Page 40 of All Your Pucking Secrets

11

ECHO

I’m sprawled on my bed, my head propped on one hand as I work through our assigned reading for Social Psychology when there’s a knock on the door. Frowning, I check the time.

Martina wouldn’t be knocking, and Anita is in class right now. Cassie would breeze right inside, not even realizing she might be disturbing someone, and Ryan rarely visits my dorm. So who is it?

Perhaps one of Martina’s admirers. Honestly, I’m just glad she rarely brings them back here. I don’t know where they go instead, but I appreciate her thoughtfulness. I don’t like having men in my space.

I get up and cautiously approach the door. I look through the peephole. It’s a guy I don’t recognize. I open the door, but not widely. No need to make him think he’s welcome to linger.

The guy is probably a couple of years younger than me, with enormous muscles and a baby face that’s at odds with the rest of him. He’s carrying a cardboard box that’s been sealed with thick tape.

“This is for you.” He tries to hand me the box. When I don’t take it, he awkwardly hovers there with his arms outstretched.

“I think you’ve got the wrong room,” I tell him.

He draws back and glances at the number on the door. “I’m pretty sure this is the right one. Are you Echo?”

“Yes.” I narrow the opening between the door and the frame, my anxiety growing. What is this about?

He looks relieved. “I thought so. He said you’d be the petite brunette, and that the curvy blonde is your roommate.”

Lead lines my stomach. “Who is ‘he’?”

I have a sinking feeling I know the answer.

“Oh.” His cheeks turn pink. “Um. Yep. He said if you asked that, to say he was your fairy godmother. Could you just take this please?”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

His face falls. “I promise it’s something good.”

“Like what?”

He doesn’t answer, leading me to believe he doesn’t actually have any idea what’s inside the box.

“Do me a favor, Echo?” His tone has become pleading. “If you don’t take it, he won’t put in a good word for me with Coach.”

I’m tempted to ask why that’s my problem, but I don’t have the heart to upset this guy. He reminds me too much of a golden retriever. I stare at the box, as if glaring hard enough might give me x-ray vision to see what lies inside.

“Pretty, pretty please?” he begs.

“Fine,” I huff. “Give it here.”

If worst comes to worst, I can toss whatever is inside in the dumpster out back, or add it to the growing collection of things I need to rehome thanks to Tyler.

He passes it off quickly, no doubt in case I have second thoughts. “You’re the best. I owe you.”

“Uh-huh.” I shut the door in his face and lock it, then I carry the box, which is heavier than I expected, to my bed. I find a pair of scissors at my desk and slice open the tape on top of the box. I pull the cardboard apart and peer inside.

All I see is bubble wrap. It’s oddly disappointing.

I remove the bubble wrap. Beneath it, the box is filled with pale green packing peanuts—the biodegradable type. I’m somewhat nervous to reach inside. I’m not sure what I think is in there. The possibility of a snake hiding within crosses my mind, but even I know that’s ridiculous.

I’m being paranoid. I’m sure this is another weird attempt at romancing me. Or perhaps a guilt gift. Or…I don’t even know what.

Irritated with myself for delaying, I empty the box upside down onto my bed. I shriek as several colorful silicon items and two boxes land in a pile in the center, the packing peanuts scattering around them.

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