The next morning, sometime between first and third period, Wes moved out of the room he shared with Addison. I was there with Addison when he walked in and found half the room emptied.
“What the hell?” he asked.
As soon as he said it, I saw it. The blanket on the bed had been drawn up straight for once. Wes’s books and piles of papers had been cleared from his desk. His bucket of shower supplies. His towel. His robe. Even the wardrobe and chest of drawers were empty when we checked.
“Maybe he went home?” I suggested. Addison checked through his own wardrobe, yanked open the drawers on his side of the room. “He didn’t steal anything?” He still didn’t answer me. He squatted down to check under Wes’s bed. No duffel bag. No suitcase.
“He didn’t say anything to you?” I asked, still thinking we’d find a reasonable explanation. School visit. Family emergency. Something.
“No, what did he say to you?” Addison turned to me and I saw his temper ramping up. “Yesterday. When you couldn’t get out of the van fast enough, just to spend time talking to Wes in the parking lot?” The dread in my stomach was starting to feel familiar.
“Nothing.” I thought to myself, Wes, you prick. You could have given me a heads-up. I stuck to our story. “We talked about you, how worried we were. Are. I think that last conversation freaked him out a little.” Oh Christ. As soon as I said it, I recognized the complete shit storm I’d wandered into.
“What last conversation?”
“Joshua. Predicting one of us would betray everyone. Wes got a little paranoid about it.” Once I’d started, I couldn’t stop myself. “Joshua attacked him all weekend. You didn’t notice that?”
“It would be terrific if we could deal with one conflict without you blaming Joshua for it. Seriously, just try to take some kind of ownership.”
“I’m not owning the fact that your roommate moved out. You don’t even know that. Maybe something happened this weekend back home and when he got back, he heard from his family.”
“Then why wouldn’t he tell me last night? He slept in his bed last night. We talked after lights-out. He didn’t say anything about contact from home.”
“Addison, we’re late for class —”
“I don’t care if we show up late for class. I don’t care if I go to class. They should have sat us down for some kind of conflict-resolution crap. We should have had to discuss it.” But talking it through wasn’t calming Addison down. His voice kept catching. He looked like he wanted to break something. Or break down.
He finally looked up. “I know he was upset about Joshua.” He paused miserably. “Joshua took a lot of cheap shots at him, I get that.” He raised his eyes to mine. “That’s just what he does — it’s his way of getting to know people.” Addison gazed around the room. His eyes watered. “Last night, Wes asked me how much I knew about Joshua and implied he was taking advantage of me. Of all of us.”
I couldn’t believe it. Wes really just said it outright. I tried to make sure my voice didn’t lean one way or the other. “What do you think about that?”
“Well, obviously I think it’s bullshit. You and I have been through this too. I get it, especially from the point of view of …” Addison searched for words and apparently decided to go with the very grandfatherly “… a young lady.” He nodded to me. “I understand bristling at Joshua’s more unconventional habits. But to accuse him of taking advantage when he’s devoting all this time to teaching us how to better ourselves, how to value ourselves — it’s completely unjustified.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Greer, he doesn’t even know how much time he has left and he has chosen to spend it with us. That sacrifice stuns me. And if there’s anything I can do to make his time more comfortable, I’m going to do it. And I’m not going to apologize for that choice. To anyone.”
“And that’s what you told Wes?”
“Basically.” He looked defensive. “So you’re going to tell me what? That I asked for this?”
“For what? You don’t know what’s going on yet. Maybe he just needs some time to sort it out.” But I knew then. I thought of how certain Wes had been the evening before. How resigned he looked when he’d left us on the sidewalk. He’d just cut his losses. It amazed me, briefly, to remember you could do that.
“What if he goes to the dean?” That’s what Addison had been worried about. I had felt so awful for Addison — Wes had rejected him. I’d thought he was hurt and embarrassed. Instead Addison worried more about getting in trouble or exposing Joshua to the dean.
But then he reached for my hand. “I don’t want any of us to end up sliding backward because of Wes. We’d be written up. We’d lose privileges. I don’t know if they’d let me stay. I can’t imagine not waking up every day and seeing you.”
“He wouldn’t tell anyone. And really, what would he say? That we watched movies and ate stir-fry? We took a hike and discussed the future.” It sounded better vague. “We could even say that Sophie had begged us to go back to the cabin before her parents threw out all her brother’s stuff. Sophie would say that, if we needed her to.”
