late.

I randomly followed a group down the center aisle, now

searching the pews for anyone to sit with. I was about to give up

and sit alone when I saw a familiar green beret.

“Hey,” I said. “Are you saving that seat?”

Celeste followed my eyes to the spot next to her. “Nope.”

I stepped over her crutches and sat on the hard, wooden

bench. Almost none of Celeste’s skin was showing. She had on a

velvet blazer, a high-necked, Victorian-style blouse, and men’s

305

khakis, slit up the leg to accommodate her cast—an interesting

change from her usual style.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I craned my head around and saw peer-counselor Toby’s

dark hair and silver glasses. “Hey, Toby.”

“We miss you,” he said.

“Of course you do.” I smiled. “Can’t say it’s mutual. I’d

forgotten how nice it is to have free time.”

He laughed thinly. We both knew I was lying.

I turned back around, bumping my elbow lightly against the

pew, reigniting the pain. I rubbed it as I studied the assembly