Chapter Seven

Edelweiss

“Yup. Now we’re talking.” Tuti tucks her iPad and notebook under her arm while she checks me out.

“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” I gaze down at my blue pleated skirt, which Tuti insisted I roll up.

“As long as it’s an inch past your fingertips, you’re fine.”

“But it originally sat at my knees.”

“Listen, you may not care about Emma targeting you, but I do. There’s no way I can let you walk into the dining hall looking like you’re a schoolgirl from the 1930s. Just because we all wear uniforms doesn’t mean we can’t look cute.” She picks up the Brockmore Academy brochure I’ve opened and closed a hundred times. “Even in the brochure the girls are rolling up their waistbands. And—what?—this thing has to be at least ten years old. Cuffed socks. No one would be caught dead rolling their socks.”

“Okay, okay.” I smooth out my white blouse, studying myself in the mirror. Butterflies zoom through my stomach while I apply a light layer of lip gloss.

The simple freedom of putting on makeup without seeing my dad’s eyebrows raised is glorious. I even put on eyeliner, because why not?

Now I can scratch Wear too much makeup for fun off my list. Win!

While we walk out of the dormitory, a few of the senior girls study me, but no one stares. My heart falls into a steady rhythm on the way down the stairs. Maybe yesterday’s events are already old news.

Below, the atrium is bustling with the school fair. “How many activities is it normal to join?”

“Are you serious?” Tuti laughs, brushing her hand along the handrail of the grand stairway while we descend.

“I don’t want to join too many and look foolish, or not join enough and look lazy.”

“Don’t overthink everything, Edelweiss. Join what you want to do, and no one will think you’re strange.” She plucks a handout off the table. “Here’s a list of all the organizations.”

Biking club. Horseback riding. Student council. Art club. Film club. The list goes on and on. “But I want to do all of this. How much is manageable with the academic schedule?”

“Okay, first, you need to stop asking questions like that. If you act like an outsider, people will treat you like an outsider. Second…” She sighs, fixing my collar. “I wouldn’t join more than two activities at a time. Like I plan to sign up for art club and running club. That’ll give me three morning runs a week with a place to hang out every Thursday night in the art studio. It’s all about balance.”

“So two things?”

“It’s a good place to start.” She waves at Jordan, who’s juggling tennis balls near a sorry-looking sign-up sheet. “He’s the proud president of the juggling club.”

“There’s a juggling club?”

“Yeah.” She shakes her head with a smile. “I’m going to go see if he managed to wrangle any freshman into his grasp this year. You good?” She shifts away, obviously wanting some time to herself.

“I’m good.”

“Meet you after math for lunch?”

“Near the front steps, right?”

“Yup.” She snatches the tennis ball Jordan tosses at her.

The atrium bustles with people zipping around tables. Only the freshmen and I linger in the middle, studying the list.

“Hey, Edelweiss!” When I look up, my heart catches in my throat. James pauses at the head of the stairs, owning that navy-blue Brockmore blazer better than any guy in school. He jogs down the steps. “Look at you, all Brockmore’d up. Very nice.”

“Thanks?” I glance back down at my paper.

“Are you still planning to run for student council?” he asks.

“Yeah, and I’m thinking I may do the film club. What do they do?”

“They get to pick the free movies for students every Friday night and probably geek out about the Sundance Film Festival.”

I raise my eyebrow. Film is obviously not his forte. “Sounds good to me.”

“So you’re a film geek?” He follows me over to the table that’s currently empty except the sign-up paper.

“Not yet.” I scribble my name on the paper. “But maybe someday. What did you sign up for?”

“I was thinking about student council.”

“Really?” I glance over at the table under the student council banner, noting how no one but a group of scrawny kids that can only be freshmen hover around it, and that may be by accident.

“Come on.” He tugs my hand. Just like yesterday, the warmth of his palm on my skin somehow awakens my hand to its own existence. “Let’s sign up together.”

The room shifts the moment James steps up to the student council table. Everyone’s eyes are on him and murmurs float around us while he writes down his name. I sign up next, and when I turn around, three more people have lined up behind me.

“Excuse me,” he says politely, stepping to the side to let another student take his place at the table.

Does he even realize how much power he has here?

He adjusts his leather bag on his shoulder. “Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll tell you what to avoid. Never fall for the grits. They look nice and creamy, but the chef ads so much salt that you’ll feel like you’re moving through molasses for a day.”

I cock my head. Why on earth would he want to have breakfast with me after yesterday? “You don’t have to do this.”

He groans. “Come on.”

“I don’t want to be your charity case, James,” I whisper while I follow him down toward the dining hall. “You can eat with your friends. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I want to eat with you. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, plus…” He nods toward the girls giggling against the wall. “I’m starting to realize how having you at my side could be beneficial.”

Whoa. My neck warms. Maybe I’ll be able to survive Brockmore after all. The smells of bacon and maple syrup greet me before I even step foot in the dining hall. White linens still cover the tables, but the fancy centerpieces have been removed.