Addison looked reassured, but then another dark storm crossed his face. “Or Wes could say we stayed in a cabin with little supervision. We slept, coed, in beds.” Addison pulled out his cell phone, flipped through pictures of us lounging on the sofa, laughing.
“That looks like wholesome fun to me.” I pointed at the phone as he tracked through photos. “No drugs, no alcohol.” I saw a shot of the brief poker game. “Okay, there was a little gambling, but nothing major. If he wanted to, he could make trouble, but I doubt it would be permanent trouble. I don’t even think he wants to. Wes is just really worried. He’s probably just trying to get a reaction from you.”
“He’d listen to you.”
My heart skidded and paused. “What?”
“If you asked him to leave it alone.”
“You don’t want me to do that, Addison.”
“Why? Why wouldn’t I want you to do that? You’d be asking him to keep his mouth shut for you too. You’d be protecting all of us.”
“For one thing, if he gets offended, he’s more likely to go to the dean. You know Wes. He’ll feel like we’re challenging him or something.”
“So don’t offend him. Just ask sweetly.”
“That’s what would bother him.”
“Please explain why it would bother him for his roommate’s girlfriend, with whom he’s fairly friendly, to ask him to refrain from informing the administration of rule infractions. Seriously. Unless he’s more than fairly friendly and he’d resent you asking anything on my behalf.”
Not long before, hearing Addison refer to me as his girlfriend would have counted as enough to counteract all the other crap. That charm had worn off a little bit. I found myself lashing out. “Because it wouldn’t be sincere. He’d know that and it would piss him off. And you’re not his roommate anymore. He knows what that means. This” — I waved around the half-emptied room — “makes it pretty obvious that Wes could care less about any of us.”
Addison looked like he was practicing his newly acquired anger-management skills. “I’m just asking you — I’m respectfully requesting that you at least let him know how disappointed you’d be if he turned us in. Just as a long shot —”
Just so you know where my loyalty lies. That’s how I should have finished up Addison’s sentence. Instead, I told him, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I love you. I’m sorry if I made this more complicated than that.” I knew that’s what Addison wanted to hear, and sure enough, he rewarded me with one of those hugs that made me feel swallowed up entirely, absolutely safe.
“You make everything more complicated.” He said it into my hair and sounded exasperated. “Greer, Greer — I need a beer.”
I punched him playfully. “That’s not even funny.”
“We just skipped class.”
I looked up at the standard-issue clock on the wall. Addison was right. “What are we going to do?”
“Go right to Dr. Rennie. And just tell him — my roommate moved out, abruptly. You were comforting me.”
“Let’s use a different word.”
“You were offering me peer counseling.”
I nodded. “It does sound better.”
He pulled me closer to him. “But you could comfort me first.”
“Not a chance. Let’s make sure we’re not thrown out before we start having rebellious sex all over the place.”
My parents might have been shocked at the effect that McCracken Hill had on me. Or else my mom would just kind of cluck her tongue and say, “Money well spent.” They’d never been able to scare me into being good at home. I mean, they yelled and grounded and took stuff away. After the shoplifting started, they left me in a couple of mall security offices to try to scare me straight. But it never really stuck. I mean, I knew they’d eventually stop yelling. The mall would close. They’d have to send someone to pick me up. But when they sent me away, that changed everything.
I missed my room. I missed watching TV and being able to work out whenever I wanted. I missed my laptop and my enormous bed and my closet full of clothes that didn’t make me look Amish. But most of all, I missed feeling like I had some kind of control. I hadn’t worked so hard to behave since I was a little kid. And now no one was here to actually care.
So I worried. About missing class, about being caught in the boys’ dorm. I made Addison get a move on and made sure to look like I was concerned about him, in case someone was monitoring the hallway security cameras. It took being sent to a school for screwups for me to realize I didn’t want to be a screwup anymore. People monitored you more closely when you tried to prove a point. Navigating the world was easier without a big target on my chest. When we stepped out of the dark corridor, I grabbed Addison’s hand. His didn’t feel as clammy as mine. I knew that missing class really didn’t register with him as worth worrying over. He had other things to preserve — Joshua’s access to campus, Joshua’s health, Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.
I knew too that I needed to test out Wes’s theory that most of McCracken was talk, after the initial shock of being there. That as long as I didn’t flaunt my hot boyfriend or resurrect my dormant eating disorder, I could pretty much get away with what I wanted. If Wes was right, it made the prospect of finishing up high school at McCracken a little more alluring. It gave me a little more control over my life.
