Page 59 of Devil in Disguise
“I don’t know, exactly,” Dyma said, “because the reasons people love each other are weird. But I think a lot of it is because she’s nice, the same way his mom was nice. Isn’t that the dumbest reason you’ve ever heard? Because she’s sweet and loving, and when anybody’s in trouble, the first thing she thinks is, ‘How can I help?’ I’m not saying I’m her, because I’m sure as heck not. If I were—well, I don’t know, honestly. She’d probably shut you down, but she’d do it in some really kind way I can’t even think of. Whereas I’m just going to say no, thanks, to your mani/pedi party. I’m busy.”
She’d said “fuck” again. She hadn’t been one bit above it all. She was stuck with Cinderella’s stepsisters, and she’d probably just made that even more awkward.
But it still felt good.
26
Power Dynamic
Wednesday afternoon,and she’d just walked out of class after handing in the paper for her second midterm. Still not great—it turned out that you couldn’t pull out an Engineering Statics test on your native wits, or even on a day and a half’s worth of buckling down—but not as disastrous as the Thermodynamics one. Tomorrow was Electromagnetism, but she’d already started studying, and she had another whole day. She texted Owen,2 down 1 to go. Maybe can do this with major push. Wish me luck.She could pull up one C with her lab grade plus the final. Or maybe a C-minus. Or … whatever. Pulling up her grade that far in three classes would be a whole lot more of a challenge, and she needed at least one A here.
And, yes, possibly she shouldn’t have taken exactly those three classes to start out. Hubris, that was the word, thinking it would be no problem. Another AP English takeaway—she knew what to call her dangerous and possibly arrogant assumptions.
When her friends had talked about pressure in high school, she had to face it, she’d always felt a little smug. She should apologize, although—ugh. How wouldthatsound? “Sorry. I thought you guys were just stupid compared to me!” She’d apologize in her mind, she guessed. Right now, she headed up the stairs to her floor, taking them two at a time—she might not have set any scholastic records this year, but her fitness was going great—took a moment to erase her cell number from the whiteboard outside her room for about the sixth time—she’d been blocking alotof contacts, given the combination of the whiteboard campaign and social media—and instead of going in, knocked on the next door.
Fletcher opened it.
“Hey,” she said, shifting the pack on her back. “I wondered if you guys wanted to go to the Rec Center before dinner. I just finished a midterm, and it didn’t suck quite as much as the last one, but I still have to study like crazy tonight, so I figured—fitness break?”
It all came out in a rush, and Fletcher was still just standing there. She asked, “Is Avery here?”
“No,” came a voice from behind her. “Out here.”
Yep, there was Avery behind her, holding an extra-large, high-tech insulated cup that no doubt held one of the concoctions he always seemed to be ordering or drinking or just finishing up. Generally called something like Golden Dreams Chai Tea Latte, which apparently involved ingredients tenderly gathered and hand-prepared by specially trained artisans in the Peruvian Andes and the jungles of Myanmar, judging by the prices. Avery could spend more on a day’s worth of those drinks than she spent on food and drink combined.
She said, “Hey,” and tried a smile. He smiled back a little, which was better than Fletcher, and she said, “Oh,” stepped back, and swept out an arm. “Enter. You guys going to invite me in, or am I destined for another humiliating public display?” When in doubt, go with your strengths, and her strength was brazening it out. Or possibly being a smartass.
Fletcher held the door open farther and said, “Come in.” Which was something, at least.
Once she was inside, the two guys sat on their non-lofted beds and looked at her. Avery at least said, “Have a seat. Well, have a beanbag,” so she did. It was leather, which was nice, but she doubted anybody had ever made a power presentation from a beanbag.
No way to begin but to start. “So I figured we’d have this conversation casually, on the climbing wall or whatever, but I guess we’re having it here. Right. I have a boyfriend.”
“Yes,” Fletcher said. “We got that.”
“You know,” she told him, “your attitude’s starting to piss me off. Sure, I should’ve said, but were you guys only hanging out with me in order to get in my pants, or does it just feel that way?”
“Nice,” Fletcher said. “Guess you’re all done apologizing, then.”
“She has a point,” Avery said.
“See?” Dyma said. “I have a point. OK, obviously you’re right that I should have told you about Owen.Hethinks I should have told you, no worries. Part of the reason I didn’t was that it’s hard to explain Owen. He’s kind of … larger than life, and being an NFL girlfriend is—” She shuddered. “Which I know, because my mom is one, because my life is seriously weird right now, all right? Dude, I’m afreshman.A freshman from a hick town and an unbelievably hick life. All of this …” She waved a hand. “Thisstuff,it only just happened, OK? And it came with awholelot of change. Right now, I’m just trying to bea freshman and not totally blow the whole college deal. I’m not doing too great so far, as you’ve noticed, but I plan to do better.”
“You didn’t have to explain him,” Fletcher said, completely ignoring her entire well-reasoned explanation. “We didn’t need a biographical sketch. ‘My boyfriend and I are doing the long-distance thing.’ See how easy that is?”
Somehow, she’d crossed her arms. Even in the beanbag. “So you’re telling me you’d still have been my friend? Invited me to play broom hockey and Ultimate Frisbee and go to the gym with you and hang out and play video games? This random clueless freshman with a boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Fletcher said. “Well, probably.”
“I would have,” Avery said.
“Because you’re hung up on her, bro,” Fletcher said. “Hello? Wake up. Did youseethat guy? Did you hear her just now?”
Avery’s cheekbones darkened in that way they did, and Dyma was getting the red mist again. “That’s a really crappy thing to say,” she told Fletcher. “What kind of a friend are you?” As an apologizer, she was failing, but so what? She’d already failed at practically everything else.
Avery said, “At least I’m honest about it.”
“What, like I’m not?” Fletcher said. “Dude. If I ever had a thing for her, I’m over it.”
