The final confirmation had come that afternoon, but seeing it in black and white only filled me with dread. I watched as she reached for comforting words she could give me. I could practically see her scanning her brain for the right ones, a child choosing a toy carefully from the shelf to share.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “You can do anything you want with your points.”

I smiled and agreed that I would work it out, because what was the use of telling her that I didn’t want to go to university anyway?

I heard a dozen different career options from my classmates that night, shouted into my ear with beer breath and crisp crumbs. Biomedical science, hospitality and events, philosophy, graphic design, pharmacology, and the oddly specific town and country planning and landscape design.

I nodded politely and told everyone That sounds really interesting. They asked me what I was doing and I stopped telling them I didn’t know. I told everyone something different instead, borrowing from other classmates. When Jennifer Loughran told me she was going to do occupational therapy, I told Shane Nelson I was doing occupational therapy, and so on. I told Aisling Cheung I was going to study forensic science in Glasgow and when she started talking to me about CSI, I pretended I had to pee.

Oliver was in the piano room again. He wasn’t at the piano this time; he was sitting on the floor against the wall, reading a book. There was an empty glass and a bottle of vodka beside him.

“I knew the good stuff would be in here with you,” I said. “You’re very predictable, you know.” I slouched down beside him.

“This is for you,” he said, handing me the empty glass and the bottle. “I’m teetotal tonight. I have to drive in the morning.”

I pursed my lips, but I took the glass anyway and poured myself a drink. “If being predictable means I get bottle service then I guess I can live with it.”

I sipped it. It didn’t burn like the cheap stuff. “Where do you have to drive in the morning?”

Oliver blushed. “Summer camp,” he mumbled. “I’m volunteering at a summer camp, OK? Ruby saw a flyer about it and my parents wouldn’t leave me alone.”

I didn’t laugh like I normally would have, picturing Oliver rounding up kids and teaching them archery and canoeing. Ruby’s name hung in the silence between us. Ruby Ruby Ruby.

“What happened?” Oliver asked eventually.

I swished the memory of the fight around in my mouth like I was trying to extract flavors from a nice wine, but it all tasted bitter.

“I think I fucked up,” I said.

“That sounds about right.” Oliver nodded. “She didn’t say anything. I don’t know if I should tell you, but she’s really upset.”