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Chapter no 15

I Hope This Doesn't Find You

โ€ŒThe next day, weโ€™re called into the principalโ€™s office again.โ€Œ

Itโ€™s all the same. The same dull carpet, the same two seats pulled up in front of the desk, the same suffocating air. The same nerves coiled in the pit of my stomach. The only difference is the way Juliusโ€™s eyes catch on mine when I sit down next to him.

โ€œWell, hello, captains,โ€ Principal Miller greets us. โ€œHi,โ€ I say cautiously.

โ€œYouโ€™re looking great today, Principal Miller,โ€ Julius says. Iโ€™m almost impressed by his ability to dive straight into such shameless flattery at any given moment. Itโ€™s way too early in the morning for this. โ€œIs that a new

tie?โ€

The principal glances down at his plain black tie, which looks identical to every single tie Iโ€™ve ever seen him wear. I wait for him to scold Julius, but his poker face breaks into a pleased smile. โ€œWhy, yes, it is. Thank you for noticing.โ€

Youโ€™re kidding me.

โ€œWhat did you want to talk to us about, Principal Miller?โ€ Julius asks.

The principal refocuses. โ€œAh, right. I know itโ€™s been a while since we had our last conversation about your little . . .ย incident.โ€ His mouth puckers with distaste, as if the incident in question involved us publicly vandalizing his office or undressing the school mascot. โ€œI just wanted to check in with you two. How are we feeling? Have you been enjoying your time with each other?โ€

โ€œYes, Iโ€™ve been having aย wonderfulย time,โ€ Julius says.

When I turn to him in surprise, he tilts his head almost imperceptibly toward the principal, his eyes narrowing.

โ€œSimply incredible,โ€ I agree, catching on. If we can just convince Principal Miller his plan worked, we might be able to finally leave the emails behind us and go our separate ways. โ€œWeโ€™reย soย close now. Weโ€™re basically best friends.โ€

โ€œThe best of friends.โ€ Julius nods fast. โ€œWe hang out even when weโ€™re not at school. Sheโ€™s the first person I think of when something goes well and when something goes wrong. We even finish each otherโ€™sโ€”โ€

โ€œMath questions,โ€ I say. โ€œHeโ€™s been a great help in class.โ€ โ€œSheโ€™s right. I help her all the time.โ€

I let out a high-pitched laugh. โ€œAlthough,ย of course, I help him plenty as well, seeing as Iโ€™m much more familiar with the syllabus than he isโ€”โ€

โ€œBut only because Iโ€™m so busy doing the advanced questions.โ€ Juliusโ€™s grin is so wide it looks like it hurts. Thereโ€™s a visible muscle twitching in his jaw. โ€œAnd because I donโ€™t find memorizing the syllabus to be an effective study method, although I concede that it may be beneficial for those with a rudimentary understanding of the contentโ€”โ€

โ€œWhich is exactly the kind of thinking that could leadย someย people,โ€ I say in a bright voice, squeezing my fingers together under the desk, โ€œto lose three marks on an important test and then complain that the topic wasnโ€™t covered, when it was actually stated in black and white.โ€

Principal Millerโ€™s brows furrow.

โ€œAll of this is to say that Julius isย lovely,โ€ I say quickly.

โ€œAnd Sadie is the light of my life,โ€ Julius says, his lip curling, even though thereโ€™s an odd note to his tone. Something that could be confused for sincerity. โ€œThe sun in my sky, the source of all my joy. Sheโ€™s the reason I wake up every morning excited to go to my classes. Not a day goes by

where Iโ€™m not grateful that she exists, that sheโ€™s there, that I get to talk to her and pass her in the halls and listen to her laugh.โ€

Iโ€™m concerned heโ€™s gone a bit too far with the irony, but Principal Miller looks convinced. No, he even looksย moved.

โ€œThat was beautiful,โ€ the principal says, and I have to remember not to roll my eyes. โ€œTruly. I have to admit, I was somewhat skeptical about how

well this would work out between you two given the rather intense nature of those emails, but . . . well, I always knew I was a miracle worker. I guess I reallyย doย come up with the best solutions.โ€

My mouth falls open of its own accord. I canโ€™t believe this is the conclusion heโ€™s come to.

โ€œI just have one last task for you,โ€ Principal Miller says. โ€œThe senior trip is coming up soon, and after the less-than-positive feedback we received for last yearโ€™s tripโ€”โ€

โ€œYou mean when the teachers took the class to a sewage treatment plant?โ€ I clarify.

