Page 6 of Sweet Oblivion

“Meet me on the west side, under the big tree.”

I hung up before he could respond. I tore around the lacrosse field, backpack smacking my back as I tucked the iPad into my T-shirt. I shoved the tail into my jeans just as I made a running leap for the edge of the seven-foot wrought-iron fence, which I scaled with ease thanks to years of parkour.

I hit the ground with an ankle-jarring thud and glanced back, my breath rushing from my lungs. Ms. Gates was nowhere to be seen.

Good. I had time to correct the message by sending a second one that made Ms. Gates look bad. No way the squinty-eyed hag would jeopardize her cushy position at one of the premier private schools in the nation once I sent Aya my version of what had gone down in the classroom today.

I chuckled.

There was no point in just getting back at Ms. Gates, or anyone else.

I always preferred to get even.

4

Nash

The lyrics from “Gives You Hell” by the All-American Rejects drifted through my head as I stared up at the ceiling of my room. That song annoyed me even as I was thankful to have something in my mind again.

Aya had dismissed me. I’d saved her life—well, at least pulled her from that big wave—all those years ago, and she didn’t have the decency to reply immediately? It had been three full days since my messages to her. I’d followed up that first one with a couple more, trying to explain how she’d ended up with the first one. Maybe she thought I was crazy. Three freaking days.

I hated rejection. It gave me a squirmy, dark feeling in my gut. One that reminded me of Lev…

A new message popped up. I narrowed my eyes, but after no more than a moment, the oppressive boredom of being home, alone, in all that space, thinking about my dead brother, made me click on the message. That was the only reason. It was from her. Finally. Not because I wanted to see if she remembered me, too.

Or if she still thought I was pretty.

Or because I missed Lev.

Or because I needed to talk to someone since I’d not decided on whether to forgive Hugh yet…

The note opened on my screen.

Dear Nash,

I’m totally freaking out about attending Holyoke. Freaking out!

I don’t want to meet these atrociously mannered kids, let alone interact with them every day. But my mum said I need Western education. Probably because I’ve spent most of my life living in the bush in Africa and Asia. In case you didn’t know, my mum runs this nonprofit, Clean Water, that’s tackling sanitation needs.

We’re currently in Nepal. I get to school by climbing the side of a mountain. It’d be a lot cooler if I wasn’t terrified of heights. I nearly puke each time.

I don’t have social anxiety, though, and I have no idea why the teacher told you that. Maybe because I’m coming from a foreign country, and I told her I was anxious about the books you’re reading and what you’re studying in history, math, and science. Send me some details, please?

I only get messages on my phone when I climb to the top of the mountain. Write back soon—don’t make me climb up here for nothing.

Your friend,

Aya

PS—I’m glad you think my eyes are pretty. Send me a photo of what you look like.

Huh. This girl sounded genuine. She wouldn’t last long once Lord and his crew sank their mean fingers into her. I snapped a shot of myself lying on my denim-covered beanbag chair and sent it to her, along with a laundry list of books we’d read and were supposed to read. I glanced at my overflowing bookshelf, a pang of longing hitting me.

Lev had loved to read, and I’d commandeered most of his books. Maybe Aya had read them, and we could talk about them.

What was wrong with me? I didn’t like to read. And I didn’t chat with chicks.

I shoved thoughts of my brother aside and wrote to Aya about our history assignments and what math and science work we’d been doing.

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