The Believing Game (20 page)

He didn't look weak or sick. I'd begun to think of him as an infection, though, spreading to us all.

The next morning, sometime between first and third period, Wes moved out of the room he shared with Addison. I was there with Addison when he walked in and found half the room emptied.

“What the hell?” he asked.

As soon as he said it, I saw it. The blanket on the bed had been drawn up straight for once. Wes's books and piles of papers had been cleared from his desk. His bucket of shower supplies. His towel. His robe. Even the wardrobe and chest of drawers were empty when we checked.

“Maybe he went home?” I suggested. Addison checked through his own wardrobe, yanked open the drawers on his side of the room. “He didn't steal anything?” He still didn't answer me. He squatted down to check under Wes's bed. No duffel bag. No suitcase.

“He didn't say anything to you?” I asked, still thinking we'd find a reasonable explanation. School visit. Family emergency. Something.

“No, what did he say to you?” Addison turned to me and I saw his temper ramping up. “Yesterday. When you couldn't get out of the van fast enough, just to spend time talking to Wes in the parking lot?” The dread in my stomach was starting to feel familiar.

“Nothing.” I thought to myself,
Wes, you prick. You could have given me a heads-up.
I stuck to our story. “We talked about you, how worried we were. Are. I think that last conversation freaked him out a little.” Oh Christ. As soon as I said it, I recognized the complete shit storm I'd wandered into.

“What last conversation?”

“Joshua. Predicting one of us would betray everyone. Wes got a little paranoid about it.” Once I'd started, I couldn't stop myself. “Joshua attacked him all weekend. You didn't notice that?”

“It would be terrific if we could deal with one conflict without you blaming Joshua for it. Seriously, just try to take some kind of ownership.”

“I'm not owning the fact that your roommate moved out. You don't even know that. Maybe something happened this weekend back home and when he got back, he heard from his family.”

“Then why wouldn't he tell me last night? He slept in his bed last night. We talked after lights-out. He didn't say anything about contact from home.”

“Addison, we're late for class —”

“I don't care if we show up late for class. I don't care if I go to class. They should have sat us down for some kind of conflict-resolution crap. We should have had to discuss it.” But talking it through wasn't calming Addison down. His voice kept catching. He looked like he wanted to break something. Or break down.

He finally looked up. “I know he was upset about Joshua.” He paused miserably. “Joshua took a lot of cheap shots at him, I get that.” He raised his eyes to mine. “That's just what he does — it's his way of getting to know people.” Addison
gazed around the room. His eyes watered. “Last night, Wes asked me how much I knew about Joshua and implied he was taking advantage of me. Of all of us.”

I couldn't believe it. Wes really just said it outright. I tried to make sure my voice didn't lean one way or the other. “What do you think about that?”

“Well, obviously I think it's bullshit. You and I have been through this too. I get it, especially from the point of view of …” Addison searched for words and apparently decided to go with the very grandfatherly “… a young lady.” He nodded to me. “I understand bristling at Joshua's more unconventional habits. But to accuse him of taking advantage when he's devoting all this time to teaching us how to better ourselves, how to value ourselves — it's completely unjustified.”

I nodded. I didn't know what else to say.

“Greer, he doesn't even know how much time he has left and he has chosen to spend it with us. That sacrifice stuns me. And if there's anything I can do to make his time more comfortable, I'm going to do it. And I'm not going to apologize for that choice. To anyone.”

“And that's what you told Wes?”

“Basically.” He looked defensive. “So you're going to tell me what? That I asked for this?”

“For what? You don't know what's going on yet. Maybe he just needs some time to sort it out.” But I knew then. I thought of how certain Wes had been the evening before. How resigned he looked when he'd left us on the sidewalk. He'd just cut his losses. It amazed me, briefly, to remember you could do that.

“What if he goes to the dean?” That's what Addison had been worried about. I had felt so awful for Addison — Wes
had rejected him. I'd thought he was hurt and embarrassed. Instead Addison worried more about getting in trouble or exposing Joshua to the dean.