โ€œYes.โ€ He rubs the back of his head. โ€œYes. To be clear, that was a case of false advertising and miscommunication, but that is indeed what Iโ€™m referring to.โ€

โ€œGot it.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s why for this year,โ€ he says, โ€œwe want more input from the students. Iโ€™m going to trust you two to provide a few sensible, budget- friendly suggestions for where you could stay. It would be great if you could get this organized as soon as possible and hand me a proposal

tomorrow morning.โ€

โ€œWait.โ€ I exchange a quick look of disbelief with Julius, and for once, the battle lines seem to be drawn before us, instead of between us.

โ€œTomorrowโ€”โ€

โ€œThat is correct.โ€ The principal makes a hand gesture thatโ€™s probably intended to be encouraging, but looks more like heโ€™s threatening to punch us. Iย feelย like Iโ€™ve been punched. โ€œBest of luck, captains.โ€

โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข

โ€œYouโ€™re late,โ€ I inform Julius the second he walks in.

Iโ€™ve booked one of the study rooms in the library for us to use throughout our spare period. The pros: Thereโ€™s an arched, stained glass

window offering a stunning view of the rippling lawns below, and the walls

are perfectly soundproof. Thereโ€™s also a whiteboard for me to stick up photos and details of all the destinations Iโ€™ve gathered.

The cons: Itโ€™s clearly designed to hold only a single person, which

means he has to squeeze his way past the chair to reach the square of empty space available beside me. Which means weโ€™re standing much closer together than Iโ€™d like. Which means I have to take a deep, steadying breath, forcing myself to focus on the board, to keep my eyes off his face.

โ€œI remember when you used to at least pretend to be civil,โ€ Julius

remarks as he lifts the coffee cup in his hand to his lips. โ€œYou would offer me a terribly fake smile first, then come up with a long-winded way to remind me of the time, like:ย Is it just me, or has the school bought new clocks? The minute hand looks really different.ย Now you seem to have no problem criticizing me to my face. Real progress.โ€

I carry on as if he hasnโ€™t spoken. โ€œYouโ€™re late because you went to get

coffee?โ€

โ€œSee.โ€ He points at me, as if Iโ€™ve just offered valuable evidence for his thesis statement. โ€œSo much more straightforward.โ€ He takes another slow sip. โ€œAnd yes, congratulations, your beverage-detection abilities are impressive. It is, in fact, black coffee.โ€

I wrinkle my nose. The bitter scent is so sharp I can practically taste it. โ€œHow do you even manage to drink that without sugar or cream?โ€

โ€œI find it bracing.โ€ The corner of his mouth quirks, his eyes black and razor-sharp on me. โ€œAnd perhaps I prefer the challenge.โ€

โ€œSounds masochistic.โ€

โ€œIt does, doesnโ€™t it?โ€ he says. Then he turns to the board. Looks over it

โ€”my hard work, the resourcesย Iโ€™dย prepared ahead of time, the detailed sticky notes and calculationsโ€”for all of five seconds before he tells me, โ€œThe beach destination wonโ€™t work, by the way. We should eliminate that right off the bat.โ€

โ€œExcuse me? Why not?โ€ The beach retreat was the place Iโ€™d found most promising. Itโ€™s only a two-hour drive from here, and the scenery is beautiful: smooth sand and turquoise waves and hammocks strung between

palm trees. Iโ€™d even started making a list of all the activities we could do, from beach volleyball to surfing to picking up trash, which isnโ€™t as fun but is definitely good for the environment. The environment committee could write an article about it for the yearbook.

โ€œDonโ€™t get me wrong, itโ€™s pretty,โ€ he says with a shrug. โ€œBut thatโ€™s also the problem. Itโ€™s too romantic.โ€

I stare at him.