We waited outside the classroom until everyone filed out. A couple of girls rolled their eyes and whispered. Some gonad named Gary gave Addison a congratulatory punch on the shoulder. Dr. Rennie caught me midcringe when he stepped out into the hallway and waved us into the room. “Was your weekend sojourn not enough of an adventure? Did you need to honeymoon through my class?”
At first, I panicked at his wording, but Dr. Rennie smiled wryly. “I’m so sorry,” Addison started. “Sir, I just stopped by my room to pick up books.”
“And you happened to discover your girlfriend? That is a dilemma.”
“No, sir. I didn’t even mean to go in his room.” Addison gave the slightest shake of his head. Apparently I shouldn’t have mentioned that part.
Dr. Rennie thumbed through a stack of papers on his desk. “I see. You were just walking by and you fell in.” Sometimes it’s hard not to wonder if adults don’t just create rules so that they can mock you when you break them.
“No, I —”
“Sir, I freaked out and called Greer over. She’d been waiting for me in the floor lounge.”
“Oh?”
We’d used the key phrase freaked out. Perhaps Dr. Rennie could claim he had steered Addison to an emotional breakthrough at the next faculty meeting.
“My roommate moved out.”
“The Wesley boy? He’s moved on from us, has he?”
“No, I don’t think he has,” Addison answered.
“Oh. I see.” Dr. Rennie held up the daily information bulletin. He traced over a list of names with his finger. “Well, he’s on this list. Everett accompanied you on your volunteer expedition. With the Narcotics Anonymous counselor?” He looked from Addison to me. “You all went. Did something occur? A falling-out?”
“No,” Addison said. Dr. Rennie turned to me.
“No, sir,” I answered. “We all got along fine. It just really took Addison by surprise and we talked it through a little. I’m sorry — it’s not that we don’t value your class.”
“Yes. Yes. You had to handle your feelings.” I couldn’t tell if Dr. Rennie was being sarcastic or not. “Well, this is a dilemma. I’m expected to report this to your academic dean. But I appreciate how you’ve handled this, coming right to see me. Understand, I’ll follow up, so if this is a tale, then you should bribe your roommate to begin packing on the double.” Dr. Rennie chortled and then suddenly grew serious. “But I suspect it’s not. You look far too dismayed. I encourage you to reach out to him. Perhaps give him a day or two to cool off if he appears angry for some reason. But otherwise, try to shake it off. The difficult aspect of an environment like this is that you young people, you’re all growing very fast. And some of you are growing at different rates. Occasionally friendships can’t quite keep up with that. Does that make sense?”
Addison and I both nodded. It made a lot of sense. And it was the most human conversation I’d had with a teacher since I arrived at McCracken Hill. Dr. Rennie actually seemed to care. “Thank you, sir.” Add said it first, so I just nodded.
“Hurry to lunch. I’d rather not see Greer have to explain a missed meal on top of everything else.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. We’ll get the notes from a classmate —”
“Don’t lie to me. None of you takes notes.” He turned back to his book and motioned for us to move along.
In the hallway, I felt my body gradually begin to unclench. “That wasn’t terrible,” I offered.
“Seriously. Rennie seems like a stand-up guy.”
I wanted to point out that he listened to us and let us explain like normal people. He alluded to our relationship without making crude sex jokes and he made us feel like worthwhile people without trying to convince us we had superhuman powers or some kind of epic adventure in our future. I couldn’t do that, of course, but I filed it away, to bring up if Addison ever seemed willing to listen.
He stopped at the cafeteria. “And he’s right. You can’t risk missing a meal right now. They’ll read all kinds of nonsense into that.”
“You won’t come in? You should — we’ll find Sophie and Jared and figure this out.”
“No!” Addison lunged at me. He grabbed my wrist and repeated, “No — listen, don’t say anything to any of them.” He loosened his grip and rubbed my arm with his other hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just — I don’t know how to handle this yet. I don’t want everyone to start talking smack.”
“Why don’t you just eat lunch with us, then?”
“I need to go call Joshua.” Of course. “I’ll see you later, I promise.” Addison kissed my cheek quickly and let go of my arm. He gently pushed me toward the dining hall. “Listen, if you see Wes, don’t antagonize him. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to ask him what’s going on. Say I’m really broken up over it, if you want. I couldn’t deal with coming to lunch.”
