“Undying gratitude,” Matt replies. “I’ll cash in a favor someday.”
At this rate, we traded exclusively in favors. What he’ll need in a day, a week, a year is anyone’s guess.
“Call me when you get answers.”
And in the meantime, I’m going to set some fucking ground rules. No one messes with Margo.
Only me.
23
Margo
“We’re here!” Riley yells, sprinting across the parking garage. She knocks into me, her arms squeezing around my back for a quick second. And then she jumps back, bouncing up and down. “This is a lot more imminent for you, Margo, but I’m so excited! If we like it, we can both go here, and I’ll only be a year behind, but I think I could probably graduate in three years if I take extra classes, then we can graduate together and—”
“Whoa,” I mumble. “I have to get in first.”
Sometimes I forget that Riley is a year younger. Besides the fact that we share no classes together, she doesn’t act like a junior. She’s… mature, or whatever. I’d been pushing off the fact that she still has a full year left at Emery-Rose.
“It’s going to be so lonely next year.” She sighs.
We link arms and head toward the elevators. Her parents, whom I’ve only met briefly, follow behind us with Len and Robert.
Another new development: Lenora asked me to call her Len. Less formal, and apparently everyone else calls her that, too.
“Did you tell Caleb you were coming?” Riley asks.
I nod. “He was glad.”
“Because he wants you to go to college.”
I shrug. I didn’t tell her about the mermaid, which Caleb informed me had a camera in it. But he’d disposed of it, and I didn’t need to worry. Ha. Of course I’m worried. Someone got it into my room. It’s already too easy for him to scale the house and get in, so how hard would it be for someone else?
The suspect list is long.
And the scarier question: Why didn’t I notice it?
But today… today, we’re going to take a tour. Riley and I are going to sit in on a class while the adults go to a seminar on financial aid. And after that, we get to meet some professors, talk to current students, and then we need to pull off the ultimate trick: convince our parents to let us take off by ourselves for an hour.
Better than sneaking away.
We find the admissions office, where a bunch of other high school students are gathered.
Lenora—Len—steps forward and squeezes my shoulder. “Excited?”
“Terrified,” I whisper.
After a tour that leaves me awestruck—the campus is huge—and an international law class, Riley and I find our families to get lunch.
The Jenkinses are chatting with a man with an NYU lanyard around his neck.
Len grins at us. “Margo, this is one of my old college professors, Eric Marks.”
“Old,” Professor Marks says, shaking his head and trying not to smile. “You always knew how to make a guy feel good, Len. Pleasure to meet you, Margo.”
I shake his hand, suddenly shy. “Hi.”
“We’ve heard good things,” he continues. “Grades are good. You’re going to get involved in an extracurricular activity?”