Page 246 of Burn Bright
It should be heartening knowingtheRose Calloway and Connor Cobalt are his parents. Surelygodswill be able to locate their son. But I think Ben knew exactly who he was trying to fool. He knew he had to outwit his cunning family.
I’m more and more afraid he’s succeeding.
Still, I try not to wallow. Rose tells me, “Chin up. Shoulders back. Imagine the whole auditorium is full of idiots and you’re the only smart one,” the morning of my Ovid presentation. The pep talk and ego-boost are appreciated.
Xander and I practiced for hours together in his apartment, so we should be fine. Totally fine. No hives.
Just a really heavy heart.
“Where’s Ben?” Professor Wellington asks as Xander and I approach the podium. His white brows knit together. He seems genuinely puzzled why a student would miss their final presentation.
Xander pushes away the mic, then whispers to Professor Wellington, “Ben’s not coming.”
He lets out a disappointed sigh. “Well, that’s too bad. He was doing very well.”
“He’ll be back,” I pipe in. “It’s a stomach bug. Can he do a make up? Like maybe an extra essay to weigh against the zero?”
Xander gives me a soft look, then nods to the professor. “He was puking all night. They’re giving him an IV drip in his apartment—our family has doctors on call. I’m his cousin, which you might not know because you likely don’t read tabloids, and why am I saying this?” Xander shakes his head at himself and accidentally makes eye contact with several girls in the second row.
They audibly gasp and shriek.
Professor Wellington just smiles. “Ah, I remember Ben telling me you’re his cousin.” I’m not at all surprised Ben chatted with our ancient professor. “I’ll go over extra credit opportunities with him when he returns to class. And don’t forget, there’s still the final exam next week.”
It might beextremewishful thinking that Ben will be here for finals, but I can’t reject the idea of him coming back. I’m not sure how he will yet. Maybe he’s knee-deep in snow and he’ll be afraid of frostbite, so he’ll return to civilization. Okay, this might sound like somethingIwould fear and do, but I imagine different scenarios where Ben decides he needs to be in New York.
If he shows up, he needs a chance to complete the semester without failing, and I feel good knowing Xander and I can give him that.
Professor Wellington waves us to the podium. “You two can carry on.”
Carry on.
As if it’s so easy to do without him.
One foot in front of the other, Fisher.Is his voice going to be in my head from now on? Don’t fucking cry. I blow out an uneven breath. Xander sidles next to me and tips his head down to mine. “We’ve got this,” he whispers to me, his voice shaking just a little. “Fuck.”
“We can do this, Paul Atreides,” I whisper back, straightening the index cards in my hand. “Just imagine they’re all idiots and we’re the only smart ones.”
He chokes on a laugh. “That’s such a Cobalt trick.” Xander is shying from the obsessive eyes and the phones raised at him. “I’d do anything to get through this, even pretend I’m a genius for ten minutes.” He has another stack of flashcards. “You ready?”
I nod him on.
He twists the mic toward us. “This thing work?—?”
The gasps and squeals have the professor shushing half the lecture hall. This is the first time they’ve heard Xander Hale speak in person.
“That’d be a yes,” he mutters, backing away from the mic like it’s a bomb.
I step forward and take a shallow breath, the mic crackling. The auditorium falls hushed, and I dip forward to speak. And then my voice cages in my lungs for an unbearable moment. I’ve practiced this opening line a thousand times with Xander. It’s Latin from Ovid’sMetamorphoses.
Before I even say a thing, the words plunge into the depth of me. I look around, and the auditorium is empty in my mind. I just see Ben in the middle row. I see his lips crawling up into a radiant smile. I see his baby blue eyes glittering with the same effervescence.
I see Eternal Spring that will last through the ages.
“Omnia mutantur, nihil interit,” I say quietly into the mic. “Everything changes, nothing perishes.”
56
HARRIET FISHER
