Sebastian nods and he starts the interview process. He’s all professionalism, and I focus on the answers, pushing away Bryce from my mind, as I talk about the strangeness of being back where it all began.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Sebastian
Bryce hasn’t recognized me.
He’s still a huge jerk, and it’s strange to listen to him as an adult, to see his charm and to see how quickly others become disillusioned with him.
I hate that he’s working here. I hate that he’s still strolling around these corridors, still putting people into categories, and labeling some people’s passions and joys as contemptible, as if he alone is the arbiter of taste.
But he didn’t recognize me. He didn’t look at me and see a pimply-faced scared looking kid. And though I hate for that little kid that Bryce couldn’t imagine him one day turning into a TV host, right now I’m relieved.
I want to stay Sebastian Archer here. I don’t want to be Seth. Not anymore.
Luke and I finish our impromptu interview, and I’m pretty sure the whole crew sighs.
I don’t want to be in this no doubt mold-and-asbestos ridden building anymore. I want to be out in the brisk air. Because even though Luke thinks I’m longing for California, I do like Massachusetts. There’s a lot of good in my home state. A lot of good I wouldn’t have recognized if I hadn’t come back here.
Like Luke.
Luke is good.
I smile to myself, and suddenly the school isn’t as terrible as I remember. It’s dark and dreary, just like Bryce said. Not just the locker room. The whole place. Lockers on both sides flank the windowless hallway, and the fluorescent light that shines bluish yellow light from uncleaned fixtures does not sufficiently counteract that.
“Let’s go this way,” I say spontaneously. “It goes outside too, right?”
Luke nods. “I think so.”
Bryce rolls his eyes. “That’s just the way to the library. No one goes there.”
“A library!” Flora exclaims. “Now those are definitely adorable.”
Bryce blinks. “Adorable? They just have a bunch of books in them.”
The crew moves toward the library anyway. My best memories of high school were spent in the library. I used to go there every lunch period. Every free period too.
All the other kids ate in the cafeteria, but I guess I wasn’t the first kid to not have anyone to eat with in the cafeteria, and the librarian, Mrs. Smith, was nice.
I stroll around the high school, letting myself enjoy the good feelings. I enjoyed learning, at least some subjects. I liked Theater and English and History.
Flora exclaims over the artwork on some of the cork boards on the walls. There are no lockers by the library, and I glance at the angsty self-portraits hanging up.
I’m glad to be out of here.
The door to the library opens, and I frown.
This is Sunday. The school is closed. That’s why we’re here. We’re getting some B-roll of the ice rink Luke used to practice in, but we don’t need another scene of all the women on ice-skates. Ella decided to come here for some extra nostalgia.
But the door is opening, and someone is exiting.
Worry seizes my heart, yanking hold of all of my organs.
It’s not...
It couldn’t be...
A woman slips from the door. She’s in a floral dress and dyed red hair, 1990s-style. Her roots have grayer than I remember, and I should be turning around. I should not be here.