“Because that’s Arthur,” I said simply, and my heart grew warm. I saw the image of the time he helped Steve and so many other moments. “He’s kind. And we’ve already kind of talked about you going there.”

She stared at me for a moment. Then to my shock, she deleted my text. “No.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m not going to take your place.”

“Why not? I took yours.”

“We can’t know that for sure.”

“I didn’t get in the first time, only after someone”—I pointed at her—“dropped out.”

“Whatever. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

She started walking away from me so I shouted: “I’m not the only person not coming back next semester!”

Double negative notwithstanding, this stopped her.

She waited then rolled her arm. “Go on.”

“Thea Selsky. My roommate. Or ex-roommate. She’s pregnant and apparently dropping out. Which means there’s at least one opening other than my own.”

Ayisha’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Super seriously. Fully knocked up. By a guy named Beaux. With an ‘x’.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“You’re talking about the ‘x’ part.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “I am.”

I smiled like I was on the verge of getting admission to some sort of long-sought club. Before she could utter a single syllable, I texted her Arthur’s information a second time. “There. There’s no reason for you not to check your status.” I could feel her resolve starting to shift. “You got in once before. You should at least try again.”

She stared down at the second text. Then looked back up at me. “What about you? Are you going to try again?”

“What do you mean?”

“You failed there, right?”

“Well, I mean, my GPA is 2.8, so not technically failing. More like, I feel like a failure.”

“Then you’d better work harder next time. Because if I get in and I whip your ass, I don’t want to hear any of your stupid whiny excuses about shit being so hard.”

“But—”

“Nope.” Her thumb hovered over the delete button a second time.

“Don’t!”

“Then you’d better get your ass back there, because if I do get into that super-prestigious boarding school and I have to deal with a bunch of white girls named Muffy and Buffy, I am not doing this alone. Got it?” When I didn’t immediately respond she stepped closer and poked me in my sternum with her index finger. “I said, ‘Got it?’ ”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I chose to nod. “Yep.”

She nodded, too, then glanced over her shoulder when a bare-chested Brody ran out of the front of the house in pursuit of one of his football buddies, who held his plaid button-up shirt high.

Brody yelled, “Give it back, Parker!”

“Make me!” was the response.

“Suck my dick!”