“Yeah, okay. Sure.”
“Great. Love you, angel. Seriously.” I knew he meant for me to notice he called me angel. I guess that was going to be our new code after the past weekend. Addison headed back toward the dorm. I watched him sprint off and wondered what he’d tell Joshua.
In the dining hall, I wasn’t sure who I’d sit with. A quick survey didn’t uncover Sophie or Jared. I edged my way painstakingly through the sandwich line and assembled a turkey-on-wheat masterpiece, trying to stall time until Sophie shimmied in. Still nothing. Right by the beverage station, I saw Hannah. She was sitting at a table with two girls named Allison who had, for the past month or so, slowly been morphing into the same person.
“Hannah. I’m so glad to see you.”
She beamed. “Me too! I miss you.” And then she kind of grimaced, like she had said the wrong thing. I watched her fade right in front of me.
“Seriously. I miss everyone,” I told her. “I’m going through withdrawal.” Four of Allison’s eyebrows shot up simultaneously. “Not literally.” Sometimes I forgot which things you couldn’t say at McCracken Hill. “Metaphorically.” Blank looks. “I’m not really withdrawing from anything.”
“Let me help you.” Hannah jumped out of her seat and took the glass of seltzer off my tray. “I know it’s hard when you have the shakes.”
I stared at her for a second and then noticed the slight upward curve of her lips. Seriously? Hannah Green had made a joke. A good joke. The Allisons stood up and fled in unison.
Later on, at dinner, I got assigned to a table by myself. Addison and Jared ate together. I hadn’t been able to spot Sophie or Hannah so I swung by Sophie’s room on the way back. Hannah was already stretched out on Sophie’s floor. Sophie sat at her computer, typing away.
“What’s going on?”
Hannah explained, “Sophia is opening up the healing lines of communication.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, shooting Sophie a look.
“Yeah,” Sophie replied. “I’m writing Josie.”
“Nice. Be sure to tell her about your bunk-bed boyfriend.”
“Wait — what?” Hannah sat straight up. “You and Jared?”
Sophie laughed. “Yes, zombie girl. Welcome to the land of the socially aware.” Hannah looked hurt, so I reached to ruffle her hair.
“Seriously? When did all this go on?” But as soon as she asked, Hannah cut herself off.
“Have you already forgotten your transformative time with Joshua?” I asked as a joke, but watched Hannah carefully. I don’t know what I was worried about. She just seemed so disconnected.
“I’m working hard to forget it, yes.” Hannah didn’t sound like she was joking.
“Whoa.” Sophie looked sharply at me, a little nervous about the venom in Hannah’s voice.
“I’m sorry if you felt shut out up there,” I said, “when you were alone with him.”
Hannah just shrugged. “You did it before we went up to the cabin.”
“Yes, she did,” Sophie said, blowing her own bangs out of her eyes. “That also icked me out. I’m glad you two have sufficiently proven your trust. Next time, no one has to sleep on their own.”
“You might still have to. It’s just you who hasn’t,” Hannah pointed out.
Sophie looked surprised as she considered that. “I doubt it. I bet I make Joshua too nervous. It might qualify as a trust exercise for him.”
“He can’t transform you if you don’t do it,” Hannah declared breezily.
I didn’t know how to react to that one. Sophie just rolled with it. “Then I guess I’ll have to schedule him in.”
“Jared …” I encouraged, hoping she’d give up the details.
“… is acting really different since we got back to campus.”
“No, seriously?” It hadn’t looked like a random hookup.
“I don’t know,” she said. I could tell it mattered to her because she made herself so busy picking at a pulled thread on the carpet that she couldn’t look Hannah or me in the eye. “Maybe it was just one of those things that only fits a particular context. We were up there and it felt right. Maybe we’re back here and it feels wrong. To him. We’ll see. It’s still early and we heard so much crazy crap up there. Maybe Jared is still processing.”
“He strikes me as a slow processor,” Hannah said, and it made me laugh out loud. “What?” she asked, mystified.
“That’s just the kindest way I’ve ever heard to say someone isn’t so bright.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I consider Jared very bright,” Hannah told us. “Especially about people and feelings.”
“Just not today. Just not my feelings,” Sophie pointed out, and Hannah and I moved in to hold her hand, her shoulders. “Thanks, ladies.” Sophie sounded like she meant it. “I really needed company tonight to remind me not to take it all so seriously.”
