Toe the Line
Where is everyone?
I turn in my chair and peer through the glass wall of the study room. The other three spots around the conference table sit empty. No sign of my group. I half expected Reese and Eleanor to bail on our meeting after their epic death match in the dining hall this morning. But Nora? It’s not like her to be late. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed is more her style.
The thought makes me grin. I’ll admit I was looking forward to this work session with Nora. Looking forward to it way more than I should…
I spin my chair in a circle, pushing off against the tabletop to pick up speed. The second floor of the library whizzes by in a whirl. Round and round and round. I’ll be dizzy when I stop. Too dizzy to stand up straight. Too dizzy to think straight. But I haven’t been thinking straight for a while. Not since yesterday afternoon at The Overlook.
I stomp my feet on the ground to stop the chair, but the world keeps on spinning.
“Nora,” I murmur, raking my fingers through my hair. What am I going to do about that girl?
I shouldn’t have made a move on her. Reckless, that’s what it was. I got swept up in the moment—all alone with her away from prying eyes—and the challenge of proving to her that I’m not some lying cheat.
I proved myself, all right. My ex-girlfriend’s non-reaction has me baffled. I figured she’d tell her parents to yank my funding as soon as Reese showed her the interaction data. I’ve been holding my breath all day, waiting for the ax to fall.
Is it possible Reese didn’t tell her about the kiss?
Maybe Reese didn’t consider it worth mentioning. It wasn’t a real kiss, after all. It could have been if I’d gone for it—and damn if it wasn’t tempting—but I caught myself. There’s a line between virtual and real, and I managed to pull back before I crossed it.
That’s my plan with Nora. Toe the line, but don’t step past. Not until I’ve figured out a way to proceed without Eleanor catching wind.
Behind me, the study room door creaks open. Finally. I sit up and straighten my shoulders as I turn to greet my group members. Reese alone lurks in the doorway, poking her head through the gap.
Her face looks different than usual. I can’t remember the last time I saw her without the Day-Glo eye shadow and bubblegum pink lipstick. I study her, struck by the overwhelming resemblance to her older brother. Aside from her hair, she and Emerson could be twins with their matching pale blue eyes and dimpled cheeks. Is that why she wears so much makeup? To set herself apart?
“Meeting’s canceled,” she tells me in a flat voice. She moves to close the door again.
I’m going to need more information. “Wait!” I prepare to chase after her, but she hesitates in the doorway and then enters the room.
“What’s going on?” I ask her. “Are you and Eleanor—”
She gives her head a tiny shake to cut me off. Something in her eyes warns me not to mention that name again. I can’t tell from Reese’s expression if she’s angry, hurt, or both. Maybe she doesn’t know herself. She looks startled mostly—like she’s been sucker punched. I can’t say I blame her. Eleanor took us all by surprise with her announcement over breakfast.
Skipping senior year?
I guess it explains a few things about Eleanor’s behavior lately. No wonder she wasn’t too upset by my decision to break up with her. She must have been planning to dump me herself. Once this summer session ends, she’s leaving Winthrop Academy for good. She’s just miffed because I beat her to the punch.
I wonder…
Did the falling out between Eleanor and Reese have anything to do with me—and the recent uptick in rabbit-related activity on my InstaLove account? I’m dying to pump Reese for information, but I hold back. One look at her face warns me not to go there.
“Sit.” I gesture toward the chair across from mine. “Talk to me. Are you OK?”
She looks down at the chair but doesn’t take a seat. “I’m fine,” she says softly. “It’ll blow over. She’s not really going. She wouldn’t.”
I’m not so sure, but I don’t contradict Reese. She knows Eleanor better than anyone. Maybe she’s right. This is all another game, designed by Eleanor to get a rise out of us. A week from now she’ll laugh her tinkling laugh and announce she was only kidding. Stanford… Like hell she’s going to Stanford. It’s not even Ivy League!
Still, if Eleanor wanted to hurt Reese, she could hardly have picked a better way. EOF… Reese’s favorite catchphrase, flung back in her face. Everyone in the dining hall fell silent when Eleanor shouted it. We all knew what it meant. That’s one talent of Eleanor’s I’ve always found incredible—that effortless way she’s able to define a new piece of slang for everyone within earshot, purely from the context and the expression on her face.
EOF.
Not End of File.
End of Friendship.
