4. Mina

I'm standing up at the board in physics, taking my turn to complete an equation, when I notice Caplan in the hallway, through the clear window of the classroom door. His face is all flushed, and he's hopping around like he needs to pee. He beckons at me to come. I turn back to the board. After a minute, I look back, and he's making a please prayer with his hands.

"Mina?" Ms. Turner asks, "all set?"

"Sorry, almost."

The classroom door opens, and Caplan sticks his head in. "Hi, Ms. T. Sorry to bother you—"

She looks up from the quizzes she's grading. "Caplan, what can I do for you?"

I have no idea how the AP Physics teacher knows Caplan's name or when they would have met.

Caplan gives her a dazzling sheepish smile. "They need Mina in the office for a minute."

"Oh," she says, going back to her quizzes. "All right, just let her finish."

I shake my head at Caplan, and he smirks. I finish the equation and turn to stand next to it, hands folded.

Ms. Turner looks up. "That's correct. You may go," she says, and then she calls on the next student.

As she looks away again, Caplan swings my bag off my chair and takes it with us.

"So I'm not coming back?" I ask him once we're in the hallway.

"It depends what it says."

"What what says?"

His showman energy's all gone. He looks like he's going to throw up.

"Caplan, what's going on?"

He just shakes his head and tries to drag me with him into the boys' bathroom.

I brace myself against the doorframe. "Nope."

"Come on, it's empty."

"Absolutely not."

"Mina, please—"

"Tell me what's going on."

He shoves his phone into my face, still trying to pull me into the bathroom. There's a notification—an email from the University of Michigan. He's been on the wait list for almost two months. I stop gripping the doorframe, and we both stumble into the bathroom. Caplan throws himself into a stall and sits down on the ground with his back against the door.

"Are you throwing up?" I ask.

"Can you just open it?"

"I can't open it. You need to do that."

"Mina. Please. Open it."

"Look, it's gonna be okay—"

"I will do anything for you to just open the fucking email."

"Okay, okay," I say.

His password is his mom's birthday, 0223.

"It says there's been an update on your portal."

He groans and bangs the back of his head into the door.

"You want me to check it?"

"Yeah."

"What's your log-in?"

"My school email," he says, "and password Malfoyboy17. Capital M."

I swallow my laugh, hold it for later. "Hey, Caplan."

"Yeah."

"You're my best friend."

"You're my best friend, too, Meen. Are you saying that because I didn't get in?"

"No, give me a second."

I reload the page. The whole truth of the moment swoops down on me and knocks all my organs around as the wheel at the top of the page spins. I have half a breath to hope, to pray, which I've never really done, that he will get in, that he will win, that he will always get in and win for the rest of his life. Then Hollis texts him—

You left the condom in my car

It was stuck to Kelly's lacrosse stick

We're going to jail for that

The Michigan page updates.

"Caplan, come out here."

"Are you crying?"

"Come here."

"Fuck," he says, "motherfuck shit goddamn." He bangs the door open, one arm crooked over his face, and holds out his hand for his phone. He looks at it for a second. Then he looks up at me, struck dumb.

I'm smiling so hard it hurts, and I'm definitely also crying.

"I got in?"

"You got in."

He whoops. He howls at the ceiling and throws his fists into the air like he does when someone on their team scores in soccer, and then he's crushing me to him, picking me up, swinging me around.

"Put me down," I say, laughing, "and call your mom."

"My mom!" he shouts. "Oh my god, I gotta call my mom."

He picks up my bag and turns to leave and then presses it into my hands.

"Sorry, this is yours, sorry, what the fuck?" He's running his hands through his hair and shaking his head and smiling like the sun. "I can't believe this," he says.

"Well, I can."

"Mina… it's Michigan."

"Yeah. But it's also you, Caplan."

He hugs me one more time, fast and tight, and then he's gone, practically skipping.

I stand in the hallway for a bit with my arms wrapped around myself. I wonder how it would feel to know so completely what you wanted to do and where you were supposed to be. Of course Caplan knows. He thinks of himself as a simple person, he's said so before, but really he's just pure. There is nothing dark in Caplan. Nothing twisted or buried away. I shake myself. Sometimes being around him for short periods of time makes me feel like this after, almost how I'd imagine a hangover would feel. Like I'm in withdrawal. I run blue. It's a real letdown sometimes to return to myself, once he's gone from me. If I run blue, then Caplan runs gold.

I lean against the wall for a bit longer, being dramatic. Then I take my time wandering back to physics.