Page 110 of And They Were Roommates

My heart sinks as I pull away, knowing what I have to say next. That I’m leaving her behind alongside STRIP. “I ranked sixth. Not fifth.”

Delilah’s brow line soars. “What?”

“But it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. That’s basically the top fucking five. Can’t they secretly shove some extra credit in your face?”

That fact that Delilah is willing to hear out yet another problem of mine pulls a bit of warmth to my chest, even when the conversation is as miserable as this one. “I doubt it, but—”

Jasper interrupts us with an awkward wave. That’s when I notice London and another girl from the sister academy standing beside Delilah. His eyes are only on the girls. “Apologies for the interruption, ladies, but may we ask for one last favor?”

Delilah scowls, shooting me a firm look that’s givingwe’ll continue this conversation when we’re alone. “The fuck is this guy?”

He extends a hand for a shake before I can answer. “Jasper Grimes, miss.”

She glances at me. Jasper. Me again. “Is this—?”

“Principal Grimes’s nephew,” I cut in. “You must’ve heard of him.”

Delilah makes a face like she tastes Clorox. Even if I never told her more than Jasper’s first name back at camp, with him standing beside me now, there’s no way she isn’t putting two and two together that the principal’s nephew has been the culprit all along.

“Where are the rest of the top five?” Jasper asks. “Sophia? Mary?”

London, the antithesis of Delilah tonight in her hot-pink minidress, frowns at the question. “They’re too scared to help us anymore.”

Silence falls among the circle.

I turn to Delilah. “You’re okay with helping us again?”

Delilah clicks her tongue. “I finish what I start. And Valentine’s rules are pissing me off.”

So, Jasper stands before us all and addresses everyone but me. My guilt distracts me from paying attention. Knowing Jasper, he’d treat me like Foot Cody if he hated me. He would have no problem with looking directly at me, insulting me with the most pretentious vocabulary, and smiling in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. What else would cause this?

My chest aches as I consider the only other possibility. Can he not bear to look at me because it hurts too much?

I know he likes me. He told me. But this much?

“The mixer is three hours,” Jasper is in the middle of explaining once I lock back in. “A hundred letters need to be delivered—preferably in the first two hours. Blaze will pass them out since he’s the quickest and smallest.” His face hardens. “Remember, not a single instructor can spot these letters. They’re the most intelligent educators in the nation. They’ll surely connect them to Delilah’s bag of letters if so.”

“Blaze will need to deliver fifty per hour, then,” Robby says. “Nearly one per minute.”

“Can’t Blaze sit his ass down somewhere and have people come up?” Xavier asks.

“That could pool a crowd, Xav,” Robby says.

“How is that better than Blaze running around like a headless chicken? If an instructor spots one letter, we’re done.”

“I’ve prepared for that,” Jasper says, rummaging through his bag more. He pulls out a white sheet and tosses it over Blaze’s head. From a hole ripped on the side, Blaze’s hand juts out and waves. Two more frayed holes barely reveal his eyes.

Everyone stares at Blaze the Ghost.

Next, Jasper pulls out a pumpkin trick-or-treat bucket and slides the handle up Blaze’s arm. “We have twenty minutes until this mixer starts. We’re going to spend that time rolling the letters into candy foil I found in my aunt’s kitchen and writing every recipient’s name on them. Then we’ll put them in this bucket.”

“Youdoknow that we can see this ghost, right?” Xavier asks.

“That’s fine. Because Delilah, our lovely student council member, asked Blaze to pass out candy around the ballroom.”

“I did?” Delilah asks.

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