No wonder Reese couldn’t summon up an answer. She stood frozen, stunned silent, mouth quivering, and then she turned and fled from the room in front of everyone.
But she looks like she’s recovered her composure, standing before me now. Reese tosses her hair and draws up her shoulders, rearranging her features into their usual businesslike expression. “Don’t worry,” she says to me. “We’ll reschedule the meeting. It’s a minor setback.”
“I wasn’t worried about the meeting, Reese.”
She frowns. “What else?”
“Are you two OK? Are you still rooming together?”
“Of course.” She blinks at me. “Everything’s fine. Nothing’s changed.”
I can’t help but raise my eyebrows. Reese scares me sometimes with her cold-bloodedness. Either the girl’s in complete denial about the conversation that went down, or she’s faking it.
Maybe that’s the answer.
That makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe Reese and Eleanor came to their own “separation agreement”—their own set of terms and conditions, same as mine. Keep up appearances until the end of Maker Fair. Don’t let anyone see the truth. Then go their separate ways with both their heads held high.
But that only leaves my head spinning with more questions. Like, who exactly is Eleanor trying to fool with all these agreements? And why?
* * *
I walk out of the girl’s bathroom and nearly crash right into him.
“Whoa! Careful!”
Did Maddox track my location somehow? He was standing right outside the bathroom door. We collide and I nearly topple, but he grabs me by the shoulder to keep me upright.
I swear I’m not usually accident prone. Only when Maddox is nearby. Maybe I should make a hazard alert for him.
SYSTEM ALERT
Boy ahead! Locate nearest emergency exit. Brace for impact. Assume crash position. Stop, drop, and roll!
Better set the distance parameter for at least a hundred feet to be on the safe side. Although a hundred feet wouldn’t be much help to me now. As I regain my footing, I calculate approximately half an inch of space between my face and the front of Maddox’s shirt. Which means if I look up, his head will be right there. His eyes. His nose. His lips…
I take a hasty step backward.
“Come with me.” His hand is still on my shoulder. It slides down the length of my arm to my wrist, raising goose bumps as it goes. He tugs me in the direction of the stairs.
I turn to follow him. For a moment, I think he might hold my hand, but he lets go as he turns toward the library’s central staircase. “Change of venue,” he says over his shoulder. “This way.”
He waits for me to catch up at the bottom landing. His hand reaches for mine again. This time our palms meet. Our fingers interlock, and a thrill of electricity jolts through me. He turns his head, but not to look at me. His gaze tracks over my shoulder, scouring the area for anyone who might be watching us.
That only makes my heart beat faster and my hand grip his more firmly.
“Come on.” He pulls me toward the stacks, leading me through a maze of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I break into a jog to keep up with his long strides.
“Where are we going?”
“Celestial navigation.”
Um. Was that answer supposed to mean something? I mean, this library has a ton of skylights, but I’m pretty sure we can’t see any stars in the middle of the day.
He pulls to an abrupt stop, and I crash into him again. This time it was no accident. He made me do it on purpose. His arm goes round my waist. I reach for the nearest shelf to steady myself and find myself face-to-face with rows of book spines.
By the Stars: A Workbook
Navigation for Beginners
Celestial Navigation in the GPS Era
Fundamentals of Celestial Navigation for Yachtsmen
“Are we going yachting?” I ask, pulling that last one off the shelf.
He shrugs and takes the book away from me. “Nah. I parked my yacht on the other side of campus.”
“So why are we in this section?”
I can’t imagine how anything in these books might be relevant to our project.
“Dead spot,” he says by way of explanation. “No cameras in range of this shelf.”
Wow. Should I be alarmed by the fact that he knows that?
“So…” He shifts uncomfortably. “We need to talk.”
I nod. “I thought we were having a group meeting.”
He ignores me, slouching against a bookshelf with his hands in the pockets of his perfectly creased khakis. “What were you laughing about with those girls in there?”
“Who?”
“Celeste and M. In the bathroom. I heard you talking.”
My eyes fly open wide. “You were eavesdropping?”
He smiles at me and cocks his head. “If I were eavesdropping, then I wouldn’t have to ask you what you were talking about, would I?”
I suppose that’s true. But still. A little creepy, Maddox… “Maybe I should go back.” I ease a half step away from him.
He reaches for my arm. “Wait. Hold up. I’m sorry. This is coming out wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I need to know if you told them about…” He points back and forth between our chests. “This. You and me.”
