“Yes and no.”

Her brows scrunch with confusion. “But you’re heading off to college. Aren’t you excited?”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“Is it because you don’t want to leave your friends behind? Your girlfriend?”

I try to think of who she could be referring to. There was a night a few weeks ago when Francesca and I got carried away, but…

“I don’t have a girlfriend, so no. And my friends will all be within arm’s reach, even if I’m halfway across the world. I’m going to school in Paris, and between you and me, I’m ready for a fresh start.”

“Well then what’s holding you back?”

Now I’m the quiet one.

She bumps her shoulder against my arm lightly. “You can tell me. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

I nearly smile at her earnestness.

Instead, I shrug. “It’s not some big thrilling thing. Just…people expect a lot from me. There’s a life plan I need to follow.”

“Or what?”

“Or…nothing. I’ll be unremarkable. A failure.”

She doesn’t reply, and when I turn to look at her, she’s furrowed her brows as if she can’t comprehend that fate for me.

Then she looks down at where her arms have a firm grasp around her legs. “Yeah…well, I envy you getting to leave. I still have so many more years here.”

“It doesn’t have to be miserable.”

“I have no friends,” she says, point-blank.

“You could try to put yourself out there more.”

“The same way you try to be less angry? Less intense? And how does that work out for you?”

What an astute little thing.

“You’re right. People are who they are. But sadness is a heavy thing to carry for so long.”

“I’m allowed to be sad—I’m grieving.”

Right. Her parents both died earlier this year. It was fuel for a lot of the rumors about her. I feel like an asshole for forgetting that.

“Do you want to talk about—”

“No.”

She’s made herself clear, but I still feel bad, so I volunteer something I’ve never shared with anyone else at St. John’s outside of Alexander.

“I had a sister about your age.”

Her eyes widen in alarm. “Is she dead?”

“No. I used to wish, sometimes…” Fuck, that’s cruel. I shake my head. “She’s not at St. John’s. In fact, I barely know her. We have different mothers, but I imagine she’s a lot like you, smart and quiet.”

“How do you know I’m smart?”

“Wild hunch. Are you not?”

“I am,” she says indignantly. “I get As in all my classes.”

“Good.”

She suddenly leans forward and pushes aside some of the books I’ve brought to return so she can read the spines more clearly. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this book for months. I was about to just buy it.”

I look down at the copy of East of Eden by John Steinbeck.

“You’re reading East of Eden?”

“I would be, only someone’s been hoarding it.”

I almost chuckle as I lean forward to grab it and pass it over to her. “There, it’s yours. If you’re interested in that one, I think you’d also like A Farewell to Arms.”