Page 19 of Nobody in Particular

“Are you okay?” Rose’s voice asks in my ear, and it’s only then I figure out she’s the one who has her arms around me. I feel like all the breath’s gone from my lungs, so I don’t have it in me to reply. I nod, though, and once I do, Rose turns to the student that fell. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to run in the rain?” she snaps. “Are you trying to kill someone?”

The guy, who’s leaning against the barrier and rubbing his leg, starts apologizing to me on repeat. Even though he’s talking to me, he keeps turning back to Rose like he thinks she’s gonna send him to jail or something.

Eleanor hovers above us. “Ahh, it was just an accident, Rose,” she says, holding out a hand to help her back up. “No harm done.”

I take in a shaky breath. I don’t bother pointing out that I’m pretty sure a lot of harm would’ve been done if Rose hadn’t caught me. “Thank you,” I say to Rose as I get up, and she gives me a short nod. I guess I inconvenienced her by making her save my ass.

Molly hurries back down the steps to us, fighting the mob of students weaving around the accident scene to get to their seats. “Shit, that was close,” Molly says, which I think is her way of checking I’m okay. I start climbing the stairs again, but this time, I hold nice and tight onto the handrail.

Molly waves her phone in the air and looks back at Rose. “You’ll be happy to know I got that whole save on camera. Live,” she says in a pointed tone. “That made you look like a hero. Your parents should be thrilled.”

“Well, good. I wouldn’t have bothered, otherwise,” Rose says dryly.

Smack in the middle of the bleachers, two rows have a decent chunk of empty space left free. At first, I think maybe there’s something wrong with that spot, but then when we start climbing over already-seated students to make our way over to the empty area, I realize it’s been saved for us. Florence and Harriet are sitting there already, along with a whole bunch of Ashford guys.

“Which one’s Santi?” I ask Eleanor, while we’re still far away enough for it to be a private conversation.

“Oh, he’s down there,” she says, pointing toward the base of the bleachers.

“Are you going to go talk to him?”

“No. I’m going to look at his hair.” She beams. “A whole afternoon of looking at his hair. Pinch me.”

I don’t.

Between Alfie—another person I met for half a second at Molly’s party—and Harriet is a free spot. Harriet notices me and straightens, waving her arm around to flag me down. I really did figure she was only being nice to me because she’s my RA, but maybe she counts as a friend after all. She points at the empty space, but at the exact same time Alfie waves at Rose and points to the same spot. I’m about to tell Rose she can have it—I figure I owe her—when Alfie shuffles over and suddenly there’s just enough room for us to sit side by side. The bench is speckled with rainwater, and Harriet uses her bare hand to flick some of it off for me.

“Did someone fall before?” Harriet asks me as I sit. “That’s what it sounded like.”

“Rupert Mathers,” Rose answers for me, scowling. “Practically bowled us over on his way down, too.”

Rose turns to Alfie now, and the two of them talk so quietly I can’t eavesdrop at first. Then, Alfie says—loud enough for me to make out—“Sorry, I’m in a bad mood, I think. It’s just weird to be here withouthim,you know?”

Him. Oscar? I guess he would’ve been with the Ashford guys today, if he was still alive. Probably in this exact group.

Rose purses her lips so tightly they almost vanish. Then she sucks in a breath, and I concentrate, hoping to catch what she has to say about Oscar.

“I can’t imagine signing up for the rugby team, knowing practice starts during the school holidays,” she says. “I don’t know why they can’t just start the season a bit later.”

It’s such a bizarre response to somebody obviously looking forconnection that I almost wonder if I heard her wrong, or if it’s code for something. But no, I don’t think it is, because Alfie is giving her a disappointed look. “Yeah, it seems like a lot to ask of the team,” he says finally, and that’s the end of that topic, I guess.

I wonder if this is what Molly was referring to, when she said Rose doesn’t care about anybody? Speaking of Molly, if Alfie is missing Oscar, she must be, too. Is there anything I can do to look out for her? I check on her, but she’s totally wrapped up in speaking to the camera. Maybe it’s a distraction she needs right now.

When the game kicks off, I focus on it for the first ten minutes or so. At least, until I realize I have no freaking idea what is happening. There don’t seem to be any rules, except for everyone to attack the guy with the ball before he can take more than two steps.

“Do you understand the game?” Harriet asks, like she’s read my mind. I jump, and shake my head. “Okay, well, it’s simple. There are four different ways you can score points, and they’re worth different amounts. First, you’ve got what’s called a try.…”

It turns out the only thing less fun than watching a game I don’t understand is watching a game I don’t understand while someone rattles off the entire rule book to me. I don’t have the heart to beg Harriet to give it a rest, though—especially not after she’s gone out of her way to be nice to me—so I let her drone on, nodding every now and then while I silently will time to speed up.

I’m snapped out of hypnosis when—I think—the first point is scored, though I’m not sure which of the four types it is. All I know is the crowd’s exploded into cheering and stamping, so enthusiastically the seats are vibrating.

“Hell yeah, Oliver,” Molly, who’s restarted her livestream, cries behind me while she waves her phone around. “You always come through for us!”

Everyone’s gotten to their feet and broken into song—a kind of cheerleading chant about the other team “trying to try” I’ve never heard before. I scramble up to join them, but I’m just as out of place standing as I was sitting.

To my left, Harriet bellows the chant loud and clear while lookingat me—I guess this is her way of teaching me the lyrics. To my right, Rose is silent. When she catches me looking at her, she lifts the small green-and-gold flag Alfie passed her when we sat down and gives it a half-hearted wave, doing her best to look as unenthusiastic as humanly possible. I can’t help giggling, and she breaks at that, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

It’s the first time I can think of that she’s looked at me like we’re on the same level. She’s not teasing me, or patronizing me, or challenging me. It does something to her face: changes her type of pretty from intimidating to approachable in an instant. I’d actually go as far as to call this particular smile kind of adorable. Enough that it makes my stomach flip in a way that catches me off guard.

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