Sophomore Switch(55)
Author: Abby McDonald

“I’ll bet.” I take the file and don’t even bother looking at the grade. I know it’ll suck, but that wasn’t the point.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun back at home.”

“I’m sure I will.” I’m at the door before I turn back to her. It’s the same as this morning with Dr. Aldridge, but this time I’m the one who’s getting the final word.

“You know, you’re the one who’s supposed to be the adult here.” I make sure every word carries, not caring when her mouth drops open in a tiny “o.” “I really respected you. I mean, you were so helpful and supportive; it was like my opinions mattered.” I stare at her, this woman who made me feel so smart and so dumb all in the space of one semester. “But you’re just as hypocritical as the rest of them. The minute it looks like I’m not one of Carrie’s little clones, you act like I’m totally worthless.” I shake my head. “That’s not good teaching, but more than that, it’s crappy feminism.”

I don’t stick around to hear if she’s got anything to say. It wouldn’t mean anything to me, anyway. Besides, I’ve got a good-bye celebration to get to. There’s only the two of us, but who needs a crowd?

28

I spend the next two days after our premiere inhabiting the delightful state of denial. I sleep on Carla’s floor to avoid Morgan’s wrath, refrain from answering my phone to avoid Ryan’s enthusiasm, and throw myself into studying for finals to avoid thinking about the end of my stay and my impending return to Oxford.

I am nothing if not a multitasker.

“Put the poor guy out of his misery.” Carla points a highlighter at me as my mobile begins to vibrate again. “That’s, like, the sixth time tonight.”

“I can’t.” I look up from my textbook and press “decline call.” “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“What is there to say?”

“Um, ‘You know that summer job you’re so excited about us doing together? I’m not taking it, I’m going back to England, and I’ll probably never see you again.’ Yes, that’s just perfect.” I sigh, reaching for my aspirin. Ever since my life exploded into drama, I’ve had the most terrible headache.

Carla rolls her eyes. “So take the job.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Because of your dream internship, yeah, I know.” Carla fixes me with a stare. “If you’re switching back to the old you, what’s with the outfit?”

I look down at my powder-blue polo shirt and denim skirt and shrug. “Habit, I suppose. Don’t forget, half my things are still at Morgan’s.”

“Which you need to get if you’re going to pack in time,” Carla reminds me.

“What’s the point? She’s probably burned them all by now.”

“True.”

I think of Morgan’s drama-queen routine and wonder if I can do without all those trivial possessions. My laptop, for example. Or my passport. “It’s all right. I doubt I’ll need Uggs in the offices of Sterns, Cahill, and Coutts.”

“For something you swear is the perfect job, you’re sure not enthusiastic about it.”

I stiffen. “Because I feel terrible about letting Ryan down.”

“Sure, sure.” Carla glances back at her notes. “If I didn’t have a killer history final tomorrow morning, I’d be grilling you right now.”

I sit back in my seat, looking around the busy study section full of panicked last-minute crammers and take-away coffee cups. If only we hadn’t kissed. My life would be so much simpler if we just hadn’t kissed.

“And even if I did want to come back for summer, which I don’t,” I muse, “I couldn’t give up my dream for Ryan. What kind of girl would that make me?”

“Julian Morton’s personal protégée?”

“No! I’d be one of those girls who sacrifices all her own ambition to fit around a boy’s plans.” I cross my arms firmly. “And I hate those girls.”

“That’s true.” Carla shrugs. “But . . .”

“No ‘but.’ There are no ‘buts’ involved.”

She laughs. “What if you really do want to take the L.A. job, but you’re refusing to even think about it because of Ryan? Isn’t that still making your decision based on a boy?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not helping.”

“Hey, I was just putting it out there.” She holds her hands up. “But if you want to let the chance of a lifetime slip by, just because it happens to come with a summer of hot make-out action as a bonus . . .” Carla’s expression is supremely dubious.

I sink my head onto the table and groan.

“I had a plan!”

She pats my head gently. “Plans change, Em.”

“Not mine.” I sigh wistfully. “My plans come with built-in contingencies and backup insurance and special allowances for unexpected variations. The plan itself never changes.”

“So think of this as one of those unexpected variants.”

I smile sadly. “It doesn’t fit. Summer working on a film in L.A. . . . How does that get me any nearer to my law career?”

Carla shakes her head. “Get it together. So you spend the summer in L.A. or London; either way you have to talk to Ryan.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Carla’s eyes flicker over my shoulder, and I turn to find Ryan fifteen feet away, his battered black sneakers approaching fast.

“Oh, crap.”

“Em.” His face isn’t happy, and I can’t blame him. If he’d kiss-and-run the way I did, I would be an angry, raging mess by now.

“Hi.” I try to smile, but he simply towers over me. My stomach tightens.

“Let’s go talk somewhere.”

“I’d really love to,” I say limply, “but I have finals and —” He takes my hand and looks at me with those cloudy dark eyes. “I suppose I have time,” I finish in a whisper. He nods and walks away, out of the side library entrance and toward the small memorial garden.

I follow slowly, apprehension growing with every step. I’m not usually this way, shrinking away from difficult conversations as if I’m scared of confrontation. In fact, I’ve often been the one urging friends to face challenges head-on, rather than let them grow out of all proportion. And here I am, dreading every word because this time it all seems to matter so much more.