Page 40 of And They Were Roommates

He thinks the notion of my letters being sent is a bit too funny.

I try my best to glower but fail. Despite Jasper’s billions of flaws, that bubbly laugh of his is, unfortunately, not one of them. “Due date?”

“One week from today.”

Nineteen love letters in seven days. The next public grade rank announcement is one day before. In addition, I’ll need to ace my chemistry and world history unit exams. I’msupposedto handle all of this. That’s my job.

But what if I can’t?

“That’s seven days away,” I say, hoping he’ll budge.

Jasper hums. “You want less time? Apologies, I didn’t want to expect too much from you.”

My desire for more time poofs into smoke.

I force a smile. “One week works… Tutor Jasper.”

Chapter 15IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25

One week did not work.

That’s all I can think as I meet Luis at the gift shop after his shift, wait for him to break free of his sandwich-board-heart costume, and grab lunch with him in Dix for the first time.

In thirty minutes, at noon sharp, the public grade ranks update. I studied every free second between STRIP Time and my first few cardio training sessions with Xavier. Even if Jasper turned in his chemistry and world history exams twenty minutes before I did, none of the answers stumped me.

But studying also came with a price tag: zero time to write love letters from my one-on-one notes. All nineteen are due in twenty-four hours.

“You good?” Luis asks loudly through a mouthful of pad thai, competing with the lunch rush voices bouncing around Dix’s cathedral-like high ceiling. He was in the middle of describing the time he snuck his cat into his room here but chickened out, especially since his roommate, Bingo A. Dixon, is allergic. I think.

I rub my thighs that are still catastrophically sore after the laps Xavier made me do around Pragma Recreational Center’s field a few days ago. Which may have ended in me collapsing on the grass and Xavier promptly deciding we would wait until I healed to start our first weight training session.No, I am not good.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say anyway, picking at my salad barconcoction, the only food I can stomach lately. The table Luis chose is two rows from the center, lined with teardrop chandeliers. From what I can tell as I sit down in Dix for the first time instead of awkwardly loitering around the perimeter, it’s a neutral zone of popularity. The back, toward the check-in clerks, is for the less so. The front, where a maroon curtain frames headshots of seemingly influential Valentine men of the past, is apparently for foots like Cody, who laughs at a table swarmed by others in Valentine gift shop sweatshirts. Someone as outgoing as Luis probably belongs over there, but generously met me in the middle.

I wonder where Jasper sits.

Even though Dix’s indoor tables are smaller than the outdoor picnic-style ones, allowing Luis a closer view of me minus the bouquet centerpiece separating us, I haven’t shaken my hair over my face or kept my hands off the table runner. I trust Luis a little lately. Considering his lack of seriousness toward life that contradicts Jasper’s approach, maybe he could help with my letters in a way that won’t make me die. “Question.”

“Bring it.”

“If you got a love letter from someone, what would you want it to say?”

“I’ve never thought that far.” Luis tugs on a curl, though, like he definitely has.

“Really? About getting a letter?”

“Getting confessed to at all. In this place, it feels impossible to date other guys, let alone if I could pull any. A love letter is, like, my step ten while it’s everyone else’s step one. Actually, no—first step is making sure Valentine doesn’t smite me. It’s like we’re being watched at all times. Like.” He points his chopsticks at the front of the hall. “Why’s bro here?”

I follow his chopsticks toward the framed old men again, where at the center is a six-by-six painting of Saint Valentine, draped in gowns.

“Heiseverywhere,” I mutter at my salad.

“My guess is, on paper, they wouldn’t kick me out, you know? But there’re other ways of phasing someone out. Suddenly, me sharing a room with another guy is a prob. Living inanyres hall is a prob. PE is a prob. Principal Grimes calls me into her office to explain that there may be schools that suit me better, and I’m done.” Luis tosses a hand. “At least, my theory.”

“I get you.” My grip on my plastic fork tightens so much that it bends. I loosen my fingers.

Luis eyes my permanently screwed-up fork. “Thought you might.”

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