15. Josie

15

Josie

I t's mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, and today is just not my day.

I rush to grab the door before it closes, but the move tips me forward a little too far, causing my bag to fall from my shoulders. Just when I'm sure that my laptop and notebooks and pens and highlighters are about to go soaring through the air only to be scattered onto the floor of the Student Union, a strong hand reaches out and saves the day.

"This yours, Josie?"

I look up into the kind eyes of my friend Pete Santos and smile. "You are a lifesaver. Thank you," I say, taking the bag from his hands and slipping it back onto my shoulder.

He holds the door open and gestures for me to walk through. Pete and I might appear to be unlikely friends, and not just because he's so close with Van. I'm a homebody, and Pete's as much of a partygoer as Van. He's everybody's favorite guy, and it's easy to see why. Whether he's on the ice or bare-chested on a pool table in frat house basement, or—like right now—at a meeting of the Legacy Scholars, Pete just fits in.

One unspoken and long-standing rule of our friendship is that we never talk about Van. Since Pete is the other full-ride recipient in our year, we end up going to a lot of the same functions. If Van had been between us this whole time, those bland chicken dinners would have been even more awkward.

We stop at the registration table and when Pete offers to sign my name because my hands are full, he gets a stern look from Kendra, our secretary.

"You got me," he says, grinning. "If you'd have let me sign this, I'd be one step closer to stealing Josie's identity. I mean, we get mistaken for twins all the time, right?"

I laugh as he squares up next to me. Pete's more than a foot taller than I am, and though we both have brown hair, the similarities start and end there. He's broad and barrel-chested, whereas I'm petite and pear-shaped. My skin is fair and his is bronzed. My eyes are brown and his are deep blue. He looks like a woodsman who's been hibernating for the winter, and I look like, well…a librarian.

Kendra doesn't crack a smile. She just takes the pen from his hand and slips it into mine. Pete scoops up one of my bags so I don't have to lay it on the floor while I sign my life away. And really, I'm only signing away the next hour of my life, so it's not so bad.

We find seats at one of the small tables near the back and Pete deposits my bag onto an empty chair. I place my messenger bag on top of that and scan the room to see where the shortest food line is.

"Are they making you take the books home these days, Josie?"

I laugh. "Iris has read every book on hairless cats that our local library has, so I searched the stacks today and found a few we haven't read yet. And the twins are devouring this new nonfiction series on cold cases, so I borrowed a few of those, too."

"They're lucky to have you, Josie."

I take the compliment, even though we both know that delivering library books isn't above and beyond the call of duty. Pete and I will never be mistaken for twins, and we don't travel in the same social circles, but one thing we have in common is our love for our families.

Pete's family has been through a lot these past few years, and I know the sole reason he's at Bainbridge is to be close by if they need him. I understand that all too well.

We're filling our plates at the buffet table when Pete nudges me. "I'm betting it lasts one hour and forty-seven minutes. You?"

"Oof. I hope not…Hmmm, I am being a fool if I guess 53 minutes?"

"No one in their right mind would call you a fool, Josie. But a wishful thinker? Definitely."

We take our seats just in time for Kyle to call the meeting to order.

"How's this douche still the president? Didn't he graduate?" Pete whispers.

I shrug in response. "He's in the MBA program. I guess no one wanted the position?"

We all eat while Kyle drones on about the events that are planned for the year. Everyone in here has received an academic scholarship of some kind, and we're all required to attend a certain number of meetings and dinners, many of which are hosted by donors and supportive alumni. I can't complain, because my scholarship grants me full tuition, plus room and board. It makes life a lot easier for Levi and me, even if it means sitting through meetings with Creepy Kyle.

I'm eating the last of my carrot cake when Kyle calls for us to break out into committees. I clear my plate and gather my stuff to move to the center table. I'm hoping Pete will tag along, but he heads for the door.

"Is your committee meeting in the parking lot?" I tease.

"Nah, more like the athletic center. I've got practice," he says, not sounding sad at all about having to leave early. "Have a good week, Josie."

"You too, Pete," I say, before sliding into my new spot. Unfortunately, Kyle slips into the seat next to mine and launches into a dissertation about the trivia night we're hosting in a few weeks. I've already done the heavy lifting of securing a venue, ordering food, and publicizing the event. Kyle has the only task left and he's been talking about it for the past ten minutes. Kendra stops by our table and Kyle takes the opportunity to start from the top and bore her with every minute detail of a gathering he didn't even plan.

I take the opportunity to check my phone and see how the kids are doing. Milo left school early with a tummy ache and Tillie texted an hour ago to tell me she threw up three times. Ugh. I'm hoping it's something the twins have passed to each other and not to the rest of us, but when I open my text thread, I see the plague is spreading.

Levi : I'm the last man standing, Josie. Picked up Zane from practice and he damn near hurled in my car. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for making it back in time for him to use an actual toilet. Brother of the Year, right here. But then, about five seconds after Mrs. Fulton (May God bless her doll-collecting soul) left, Iris lost her lunch all over my shoes. Wish me luck.

Josie : Hoping it's just a 24 hour thing! Fingers crossed. And if it gets you, I'll be home tomorrow night to take over.

I look up from my phone, but Kyle's still talking at Kendra and she's soaking up every narcissistic word. Breaking out a book might be too obvious, so I do what all the kids do: I scroll mindlessly through my phone to pass the time.

Claire Fowler's column, "Am I the Dumbass" came out in The Howler today and I look forward to reading it each week. She gives the best advice and she's not afraid to tell it like it is. I'm tempted to walk across the room to where she's standing and tell her that her advice to the guy who's been crushing on his best friend's ex was really good, but I'm afraid if I start moving, I'll attract Kyle's attention, and that's never on my to-do list.

I've played every word game I can find, so I navigate over to the WolfWeb, which is Bainbridge's own social media platform. There's a picture of the swim team at their latest meet, and a shot of student volunteers picking up trash across campus. It's all the usual stuff, but it beats listening to Kyle hear himself talk.

I stop scrolling when I see a picture of Mel and Will. She's got a figure-hugging black dress on and he's wearing a tux. They look good together. She told me about the fundraising dinner, but I haven't seen pictures yet. I flip through more pictures and spot Santos all dressed up. There's a picture of Booker and Ian looking as handsome as ever, and I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face. I flick my thumb against the screen one more time, and my smile fades. Van's standing in between two tall, leggy blondes. They look like models, all three of them. His hair falls in waves over his shoulder, and his dimple is on display. His charm radiates off the screen. The girls' eyes are trained on him. But he's looking straight ahead.

I turn off my phone and make a few notes about what Kyle is mansplaining. It's a safe bet that I'll end up doing whatever has him so stressed, and I can guarantee it won't take me more than five minutes to get it done.

Maybe I should stroll through the room and see what the other committees have left to do. I could volunteer myself for all the odd, random jobs.

My schedule won't allow for it, but maybe if I keep myself that busy, I won't have time to think about how much I'm beginning to look forward to my tutoring sessions with Van. I won't dwell on how much our conversation at Wolfie's felt almost like a date, and how much I really didn't mind that. I won't fixate on Van's picture or the gorgeous girls who flank him. Whom he dates—or even stands next to—is none of my business.

No matter how much I wish it still was.