No one mentioned Wes. I thought for sure that Hannah would bring him up, but she didn’t. I wondered if Sophie knew anything about his move, but I didn’t want to give anything away. Besides, if I brought it up out of nowhere, even Hannah would have to pick up on the fact that something was wrong.
Instead everyone acted as if he was already gone.
He wasn’t really gone, though. He’d just moved to Freewill Hall. I found him the next morning at breakfast. Or maybe because he knew Addison would be weight lifting with Jared, Wes found me.
“How’s the war, doll face?” He sidled up to me in line and spoke out of the corner his mouth, like an actor in a black-and-white movie.
“Can we sit together?” It was such a relief to see him.
He answered calmly, “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I’m supposed to talk to you anyway.”
“Oh yeah, Joshua’s appointed you ambassador to the free world?”
I laughed, but it didn’t sound like a real laugh. It sounded like a frightened hiccup. “Addison asked me to talk to you,” I explained.
Wes’s face seemed to freeze over. “We can sit, but I don’t think we have a lot to talk about, Greer. I want to tell you good luck, I guess. If you ever need someone who hasn’t been sucked in by a religious cult, well then, I’m your guy.” He smiled ruefully. “But otherwise, I’m out. Seriously.”
“We’re a group of friends. Not a religious cult.”
“You’re smarter than that. And you lie badly. You’re freaked out. And if I can see it, they can see it. And then what’ll happen?”
“There’s nothing religious about what we do. Maybe it’s spiritual, but everything about this place is supposed to be spiritual. Even the whole twelve-step thing — give yourself over to a higher power —”
“Does Joshua often refer to scripture, twisting accepted religious philosophy to fit his selfish goals? Has he tried to convince you that the group faces an unseen enemy who would disrupt a way of life you treasure? Does he emotionally manipulate members of the group? Cross physical boundaries that make members uncomfortable? Does he dictate sexual practices?”
I felt like hitting Wes. “He does not,” I hissed at him, worried that someone might overhear us. “Joshua’s never touched me like that.”
“No, he just ordered Addison to.”
“You’re sick.”
“Deep down, you’re worried that I’m right.”
“You never bought into it. Any of it.”
“Do you hear yourself? You sound like one of those Mormon girls whose husbands have thirteen other wives. Addison’s a great guy. You know I see that. But that doesn’t mean he’s worth dealing with Joshua.”
“You’ve never felt comfortable around Joshua.” Neither did I, but I wasn’t going to admit that out loud.
“Come on, now. Joshua’s never felt comfortable around me.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Up in the Poconos, Joshua had seemed to enjoy needling him. Picking on him and then isolating him.
“Why do you think Joshua has never acted comfortable around me, Greer?”
I blinked. He waited. I blinked again.
“Seriously?” he asked incredulously. “Greer, it’s that I’m black.”
I sat back. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Of course it does. You really don’t get it, do you? Greer, you all are seriously clueless. Joshua makes you pay for food. He moves into Sophie’s house. He has Hannah sleep in his bed. You’re not an idiot. You have to have some measure of self-preservation. Why don’t you speak up?
“I know he stayed over in your room. And I can’t imagine that didn’t freak you the hell out. So what did Joshua say when you didn’t hop to it?”
I bit my lip. “He implied that maybe it was because he was black.”
Wes slammed his hand on his food tray. The milk in his cereal bowl sloshed. “Exactly!” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You can tell me, Greer. Honestly. Did you not want Joshua sleeping in your bed because he’s black?”
“No. I didn’t want him in my bed because he’s old. And kind of creepy.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Wes rubbed his head. “I try to keep an open mind, but sometimes you white kids are so stupid. You’re so afraid of being called racist. That’s the worst thing in the world, right? So you’d rather have a slumber party with some crazy homeless guy than have him suggest that you don’t like black people.”
“First off, he’s not homeless.”
“Have you seen where he lives? Has Addison?” I shook my head. “Dude’s homeless.”
“Even if that worked on me or Hannah — I’m just saying — if it did … hit some kind of nerve — it wouldn’t work on Addison. He just doesn’t worry about what people believe about him. He lives out his sense of integrity. He always says that.”
“People who are actually confident don’t walk around talking about how confident they are. I know you get that.” I sat still. Silent and thinking. Wes kept pushing. “Why do you think Joshua starts off every story about meeting Addison by describing him as a skinhead? Like before Joshua showed up and taught him otherwise, Addison was eating Special KKK for breakfast? Addison doesn’t even remember most of the past few years. That was one extended alcoholic blackout. His biggest fear is that he’s secretly some raging monster. So Joshua convinces him that he’s the only thing harnessing that monster.”
