Page 121 of Let It Be Me

What’s this? I try to remember what the hell I committed myself to this time. Oh, right; food science club. It’s the first meeting of the fall semester, and we’re supposed to be discussing the student-run food festival happening in September.

Get picked up by Bree in her new luxury vehicle and then attend a meeting of overachievers where I’m the only student who hasn’t been in food science club since freshman year? Not interested.

Ruby: I think I need to skip it.

Bree: You can’t! Hardly anyone will be there, we need numbers. And I wouldn’t piss Wythe off this early in the semester.

The reminder of Professor Wythe is what gets me. She’ll notice if I’m not at this meeting I promised I’d be part of, that I wanted to be part of not long ago.

Ruby: What time?

Bree slidesher black sunglasses down her nose to look at me when I get in the car. “Have you been partying since summer semester ended?” She studies me.

“No, why?”

“You look ... different.” Then, a little too brightly, she adds, “Like you’ve been having fun.”

“I haven’t.” I put my own sunglasses on. “I haven’t really done anything since the last time I saw you.” I know I don’t look great—hydration, nutrition, and fresh air haven’t been priorities lately. I basically sleep, scroll social media, and do homework. “What about you? Looks like life is good.”

She has a convoluted story about why her parents gifted her a $70K luxury SUV when her birthday is eight months away, which tells me she’s at least partially embarrassed. So I don’t ask too many questions and I tell her it’s a beautiful car and that I’m jealous, which is true. We all have our stories.

Professor Wythe looks briefly surprised when I walk in, but she smiles and watches Bree introduce me to the other students there. I recognize most of them from various shared classes, and I feel guilty I don’t know their names.

“Let’s get started,” Wythe tells us, and we all take seats. Her energy is different here, a little less intimidating. She glances at her watch. “We’re waiting for one more student who volunteered to photograph the festival for us, but for now let’s get down to business.”

We go over last year’s schedule of events, Wythe doing a brief pros-and-cons rundown of each before we weigh in on what to repeat and what to scrap for this year’s event.

When the door opens, Wythe stops to beam at the new arrival. I turn around to see. It’s Alli.

My jaw hangs open as I watch her wave at Wythe and make her way to an empty seat, her chin held high. It feels personal, like she’s here just for me, which of course she isn’t. She’s the one who volunteered to photograph the festival, which I realize only a few minutes later when Wythe introduces her to the room as “an immensely talented photography student who we’re lucky to have helping us.” Luck? Is that what it is?

After the introduction, Alli gives a little smile and nods to each of us in turn. If I had any sense of humor in the moment, I’dlaugh at the way her expression morphs when her eyes land on me, all pretense of friendliness and charm dropping away. Bree nudges me, catching the change, but I can’t acknowledge her because I’m too busy wondering why the universe hates me.

Of course this is where Alli has to find me. Stumbling around, trying to figure out what this club is about and where I fit in, unsure what I’m supposed to be doing, nothing to contribute except questions that betray my ignorance. And Alli, as much a newcomer to this group as I am, is the golden girl gracing us with her inspiring generosity and glittering talent.

Actually, as it turns out, she graces the rest of the group. When it’s her turn to deal with me, she’s a bitch like I’ve never seen before. It starts when I suggest we put on a cooking demonstration at the festival and I catch her sneer, like this idea is comically stupid. Then comes the eye roll when I ask about designing T-shirts for the event. I push it away. Alli has a remarkably expressive face, and she’s never been great at hiding her contempt for me. She snaps a few photos as we sit around, and the way she eyes me over the top of her camera after the shutter clicks nearby tells me she secured a horribly unflattering picture of me. But near the end of the meeting, when Wythe discovers Alli and I know each other, Alli abandons subtlety altogether.

“Allison, you and Ruby should coordinate after the fair,” Wythe suggests once we’re trapped in conversation, apparently mistaking our familiarity for friendship. “Ruby volunteered to do our social media this year, so your photos can go to her.”

Alli offers a pretty smile. “That could work ... if she’s still in the club by then.” She slides her gaze to me. “Ruby’s not exactly known for her long-term commitment.”

Wythe cocks her head, and I can tell she’s confused about our relationship, because who but the best of friends would make a comment like that? But I’m not laughing. I’m quietly seething.

Minutes later Wythe makes a few brief closing remarks, and everyone heads out. I should just let it go and be glad the meeting is over. Instead, I walk out the door behind Alli.

I watch her move gracefully down the hallway, burning, the words I want to spit at her clawing at me. Icancontrol myself. After all, I made it through Lorenzo’s yearlong relationship with Alli without ever going off on her. But then I think,Why?I only did that for Lorenzo.

“Hey,” I shout curtly. The acrid sound of my voice surprises and embarrasses me. I would have preferred to be cool and condescending in confronting Alli. But she starts and turns around, no hint of grace left on her face, and I’m glad for the way it came out.

“What?” she says when she sees it’s only me. Nothing to worry about.

I take my time catching up to her.

“What?” she says again as we square off.

Students edge past us in both directions, but I make no attempt to be inconspicuous. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Lorenzo wasn’t in the room with us that entire meeting.”

She pulls a face. “Excuse me?”

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