But then he reached for my hand. “I don't want any of us to end up sliding backward because of Wes. We'd be written up. We'd lose privileges. I don't know if they'd let me stay. I can't imagine not waking up every day and seeing you.”

“He wouldn't tell anyone. And really, what would he say? That we watched movies and ate stir-fry? We took a hike and discussed the future.” It sounded better vague. “We could even say that Sophie had begged us to go back to the cabin before her parents threw out all her brother's stuff. Sophie would say that, if we needed her to.”

Addison looked reassured, but then another dark storm crossed his face. “Or Wes could say we stayed in a cabin with little supervision. We slept, coed, in beds.” Addison pulled out his cell phone, flipped through pictures of us lounging on the sofa, laughing.

“That looks like wholesome fun to me.” I pointed at the phone as he tracked through photos. “No drugs, no alcohol.” I saw a shot of the brief poker game. “Okay, there was a little gambling, but nothing major. If he wanted to, he could make trouble, but I doubt it would be permanent trouble. I don't even think he wants to. Wes is just really worried. He's probably just trying to get a reaction from you.”

“He'd listen to you.”

My heart skidded and paused. “What?”

“If you asked him to leave it alone.”

“You don't want me to do that, Addison.”

“Why? Why wouldn't I want you to do that? You'd be asking him to keep his mouth shut for you too. You'd be protecting all of us.”

“For one thing, if he gets offended, he's more likely to go to the dean. You know Wes. He'll feel like we're challenging him or something.”

“So don't offend him. Just ask sweetly.”

“That's what would bother him.”

“Please explain why it would bother him for his roommate's girlfriend, with whom he's fairly friendly, to ask him to refrain from informing the administration of rule infractions. Seriously. Unless he's more than fairly friendly and he'd resent you asking anything on my behalf.”

Not long before, hearing Addison refer to me as his girlfriend would have counted as enough to counteract all the other crap. That charm had worn off a little bit. I found myself lashing out. “Because it wouldn't be sincere. He'd know that and it would piss him off. And you're not his roommate anymore. He knows what that means. This” — I waved around the half-emptied room — “makes it pretty obvious that Wes could care less about any of us.”

Addison looked like he was practicing his newly acquired anger-management skills. “I'm just asking you — I'm respectfully requesting that you at least let him know how disappointed you'd be if he turned us in. Just as a long shot —”

Just so you know where my loyalty lies.
That's how I should have finished up Addison's sentence. Instead, I told him, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I love you. I'm sorry if I made this more complicated than that.” I knew that's what Addison wanted to hear, and sure enough, he rewarded me with one of those hugs that made me feel swallowed up entirely, absolutely safe.

“You make everything more complicated.” He said it into
my hair and sounded exasperated. “Greer, Greer — I need a beer.”

I punched him playfully. “That's not even funny.”

“We just skipped class.”

I looked up at the standard-issue clock on the wall. Addison was right. “What are we going to do?”

“Go right to Dr. Rennie. And just tell him — my roommate moved out, abruptly. You were comforting me.”

“Let's use a different word.”

“You were offering me peer counseling.”

I nodded. “It does sound better.”

He pulled me closer to him. “But you could comfort me first.”

“Not a chance. Let's make sure we're not thrown out before we start having rebellious sex all over the place.”

My parents might have been shocked at the effect that McCracken Hill had on me. Or else my mom would just kind of cluck her tongue and say, “Money well spent.” They'd never been able to scare me into being good at home. I mean, they yelled and grounded and took stuff away. After the shoplifting started, they left me in a couple of mall security offices to try to scare me straight. But it never really stuck. I mean, I knew they'd eventually stop yelling. The mall would close. They'd have to send someone to pick me up. But when they sent me away, that changed everything.

I missed my room. I missed watching TV and being able to work out whenever I wanted. I missed my laptop and my enormous bed and my closet full of clothes that didn't make me look Amish. But most of all, I missed feeling like I had some kind of control. I hadn't worked so hard to behave since I was a little kid. And now no one was here to actually care.