“You’ve spent so much time thinking about this.”
“Well, it’s not like the asshole was going to let me speak or anything. So I watched.”
“But it doesn’t matter what you saw. Or what you say. You left. So now Joshua gets to be the wise mentor and you join the line of people who’ve betrayed Addison.” Wes nodded sadly, but he didn’t say anything. “That’s it? You’re not even going to defend yourself?”
“I don’t have to defend myself. I don’t want to sit around hearing about how useless I am and watching my friends plan a war against vegetarians. Most people would call that a healthy choice on my part.”
“It’s a metaphor!”
“But it’s not. You say that because that’s how you’ve decided to make it okay. But Joshua does not mean it symbolically. He means there’s going to be a war. He’s alluding to you killing people because they won’t eat meat. That’s, like, schizophrenic behavior.”
“What changed between last night and this morning?” I asked Wes. When he grimaced, I knew I was onto something. “Something happened. Because last night you wanted to confront Addison, right? You decided we needed to go to the administration because the whole Joshua thing was interfering with his progress, his recovery. You have to know that if you leave, he’ll just get closer to Joshua. I mean, I can’t even get through to him now. You didn’t give me any time to figure it out either. Or a heads-up. You just left. Which means you must have requested a transfer as soon as you woke up and you must have been convincing or the administration would have tried conflict resolution.”
Wes played with his plastic fork. He twirled it in his fingers. He seemed to be making up his mind about something.
“I think you owe me an explanation.”
“Yeah? I don’t owe you shit, Greer.” But his voice softened a little. “But I do wish you’d stay the hell away from that crazy mofo, so I’m going to show you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He skipped it across the table to me. “Go on. Check how Mr. Integrity spends his computer lab sessions.” I unfolded it slowly. “For the record, I moved out to light a fire under his ass. We talked the night before. I tried to get him to actually look closely at the whole Joshua dynamic, but he wouldn’t even go near it. I figured, maybe if he wakes up and his world is a little different, that might get him thinking. I care about Addison.”
Wes looked pained enough that I believed him. He said, “But we’re going to go home, go back to our real lives. I’m not like the rest of you, pretending we’ll all end up living together on some happy little commune. I’d rather piss Addison off and know in the long run he’s going to be okay. Or at least that’s how I felt before he left that picture on my bed.”
I looked down and saw a close-up Wes, intensely studying the cards in his hand during the poker-for-Cheerios game at the cabin.
“Well, this isn’t such a shocker, right?” I said. “I mean, we all knew you guys were playing cards.”
“Yeah, we did. And I felt crappy enough about it then. Now imagine what happens when the deans see something like this. Or my parents.”
“It’s in a residential house, though. You’re sitting at a dining room table. We’d all get in just as much trouble for just being in Sophie’s house.”
“That’s the point.”
I still didn’t see it. I was looking from the wrong angle. “They won’t show it to anyone. Unless —” Wes prompted.
“Unless you go to someone in the administration about Joshua or the cabin.”
“Exactly.” I felt sick all over again. Wes stood up. “So, listen, I’m out. Addison no longer exists to me. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he saw this coming down the pike. I don’t remember Addison pulling out his camera to capture golden moments from the rest of the weekend. He pulled out the deck of cards with one hand and the camera with the other.”
“That doesn’t make sense. How would he possibly know that you’d confront him about Joshua?”
“It’s called insurance, Greer. And I don’t think Addison’s devious enough to go planning something like that. Joshua thought of it. Addison just got it done.” Wes took a deep breath. He looked down and spoke really carefully to me. “You think I’m crazy. They’re calling you an angel and preparing to bomb Trader Joe’s or something, but I’m some kind of head case. I get it. I’m asking you to be careful, Greer. Because if they turned on me, they can turn on you. But in the meantime, as long as you’re with Addison — and as long as Addison’s with Joshua Stern — well then, I want you to stay the hell away from me.”
Wes glanced at the door, like he was making sure he had a clear exit out. “You understand?”
“I got it.” He nodded and turned to head out. “Wes.” I spoke low, not wanting to have everyone in the dining hall writing about us in their daily growth journals or something. He stopped, but didn’t turn around. I felt immensely lonely. “Take care of yourself,” I told him. He walked out without looking back.