Page 62 of Come As You Are

But where in there do I fit? The girl who isn’t nice enough or fierce enough or compelling enough or just simplyenough—

“Evie! You have to—”

Or smart enough to secure a fucking rope ladderis my last thought before I hit the ground and everything goes black.

What follows is total chaos that, between pain, drugs, and exhaustion, passes in a blur. By the time I wake up in the infirmary, the sun is high in the sky, my ankle is on ice and elevated, and all at once, the previous night floods back in a humiliating rush.

“Oh, thank fuck you’re up,” Sabrina says on an exhale, jumping up to peer into my eyes. “Are you okay? Do you know who you are?”

“Jesus, Sabrina, yes, I’m fine, thank you. At least I think I’m fine. How long have I been out?”

“A while, but some of that was the doctors keeping you out to deal with your ankle. Turns out it’s only a sprain, but they were worried it was dislocated.” She points to the corner of the room, where a pair of silver crutches stand. “You’ll have to be on those for a bit. Good thing you already have an accessible room, right?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not that long—the doctors came in about ten minutes ago, which is the only reason I know anything. Salem had to get to class—he has a quiz—so he asked me to take over. No one gives a crap if I miss art.”

“Salem was here?”

“Wow, you really have been out,” she says with a tip of her head. “Salem’s the one who found you. Said he heard a thump outside that woke him up, and realized you’d fallen out of your window. Which raises the obvious question: What the hell were you doing falling out of your window?”

I register a whole lot of things at once, most importantly that this is the story we’re going with in order to keep Salem, me,andMatt out of trouble. And that’s fine with me—the last thing I need is anyone knowing where I really was last night. But I guess this is an element of the story Salem couldn’t make up for me, which means I have to come up with something believable, fast.

And it’s Sabrina, who, against whatever odds, has become my best friend at this school other than Salem, so I give her the truth. Well, most of it anyway.

The parts that don’t involve her brother and my realizing I’ve got a heinous crush on him, specifically.

When I’m done, Sabrina gives me a hug, and fills me in on this morning and the news spreading around campus. Apparently, some people think I was trying to off myself, which is just sad. Others think I was meeting someone outside, which is mostly funny, considering my access to tens of guys within my own dorm. To everyone, I’m pretty much that deranged klutz who fell out of her first-story window.

It’s all not great.

The nurse comes in and gives me the rundown of my care, tells me I’ll be staying there for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours so I can be monitored for a concussion and stay off my ankle until my parents pick me up to bring me to a specialist. Honestly, hiding away for a day or two sounds so good, I think they might expect a protest from me, but they don’t get one.

Then they tell me the dormmate who found me will be coming back later with my clothes, toothbrush, and whatever else I need.

Which means I have just a few hours to figure out how to talk to Salem again.

Sabrina leaves for her next class, telling me Heather plans to visit later, and I plaster a smile on my face as if that doesn’t make me want to put all my weight on my ankle right now just to black out again. I don’t have my phone or laptop or even a deck of cards, but I’m still plenty exhausted from last night, and woozy from what I assume are pain meds, so I let my eyelids flutter shut and hope I’ll just sleep through Heather’s visit.

When I wake up, Salem’s sitting in Sabrina’s seat.

“Hey,” he says, so softly I don’t even have a second to convince myself my feelings aren’t real. “You feeling any better?”

“Depends.” At the sound of my dry, raspy voice, Salem pours me a cup of water from the little plastic pitcher on the nightstand, and I take a sip before continuing. “Has ‘the Klutzy Slut’ caught on as a nickname for me yet?”

“It’s still being workshopped.”

“Oh, good.” I struggle to sit up, and Salem reaches out to help me, then thinks better of it and lets me do it alone. “I guess you guys got the ladder back up in time.”

“Yeah.” I expect a snarky follow-up, but none comes. He just looks… drained. “Fuck, Evie,” he mutters. “You fell out mywindow.I don’t know what I did, but—”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, and this time, I’m the one to grab his arm, even though I know I’ll regret it. “You were really, really nice to listen to me last night. This is all me. Crazy Evie,” I add through gritted teeth.

“You’re not crazy.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I am. It wouldn’t be a brand-new nickname, even.”

He clicks his stubble-shaded jaw. “Ableism is shitty. And I’m guessing so’s your sister. Or your ex. Or both.”

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