So I worried. About missing class, about being caught in the boys' dorm. I made Addison get a move on and made sure to look like I was concerned about him, in case someone was monitoring the hallway security cameras. It took being sent to a school for screwups for me to realize I didn't want to be a screwup anymore. People monitored you more closely when you tried to prove a point. Navigating the world was easier without a big target on my chest. When we stepped out of the dark corridor, I grabbed Addison's hand. His didn't feel as clammy as mine. I knew that missing class really didn't register with him as worth worrying over. He had other things to preserve — Joshua's access to campus, Joshua's health, Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.

I knew too that I needed to test out Wes's theory that most of McCracken was talk, after the initial shock of being there. That as long as I didn't flaunt my hot boyfriend or resurrect my dormant eating disorder, I could pretty much get away with what I wanted. If Wes was right, it made the prospect of finishing up high school at McCracken a little more alluring. It gave me a little more control over my life.

We waited outside the classroom until everyone filed out. A couple of girls rolled their eyes and whispered. Some gonad named Gary gave Addison a congratulatory punch on the shoulder. Dr. Rennie caught me midcringe when he stepped out into the hallway and waved us into the room. “Was your weekend sojourn not enough of an adventure? Did you need to honeymoon through my class?”

At first, I panicked at his wording, but Dr. Rennie smiled wryly. “I'm so sorry,” Addison started. “Sir, I just stopped by my room to pick up books.”

“And you happened to discover your girlfriend? That is a dilemma.”

“No, sir. I didn't even mean to go in his room.” Addison gave the slightest shake of his head. Apparently I shouldn't have mentioned that part.

Dr. Rennie thumbed through a stack of papers on his desk. “I see. You were just walking by and you fell in.” Sometimes it's hard not to wonder if adults don't just create rules so that they can mock you when you break them.

“No, I —”

“Sir, I freaked out and called Greer over. She'd been waiting for me in the floor lounge.”

“Oh?”

We'd used the key phrase
freaked out
. Perhaps Dr. Rennie could claim he had steered Addison to an emotional breakthrough at the next faculty meeting.

“My roommate moved out.”

“The Wesley boy? He's moved on from us, has he?”

“No, I don't think he has,” Addison answered.

“Oh. I see.” Dr. Rennie held up the daily information bulletin. He traced over a list of names with his finger. “Well, he's on this list. Everett accompanied you on your volunteer expedition. With the Narcotics Anonymous counselor?” He looked from Addison to me. “You all went. Did something occur? A falling-out?”

“No,” Addison said. Dr. Rennie turned to me.

“No, sir,” I answered. “We all got along fine. It just really took Addison by surprise and we talked it through a little. I'm sorry — it's not that we don't value your class.”

“Yes. Yes. You had to handle your feelings.” I couldn't tell if Dr. Rennie was being sarcastic or not. “Well, this is a dilemma. I'm expected to report this to your academic dean.
But I appreciate how you've handled this, coming right to see me. Understand, I'll follow up, so if this is a tale, then you should bribe your roommate to begin packing on the double.” Dr. Rennie chortled and then suddenly grew serious. “But I suspect it's not. You look far too dismayed. I encourage you to reach out to him. Perhaps give him a day or two to cool off if he appears angry for some reason. But otherwise, try to shake it off. The difficult aspect of an environment like this is that you young people, you're all growing very fast. And some of you are growing at different rates. Occasionally friendships can't quite keep up with that. Does that make sense?”

Addison and I both nodded. It made a lot of sense. And it was the most human conversation I'd had with a teacher since I arrived at McCracken Hill. Dr. Rennie actually seemed to care. “Thank you, sir.” Add said it first, so I just nodded.

“Hurry to lunch. I'd rather not see Greer have to explain a missed meal on top of everything else.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. We'll get the notes from a classmate —”

“Don't lie to me. None of you takes notes.” He turned back to his book and motioned for us to move along.