Page 41 of By Any Other Name

Maybe: Rosaline Hathaway:

Are you coming?

I just heard from V…

Are you here yet?

She’s probably talking about the party on Saturday where he lost his phone. She follows that up with some questions about music, which seems to be what they were discussing. Or, perhaps something he mentioned to her? It’s hard to tell without the whole message showing. Then, the next morning, it starts to go off the rails.

Maybe: Rosaline Hathaway:

Did you get the pic I se…

I think we should anno…

What do you think?

Call me back when yo…

I furrow my brow. Gods, I wish I could see the rest of what she’s asking about. If only for, er, academic curiosity. I scroll to the following day, moving my face closer to the screen with the manic glee of a prospector sifting for gold.We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precious.

Maybe: Rosaline Hathaway:

Roman what the fu…

My mom wants to k…

If we’re getting engag…

My heart is suddenly beating so hard against my chest I can’t breathe. “Engag,” can only be “Engaged,” right? He’s engaged? Or, engaged to be engaged? And to Rosaline Hathaway of all people?

My mind races, conjuring long buried memories of every time I would walk down a hallway in prep school behind Roman and Rosaline, every time they made out in front of my locker or in the parking lot next to my car. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was on purpose. The way they were seemingly everywhere I was, all the time.

But that was—is—just my perception. I remind myself now, as I did back then, that Roman wasn’t thinking about me. Rosaline certainly wasn’t. I was the one who was hyper fixated—like learning a new word, and suddenly hearing it everywhere.

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that Roman might be promised to someone. Half of all Order kids have their marriages planned out on the day they’re born, and almost all have them set up by the time they turn five. It almost never takes more than five years for another Order baby to be born with a compatible star chart, and then, if the families agree, the match will be set up right then and there.

About two-thirds of betrothed couples who grow up knowing they are promised to each other start dating by prep school. Why didn’t I realize that Roman and Rosaline were one of those couples? Why do I even care?

I stare down at Roman’s phone in his sister’s purple case, and frown. I suck in deep breaths, trying to think about this rationally. Like a puzzle. Because this engagement, like every other thing I’ve ever known about him, doesn’t add up.

Maybe I’m delusional, or feeding into years of half-crazed fantasies, but if he’s engaged to Rosaline then what would he be doing sitting in a dark car in my driveway late at night? If he’s engaged to Rosaline, why would he look at me with that dark, raw, hunger that sends shivers all over my body. He wouldn’t. Unless, maybe, Roman and I have far more than an ancient feud in common.

Unless, maybe, we could help each other.

ChapterEleven

ROMAN

Isprint into the library five minutes late, and dash up the stairs two at a time. A surly, blonde librarian scowls at me as I run, making a loud “shhh!” sound that is far louder than my pounding feet. I give her a nod and a smile, as if to say sorry, and she looks away.

Skidding into the alcove in the back of the second floor, I’m shocked and a little disappointed when Etta is nowhere in sight. She’s usually painfully on time. Or at least, she used to be. I don’t necessarily know how she is now, but I remember how she would complain when I was late to Model UN or SAT prep or whatever other activity I was only taking because of her.

Her comment yesterday proved to me that I was a better actor than I had always feared.“You always liked school.”

No, good girl, I liked you.It’s amazing what a seventeen year old boy will pretend to like to spend time with a girl.

I sit down in one of the armchairs to wait, and toss my bag on the one across from me. The little group of four chairs is clustered in a corner, with a blank white wall on one side and a bookshelf on the other. There’s a fire exit behind the chair furthest from me, and a large sign stating that the door is alarmed. I have no idea why this seating area is here, or frankly, why more people aren’t using it—if only that maybe no one realizes it’s back here.

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