Page 105 of The Roommate Lie

“There’s even a new farm,” she weeps. “In an enchanted forest inhabited by gnomes.Gnomes.” Her voice drops to a desperate whisper. “They help you garden.With magic.”

There’s probably more to this crying spell than a video game. Nicki is a lot like my sister, Roxie—the Roscoe with the hardest shell—and I’ve only seen her cry like this once. Uncontrollable sobs of agony that lasted for hours. It was after she’d taken care of my dad while he was in hospice, organized his entire funeral (because he made her promise she wouldn’t let our mom help), and made it through the memorial service without shedding a single tear.

Then she dropped her favorite paperback in the bathtub three days later, and it wasthe end of the world.

Alice told me last night her sister hasn’t gotten upset about anything that’s happened. She hasn’t shed a single tear about her eyesight or her husband. But today, the floodgates are open, as if she’s held back months of rainstorms so she could unleash a monsoon. About virtual gnomes.

“Should I call Alice?” Her phone is still MIA, but she gave me their mom’s number just in case.

Nicki panics, waving her hands. “No—please—they can’t see me like this. I’m fine. Really. Totally fine.”

She forces a smile, and it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Then she bursts into tears again, while still trying to smile, and nope.That’sthe saddest thing I’ve ever seen.

I know how to fix this. Enable the accessibility options on her laptop, show her how to use them, and then find mods for her game to make it easier—it won’t even be hard. But it’s going to take a lot longer than the thirty seconds I’ve got before I need to leave.

Nicki tries to tell me it’s fine, but she’s crying even harder now, and I can’t tell if staying to help her is the right decision. Maybe I’m self-sabotaging. Maybe I’ve been worried about this interview all week, and I’m looking for an out.

But what if that isn’t it?

I don’t know which choice is the right one. All I know is Alice’s sister is upset. If I leave now, and it’s the wrong decision, I’ll never forgive myself.

I text Principal Sutter, message an apology to my mom, and then I glance at Nicki.

“Why don’t we go downstairs and see if we can figure this out? I might have a few ideas.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

ALICE

“I don’t like him.”

I ignore Emma and try to stay focused. I’ve made it all the way up to the observation deck on Four Pines Peak without passing out—hands on the guardrail, eyes closed—and I’m going to finish making this Edna wish if it kills me.I didn’t come up here for nothing.

It isn’t the same wish as last time; this one isn’t for me. The wish I’m trying to make today is about Charlie and that interview he’s been so nervous about, the one he’s at right now. Keeping my eyes pressed shut, I picture him as the new kindergarten teacher at Ponderosa Elementary, his big dream finally coming true. I picture him happy and getting the life he wants, even if that life doesn’t include me.

“I don’t like him,” Emma repeats as I open my eyes, and I sigh.

“He’s been nothing but nice to me—and you. What’s not to like?”

That man single-handedly saved my entire trip to Ponderosa Falls. He turned a horrible situation into something I’ll alwayscherish, and he’s taken such good care of me. He takes such good care of everyone.

He wasn’t even mean to Emma when she got all weird at breakfast. Seriously—what’s not to like about Charlie Roscoe?

“He’s rough around the edges,” she says, and I give her a sideways glance.

Maybe Emma was America’s favorite ice princess a few years ago at the Olympics, but she’s not dating another figure skater. Her boyfriend is a hockey player who’d rather punch than talk, and he’s broken up with her multiple times. If she thinks Charlie has rough edges, what does Royce have?

She can see it in my eyes, exactly what I’m thinking, and Emma scowls. “He has a bad reputation,” she says, keeping her focus on Charlie. “I heard people talking at lunch.”

“He had a rough childhood, but he turned things around a long time ago.”

“People who get in that much trouble when they’re younger don’t just turn things around.”

I have a million responses, and every single one is a spirited defense of Charlie. But I never get the chance. My mom defends him first.

“Well”—she scrunches her face, looking almost sheepish—“I wouldn’t say nobodyeverturns things around.”

Emma gets ready to charge back into battle, but when she glances at my dad for backup, his face is scrunched too. Though whatever that look is he’s giving us, I don’t think you could call it sheepish.

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