“Are you reconsidering my proposition?” I ask.

“Nope.”

My confidence deflates. Back to keeping my head low. Now I know what a balloon feels like.

He hands me a plate before conquering the buffet, piling his plate so full of baked goods and eggs that it looks like a giant breakfast volcano. I try to make sure my choices compensate for his gross serving size, a meager helping of eggs and fruit. After seeing my parents work so hard to fight child malnutrition, I’m pretty sure I’ll strangle him if any of that lands in the trash.

“I already had football practice this morning and ran three miles,” he explains when he sits down across from me, catching me eyeing his food like he plundered it from an orphanage. “Breakfast is my main meal. Water, milk, or juice?” he asks.

“Water.”

“On it.” A moment later he returns with a glass of water for each of us, plus an additional cup of milk for himself. “So, yesterday was unique.”

“A nice word for it.” I nibble on some cantaloupe, restraining myself from the tempting need to click my thumb joint. “Did you get in trouble for the prank yesterday?”

“Nearly eaten alive.” He winces. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What happened?”

“My dad decided to pull me from Brockmore.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” My fork clinks against my plate as I set it down.

“It’s okay.” He sips from his glass. “I convinced him to let me stay.”

“How?”

“Well, this is where your idea comes back into play.”

What? He better not be kidding. I lean in. “I thought you weren’t reconsidering.”

“That’s because I’ve already made a decision.” He gets up and drags his plate over so he’s sitting next to me. He whispers. “My dad won’t dare drag me out of Brockmore because he thinks we’re dating. He doesn’t want to piss off your father.”

He told his father before he even told me.

I turn to him and take a deep breath. The question I’m about to ask is direct. Perhaps too direct, but I don’t care at this point. The last ten minutes he’s led me through a web of too much nuance. “So are we dating?”

“We are now. I failed to see your brilliant vision yesterday, but I get it now. This will be perfect. We’ll both be left alone to enjoy the year our own way, and I won’t have to move to upstate New York.”

“Right.” My feet jitter under the table as I wrap my mind around what’s happening. I have a boyfriend. Well, a fake boyfriend, but still! There will be dates and stuff, which means I’ll be able to check first date off my list before the month is up.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He turns to face me, his eyes doing that thing where they seem to be searching every inch of my soul. Not fair.

I can’t help but smile. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t want to watch Emma eat you alive just because you’re beautiful.”

Beautiful? My stomach flips over, and I want to sock myself in the gut. This is a business relationship, nothing more.

“I can give you a leg up so you can find a secure place here at Brockmore. Hell, when the year is done and you dump me, you’ll usurp me. The school will be at your fingertips, and you’ll be a shoo-in for president of student council your senior year. What do you say?”

A ball knots up in the back of my throat. Yesterday it was easy to ask him for a fake relationship, but today, with daylight pouring through the window, I can feel the weight of the lie. This will require lying to my parents and Tuti, Charlotte, and Ainsley.

“Edelweiss, we aren’t going to get anywhere without being honest with each other.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears, studying the cantaloupe on my plate. “James, lying for an entire year is going to be hard.”

“Well, I want to be your friend. So what if we mislabel our friendship a bit? You’re cool. Let people interpret girl friend to be girlfriend and boy friend to be boyfriend. We don’t have to lie.”

I glance down at my plate. “I’m a little nervous of what people will think of me, considering all of your experience with girls that you bragged about yesterday.”

He sighs. “I don’t want to put on that kind of show. We’ll stick to some hand-holding, a peck on the cheek here and there. Nothing more. Friends with minimal benefits.”

“What happens if one of us finds someone we like, though?”

“Then we break up and remain friends. Hell, I’ll even help you find the guy of your dreams if you haven’t already by the end of the year.”

“And if we don’t get along?”

“Then you get to dump my ass. I promise.”

“A get-out-of-jail-free card?” I pop a tart raspberry in my mouth.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” His eyes brighten.

I tuck my hands into my lap, forcing myself to sit straight and tall. “A temporary relationship?” One that’ll safely allow me to check off the box I was most afraid to tackle on my list: dating and breaking up.

“The timetable is yours to manage, but please hang in there a few weeks so I have more time to show my father I’m serious about Brockmore.”

“Do you really think we can pull this off?” I glance at what seems to be a constant stream of students flowing in and out of the room. A girl a few tables away keeps glancing over her shoulder at James. There will be so many eyes who could notice us slipping up, and many girls waiting to pounce and take my place.

Excitement swirls in my chest. Whatever I just signed up for will at the very least be an adventure. One that’s all my own.

James leans back, placing both hands behind his neck, grinning. “Did Hemingway cheat on his wife?”

I let out a short, dry laugh and sip my water. “The irony of your statement does not escape me.”

He laughs with a twinkle in his eyes. “A smart girlfriend. Now this will be fun.”