14

-Malcolm-

"UNFORTUNATELY, WEcan't offer you a scholarship at this time," the finance officer says, with a pained, pitying expression that makes my skin crawl. I dig my fingers into my thighs and nod.

It's exactly what I feared; my father has retracted my funding, effective immediately. I won't be able to attend Langley going forward, unless I come up with another way of paying.

"Here are the information sheets about the different financing options." He slides the pamphlets across the table, and I don't even bother looking at them. "There are several options you can look at, some schemes for the less financially stable students. Check to see if you may be eligible for any."

My eyes are fixed on a spot on the wall above the officer's head, and I can feel a cold sweat all over my body.

I'm not going to be able to finance myself, and I won't take any of North's money. I know he'd offer, even though his family can't afford it. I could try to apply for a loan, but it'll take time to go through the process, and what's the fucking point? There's only one way this is going. Sooner or later, my father always wins. And the truth is, I'm too much of a chickenshit coward to do anything about it.

The officer nudges the pamphlets closer to me, and I pick them up anyway—if it'll make him stop talking so I can get the fuck out of here.

He seems to be waiting for some kind of input from me, but I've barely spoken since I walked in. I don't think I can. The sinking dread that engulfed me when I saw my father in the session room has spread through my body like a virus, and in my mind I'm already back there—it's only a matter of time now. I feel like I'm going to slowly calcify, my heart will stop beating, my lungs will stiffen.

". . . and as I said before, this is an unpleasant but necessary conversation." The officer is still talking, trying to fill the yawning silence between us.

I can't deal with his wheedling pity. I need to get out of here. I'm going to peel my skin off if I have to sit here a moment longer.

"We done?" I bark, cutting off his rambling.

He sits up looking startled. "Uh. Oh. Yes, I suppose so, if you have all the information you—"

I don't wait for him to finish. I push the chair back and the legs screech painfully on the tiled floor. The officer rises from his seat, too, and starts to say something, but I'm out of the room and slamming the door behind me before he can get the words out.

I need to get some air into my too-tight lungs. I need to see North. He'll know what to say to calm me down. Even if it'll do no good in the end, I just need to breathe for a moment.

But when I stumble back out into the hallway, it's empty. North isn't here.

I check my phone.

Nothing.

His absence makes my lungs squeeze even tighter, and I screw my eyes shut and shove the phone back in my pocket, trying to fight down the new surge of unprecedented panic. Just because he's not waiting outside the room for me like a well-trained dog and hasn't texted me to let me know exactly where he is, doesn't mean anything. He hasn't decided to leave me. He isn't gone. I try to think clearly, but my head feels muddled. He doesn't have any classes this morning, so he can't be there. And . . .

We didn't eat anything before we left the house, and he's always hungry, so he's probably in his dorm, the cafeteria, or at the food court getting something.

Ok, that makes sense.

I get my phone out again, drawing a slow breath through my teeth to cool myself down, and shoot him a text telling him I'm done. I've made it all the way to the cafeteria before I check my phone again just to make sure I haven't missed his text or call.

Still nothing.

What if this is all too much for him—the drama with my father, the threats, me losing my shit—and he's decided I'm not worth the effort after all? My stomach turns over.

No, it isn't that. He loves me. He told me so. I'm just spiraling because of all this shit going on. He loves me and he wouldn't leave me. That's how love works, right? You wouldn't say shit like that to someone if you don't mean it, right?

There's no sign of him in the cafeteria, so I drive over to his dorm. It makes sense that he'd go there. Even though we've agreed for him to move in with me, most of his stuff is still in his room. Maybe he just wanted some time to himself to process things.

But when I get to his dorm the room is empty, and there's no sign of him in the kitchen or lounge area.

I check my phone again. He hasn't returned any of my texts or calls. It goes off in my hand and I jump so much I almost drop it in my haste to answer. But the number flashing across the screen isn't North's, it's Randy's. Apparently I have his number, although I don't remember ever saving it. I debate letting it ring out, but maybe North's phone died and he's borrowing someone else's.

"Randy?" I ask.

"Hey, dude, are you ok?" he says. His voice is tight with concern.

"What? I'm—" For a moment I think he's calling me because he knows that I'm freaking out. But I haven't seen him since yesterday. "Yeah, why? Why are you calling me?"

"Where are you, dude? North just got arrested."

There's a beat of silence. "What?"

"He just attacked some dude in the food court, man. I have no idea why, but he went fucking nuts. The cops dragged him away."

I choke. "He . . . what?!"

"Dude, it was in front of everyone. He pulverized the guy. And that dude from North's dorm, Paul, called the cops on his ass."

My head is spinning. There's too much information to take in. "Paul?"

"It was some dude in a suit. I thought he was gonna kill him, but I managed to get him off. The cops dragged him away, and I don't know what the fuck to do, man. You weren't there and you guys are always together, so I didn't know if something had happened with you guys or . . . What the fuck man?"

My heart stops beating. A man in a suit. I know exactly who that is. The dread that's been suffocating me closes in even more. North got into a fight with my father, and now he's been arrested.

At that moment, I see Paul walking toward me, looking like he doesn't have a care in the world, with his hands full of paper binders. I hang up the phone, cutting Randy off mid-sentence. Paul spots me and gives me a small, suppressed smile, like he knows a joke I'm not in on. Only I'm in on it.

"You looking for North?" he says.

I slap the binders out of his hands and they scatter on the floor, shedding sheaths of paper.

"Hey—" he starts.

I grab him by the collar and shove his back against the wall, and he drops the self-satisfied smirk real fucking quick.

"You called the fucking cops?"

Paul pushes against me, but I twist my fist into his collar even harder. "He was beating up some random guy. I was just doing what any good citizen would have done."

"That's not why you did it."

Paul's face twists. "Yeah, well. Karma's a bitch. Fuck North, and fuck you."

I snarl and shove him back into the wall. I want to bury my fist in his face, but I let go of him and he stumbles away.

I turn and run.