He sighs. Like Iโ€™m being dense on purpose. โ€œDo you know what the teachersโ€™ biggest fear with these kinds of retreats is?โ€

โ€œThat one of us will drop dead and the school will end up involved in a long, painful, costly lawsuit despite the fact that they made all our parents sign that form that says in very fine print that nobody is to blame if weโ€™re injured, abducted, or murdered.โ€

โ€œClose, but no. If we die, thatโ€™s very inconvenient for them. If we hook up, thatโ€™s both inconvenientย andย awkward for them.โ€

Iโ€™m pretty sure all my organs stop functioning. โ€œWhatโ€”โ€

โ€œWhen I sayย we, I obviously donโ€™t meanโ€”us,โ€ he clarifies, and despite the taunting note in his voice, his cheeks turn red. Heโ€™sย blushing, I realize. Itโ€™s so bizarre. So unlike him. Itโ€™s a visible weakness, and I quietly file it away for later use. โ€œI mean in general. I believe thereโ€™s a scientific equation for it: The probability of teenagers sneaking into each otherโ€™s rooms and hooking up increases by zero-point-four when you put them in a scenic beach setting.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re making that up,โ€ I tell him. โ€œYouโ€™re literally just saying that because you enjoy disagreeing with me.โ€

He rolls his eyes. โ€œDonโ€™t flatter yourself. Iโ€™m only saying what I know

is true.โ€ Then he moves to take down the beach retreat flyer from the board.

In one quick movement, I clap my hand over his. Force his fingers to flatten. Ignore the heat of his skin against my palm. โ€œWeโ€™re meant toย agreeย on a destination together. And I donโ€™t agree with you right now.โ€

โ€œWhen have you ever?โ€ he mutters. But he shakes his hand free from mine, which should be more satisfying than hurtful.

โ€œIโ€™m not saying that it wouldnโ€™t be an issue if the retreat turned into some kind of . . . matchmaking process,โ€ I tell him. โ€œBut is the beach necessarily conducive to that? Who says it has to be romantic?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know,โ€ he says sarcastically, pretending to think. โ€œOnly every movie and beach read and song to come out in the past decade.โ€ He must see the stubborn disbelief written over my face, because he tilts his head. Sighs again. โ€œOkay, since youโ€™re so lacking in imagination, let me set the scene for you. Itโ€™s sunset, the sky is the perfect shade of pink, the air just warm enough that you can slip out of your sweater and set it down on the sand like a towel. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, taste

the salt on your tongue. Thereโ€™s music playing softly from someoneโ€™s phone speaker. Youโ€™re sitting next to the person youโ€™ve been eyeing for the whole semester, and when a breeze rises and messes up your hair, he lifts his hand and . . .โ€

And he actually demonstrates, reaching out across the tight space and brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his cool fingertips grazing my skin. Itโ€™s such a small, brief motion, the lightest touch. Itโ€™s pathetic that I would even notice it. But I feel a sharp pang echo through my ribs, so

intense it almost resembles pain. My whole body overreacts as if Iโ€™m in mortal danger, my heartbeat thudding faster and faster until I canโ€™t stand it. I squeeze my eyes shut against the emotion, and when I open them again, heโ€™s staring at me, his jaw strained.

He swallows, once.

โ€œIโ€”donโ€™t see your point,โ€ I manage, my voice too loud.

His brows rise, his hand still lingering above my ear. โ€œYou donโ€™t?โ€

It requires an incredible amount of strength just to speak. โ€œNo. Andโ€”โ€ I push down the odd lump in my throat. Do my best to sound as flippant as possible. โ€œI think youโ€™re not giving ourโ€”peersย enough credit. They have

someย discipline, you know. Itโ€™s not like theyโ€™re going to try and sneak off into the cabins to make out just because the viewโ€™s pretty and someone touched their hairโ€”โ€

โ€œNot even if they did this?โ€ he asks quietly, and he leans forward. All at once heโ€™s too close, overwhelmingly close. Iโ€™m frozen to the spot as he

pauses on purpose, his mouth bare inches from the base of my neck, so I can feel his breath trembling against my skin. โ€œDo you need me to

demonstrate further?โ€

A low, hoarse sound escapes my lips. It could be a protest or a plea; I donโ€™t know anymore. I donโ€™t know anything.

โ€œWhat was that, Sadie?โ€ he presses, lowering himself by just another fraction of an inchโ€”

I shove him away.ย โ€œI get it.โ€ย My heart is still beating at an abnormal rate, heat coursing furiously through my veins. Yet even worse than my fear of what mightโ€™ve happened is the disappointment that it didnโ€™t. And the fear that he can somehow sense my disappointment, the itch in my skin from

where his mouth had hovered seconds earlier.ย Only physical attraction, I remind myself sternly. It must be some kind of unfortunate side effect left over from the kiss at the party. โ€œI get it, okay? You didnโ€™t have to make your case in such a disgusting manner.โ€

Something shifts in his expression. Then he smiles, and itโ€™s as smug as ever. โ€œAre you admitting that Iโ€™m right?โ€

โ€œYes. Fine. Whatever,โ€ I spit out. Iโ€™ve lost the argument, but it feels like Iโ€™ve lost something more than that. โ€œLetโ€™s hear your proposal, then.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s exactly what we shouldโ€™ve done from the beginning.โ€ He steps back and starts searching locations up on his phone with the brisk manner of someone in a business meeting, leaving me to wonder if I hallucinated

the past five minutes. The only evidence of it is the uneven beat of my pulse and the hair tucked behind my ear. โ€œHow about this?โ€ he asks, showing me the photo on his screen.

