10 minutes before the college application deadline, I learned that the three people I trusted most had already chosen a future without me—and were still counting on me to follow the plan they had abandoned.
Chapter 2
At the graduation dinner, Lily and Zoe arrived in identical white dresses. A classmate laughed that they looked like twins, and Lily leaned toward me. “It’s just a dress, Emma. Don’t overthink it.”
Jack had saved the seat beside him, but before I reached it, Zoe said she was cold. He immediately gave her his jacket and shifted closer. “Sit anywhere, Em.”
When we ordered, Ethan told the server, “No onions on Zoe’s plate. She hates them.” He had spent years dropping cilantro onto mine though I hated it. Apparently, consideration was something he had always known how to give.
Someone joked about the Princeton Four breaking up. Zoe lowered her eyes. “Emma’s scores are great. I’m sure she’ll get in.”
Then she added, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but on SAT morning I thought I saw a little paper tucked inside her calculator case.”
I set down my glass. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
Her eyes filled instantly. “No. I never said that. I kept quiet because I didn’t want anyone to misunderstand you.”
Lily twisted her napkin. Jack frowned at me. Ethan said, “She only said what she saw.”
I looked at all three. “Do you believe she was mistaken, or do you believe I cheated?”
No one answered.
I turned on the recorder on my phone. “Zoe, what was on the paper? Where were we standing? What time did you see it?”
Her tears seemed to stop.
“Emma,” Ethan warned.
“If she says this in front of everyone, she can be specific.”
Zoe swallowed. “Maybe I was wrong.”
“Then say that.”
Lily whispered, “Can we not ruin dinner?”
Then Zoe held out her phone. “Mine froze. Can you look?” The moment I took it, she released her grip. The phone hit the tile and shattered.
Ethan snatched it up. “Seriously?”
“She let go.”
Zoe started crying. “I didn’t. But don’t make her apologize, Ethan.”
Jack’s expression hardened. “Why are you doing this to her?”
I stared at him, remembering the bouquet he brought after our last exam and the promise he made beneath my apartment window: At Princeton, I’m finally asking you out for real.
Lily leaned close. “Just say sorry. Everybody’s watching.”
Before I could answer, Zoe stepped toward me. “Emma, please. I don’t blame you.”
She reached for my arm. I moved back. Zoe stumbled sideways, hit the table, and knocked a bottle to the floor. Glass exploded across the tile. She cried out, and blood appeared along her calf.
Jack was beside her first. Ethan turned on me. “Emma Reed,” he said with disgust, “you’ve been spoiled your whole life.”
For one second I saw the boy who had promised at our parents’ funeral that I would never be alone.
“I didn’t push her.”
Nobody listened.
Ethan held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
He pulled it from my purse and slammed it onto the floor. The screen cracked from corner to corner.
“If you don’t understand what someone else’s things mean,” he said, “maybe now you will.”
Jack carried Zoe out. Lily followed, then glanced back. “When you calm down, go to the hospital and apologize.”
Outside, rain came down in hard sheets. My phone was useless, I had no cash, and walking home took over an hour. Once, a single call would have brought one of them. That night, all three were at the hospital with Zoe.
By the time I reached home, I was shaking. I made it inside, slid down the wall, and pressed Mom’s pendant into my palm.
“Mom,” I whispered, “I don’t think I have a home anymore.”
I woke in a hospital with a fever just under 104. A nurse said my elderly neighbor found me unconscious near the door.
Then Ethan came in with Jack and Lily. My heart still lifted before I could stop it.
Ethan’s first words killed that reflex. “Are you satisfied now? Zoe needed stitches, and instead of apologizing, you walked in the rain until you got sick. Is this supposed to make us feel guilty?”
Jack said, “You went too far.”
Lily looked almost sorry. “You know Ethan worries. Getting sick only makes everything worse.”
A soft knock sounded. Zoe entered with a large bouquet.
The scent hit me at once. My throat tightened, my eyes flooded, and I started coughing so hard I could barely speak.
“Take them out.”
Zoe froze. “I didn’t know.”
But they knew. I had been hospitalized for a pollen allergy as a child. Ethan once threw every flower out of our apartment, and Jack carried antihistamines each spring.
Yet Ethan steadied Zoe. “It’s okay. You meant well.”
The nurse rushed in, removed the flowers, and snapped, “She’s allergic. Everyone out.”
As Ethan left, he turned back. “When you’re ready to admit what you did, apologize to Zoe.”
No one came when I was discharged. They had already left for Colorado.
Their pictures filled social media: Zoe in the center, Ethan carrying her backpack, Jack putting his jacket around her. Then I saw the necklace.
Zoe stood against a snowy mountain, smiling into the camera, and Mom’s silver pendant rested at her throat.
I zoomed in until the image blurred. Ethan had not borrowed it with my permission.
He had taken it.
That night, I blocked all three of them, packed a suitcase, and headed south for Duke.