“Is there a ‘this’?” I ask, mimicking his gesture.
His hand finds mine again. His thumb runs along my palm, sending off miniature fireworks in the pit of my stomach. “I would like there to be.”
“OK, then—”
“But I need you not to tell anyone.”
I pause a beat. Something tells me this is not how the typical conversation goes when a guy expresses romantic interest. “You mean so your real girlfriend doesn’t find out?”
He blows out his breath. “She’s not my real girlfriend. She’s my ex. And she already knows. That’s why you can’t tell anyone.”
I should let go of his hand. I can’t stop looking at his thumb, tracing circles on my palm. “You understand how sketchy this all seems, right?”
“I know. I’m sorry. Eleanor’s being…weird. Weirder than usual.”
“So? You either care what she thinks, or you don’t.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Is it?”
I retrieve my hand and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I don’t like this. I shouldn’t go along with it. Something about it feels icky. I may be surrounded by books for yachtspeople, but I have no idea how to navigate this ship. This isn’t how this conversation is supposed to go. It shouldn’t feel so scary. So confusing. I meet his eyes uncertainly, and Maddox takes my hand again. Every time he does that, I forget all the reasons why I should turn back.
He dips his head and looks into my face. “I like you, Nora.”
I stare back with a million unspoken questions on the tip of my tongue.
“You like me back,” he whispers. “I know you do.”
True. I’m not enough of an actress to hide that fact from him. But if he really wants this ship to sail, I’ve got a few questions that he needs to answer. Like, for example, why? Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me? Why would someone with a girlfriend as incredible as Eleanor Winthrop want a girl as ordinary as Eleanor Weinberg?
A confident person wouldn’t feel that way, but I can’t help it. At least I’m not pathetic enough to utter the question out loud.
“Don’t do that,” he says, as if he can read the doubts written all over my face. “Don’t compare yourself.”
“It’s kind of unavoidable, isn’t it?”
“The two of you couldn’t be more different.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He’s so close now his forehead grazes mine. I’m staring at his lips. “I mean that as a compliment,” he murmurs.
I close my eyes. I can’t let that mouth of his distract me. It doesn’t add up. She’s smart. She’s rich. She’s popular. She’s probably the prettiest girl here. “She’s perfect,” I whisper.
His hands rise to cup my face, and his thumbs play with the wisps of hair that escaped my ponytail. “I disagree.”
“I have eyes, Maddox.”
“I know. I like your eyes.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I mean I’m not clueless. I have a brain.”
“I like your brain too.” He smiles.
Why does his smile have to do that to me? I’m having a hard time making my brain operate at the moment. Is he going to kiss me? For real this time? I’m pretty sure he would if I closed my eyes and tipped back my head.
But should I? Do I dare?
He lets go of my face and turns his head away. “Shhh,” he whispers. “Someone’s coming.”
He grabs a book and heads back toward the main staircase. My heart is in my throat as I stumble after him. We emerge from between the shelves and nearly run smack into Dr. Carlyle.
The program director looks back and forth between us. His eyes narrow as he peers down the bridge of his nose. “Everything OK, you two?”
“Great! Doing some research. Nora’s idea.” Maddox shoves the book he’s holding into my hands, and I look down at the title.
Celestial Navigation in the GPS Era
Well, that’s not incriminating at all.
“Navigation, huh?” Dr. Carlyle tips his head to one side. Is that laughter in his eyes? Something tells me he knows exactly what the Celestial Navigation section signifies…and the reason why the students of Winthrop Academy have such a keen interest in the topic.
“You can look at that upstairs, but leave it on a cart when you’re finished. The stacks are off-limits for the summer.”
“Oh. Right. OK!” I stammer. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“My bad,” Maddox says. He guides me by the elbow toward the staircase. “Won’t happen again, sir.”
Dr. Carlyle’s voice stops us before we reach the first step. “Have you two seen Miss Winthrop?”
I stumble, nearly tripping. Maddox’s back goes straight. He turns around. “Eleanor?”
“Her mother’s looking for her.”
Maddox answers, and I detect a tremor in his voice. “I thought Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop weren’t coming until Maker Fair.”
“No,” Dr. Carlyle replies. “On the phone. Tell Eleanor to give her mother a call if you see her, will you?”
“You got it, Dr. C.” Maddox tosses a salute. “We’ll let her know.”