Itโ€™s a retreat in the middle of the mountain range three hours from here, and all the walls and floors are made of glass. It also happens to be suspended almost two thousand feet above a valley, with an โ€œopen-air seating areaโ€ available on the rooftop. The main website describes the

views as โ€œthrilling,โ€ which I mentally translate into โ€œterrifying.โ€

โ€œYou realize there are at least five people in our year level who are scared of heights, right?โ€ I ask.

He doesnโ€™t even bat an eye. โ€œThen this is precisely what they need.

Exposure therapy has been proven to work, hasnโ€™t it?โ€ โ€œHow can you be soโ€”soย callous?โ€ I demand. โ€œIโ€™m not callous. Youโ€™re just soft.โ€

I grit my teeth. โ€œConsiderate, you mean. Thoughtful. Responsible.โ€ โ€œIn futile, stubborn pursuit of making every single person happy, is

what I mean,โ€ he corrects me.

โ€œAnd what about it?โ€ I push his phone back into his hand. โ€œThis is our last trip together as a year before graduation. I want everyone to have an amazing time, and that wonโ€™t happen if some people canโ€™t even make it from one room to another. Have you seen the reviews? You practically need a helmet and a harness just to get into bed.โ€

โ€œWhich definitely solves the hooking-up problem,โ€ he retorts, grinning. โ€œDonโ€™t act so sure. Some people actually enjoy that sort of thing.โ€

He looks briefly taken aback, then bites his lip, shaking with laughter. Leaning in closer, he tilts his head at me. โ€œWow, I never thought you were that type.โ€

โ€œShut up,โ€ I grumble. โ€œI was just making a point.โ€

โ€œSo was I.โ€

โ€œYour point isnโ€™t convincing enough,โ€ I say, pulling my gaze away from him. โ€œLetโ€™s go back to the drawing board.โ€

โ€œYour wish is my command,โ€ he replies, sweetness lacing his words. I glance up at him, and suddenly Iโ€™m flustered, stumbling over my thoughts. He bursts into laughter, and my cheeks burn. โ€œYou really like that, donโ€™t you? So you are that typeโ€”โ€

I turn my head away and drag my laptop closer like a shield. We spend the rest of the period bouncing ideas back and forth. I suggest a farm; he counters that he wants to avoid the risk of stepping in animal waste. He pulls up a website for an โ€œaffordableโ€ five-star hotel in the city center; I remind him that โ€œaffordableโ€ only works if the school sells drugs or donates our kidneys, leading us to debate which teacher looks most like a potential dealer. We both agree on Mr. Kaye, and I canโ€™t help but feel how sad it is that this is our only shared insight.

weโ€™ve managed to agree on so far). I then raise the idea of traveling to a national park; he protests that he doesnโ€™t enjoy parks.

โ€œWhy are you making this so hard, Julius? Didnโ€™t you hear the

principal? The second we finish this proposal, the torture will stop and weโ€™ll be released from each other at last. We wonโ€™t even have to speak to each other ever again.โ€

A strange look crosses his face. โ€œI know that.โ€ โ€œThenโ€”โ€

โ€œLetโ€™s choose this place,โ€ he says, the humor gone from his tone. He points at a lakeside location Iโ€™d picked and heโ€™d dismissed because he found the welcome message on their home pageย suspiciously friendly.

I blink. โ€œReally? Thatโ€™sโ€” You agree?โ€

โ€œYeah. Sure.โ€ He stands up and grabs his coffee cup, all without looking at me. And even though I should be glad weโ€™ve ticked off our final task, gladder still to be rid of him, I feel more like Iโ€™ve missed a step on the stairs. Before I can put a finger on it, he turns around on his way out and

says only, โ€œCongratulations, Sadie. The torture is over.โ€

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