My heart starts to race. “And?” I unfold my arms and rest them on the metal table.
“And,” Tassie reaches out and grabs my hand, “there’s a new drug that’s just been approved by the FDA. It’s an immune booster that’s been very effective in treating cancers that don’t respond well to chemo or radiation.”
My heart starts to accelerate out of control, filling with a rush of hope. I want to pull it back, but I can’t help myself. This is a door that’s been welded shut for over a year and somehow Tassie’s managed to crack it open, allowing a tiny sliver of light to shine through.
“What’s the statistical data for her particular condition? What’s the relapse rate and average time for treatment validation?”
“Whoa.” Still grinning, Tassie throws up a palm again. “All great questions, and my mom is getting the data for herself to review, but that’s not the challenge.”
“What, then?” Because I would move heaven and earth to save my mom. I would auction off every expendable body part I own to an underground people chop shop, I’d write people’s term papers (I hate cheaters, but I’d do it!), and I’d even sign over my brain to the U.S. government—they already asked, but I turned them down.
“The medicine is so new that supply is very limited, and it’s definitely not covered by any insurance out there. But they do have a program where they’ll give the medicine to a certain number of people each year as part of their legal obligation to continue studying the drug’s efficacy.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. This means two things: One, getting the drug won’t be easy. And two, if my mother did manage to be part of the ongoing study, there’s a big chance she’d be part of the control group, meaning she’d get a placebo.
“Elle, don’t give up hope. My mother is going to pull every string she can for you.” Tass squeezes my hand. “This is good news. It’s something to hope for.”
I flash a shallow smile. She’s right. Of course, I won’t tell my mom because there’d be nothing worse than getting her hopes up and this not panning out.
“Please thank your mother,” I say. “This is really, really incredible of her to do this. When will we know more?”
“Soon. My mom knows time is of the essence, so she’s calling in every favor she can.”
I start to get all teary eyed. Her mother doesn’t even know me, and for her to go out of her way like this is truly touching. “Thank you. Tell her thank you.”
“Elle,” Tassie says with a stern tone, “you don’t need to thank me. I know you’d do the same if the tables were turned.”
I bob my head, staring at our touching hands and thinking about how comforted she makes me feel. I suddenly can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a big mistake by shutting her out before. If I’d opened up sooner and invited her into my real life, maybe we would’ve found out about this drug months ago. Instead, I kept her at arm’s length and made it clear that my mom wasn’t a topic open for discussion.
What the hell is the matter with me?
“Thank you,” I say. “You’re a really good friend.”
“Hey, like I said, don’t mention it. But you didn’t ask about your second surprise.”
I don’t think anything could get better than the news she’s just delivered other than my mother getting the drug and beating this brain tumor.
“You’re getting married, and I get to sing karaoke at your wedding?” I reply snarkishly.
Tassie snorts out a laugh and then pushes her glasses up her nose. “Like I’d ever get married. That’s, like, dinosaurs and cavemen.” She swipes her hand through the air. “Thankfully, Hunter knows how silly I think marriage is. My commitment to be with him is given freely, which is way sexier and much more meaningful compared to a partnership of a legal nature.”
“Agreed. So what’s the second surprise?” I ask.
“It’s that.” She jerks her head in the direction over my shoulder.
Suddenly, the cavernous room explodes with strange music.
I turn my head and twist my body to see where this…this noise is coming from. “What. The. Fuck?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HENRY
Ah…the sweet sound of mariachis. Nothing in this world is more capable of simultaneously embarrassing, flattering, and making a woman laugh than twenty dudes dressed in tight black pants with shiny silver buttons and giant sombreros. And these guys are the best. My parents have booked them for parties dozens of times.
First, I stay behind as the troop of mariachis descends into the common with an explosive version of the only song I know well, “El Cucaracha.” I wait twenty seconds for the romantic gesture to work its magic before coming around the corner in my own personal mariachi outfit. I bet no one knows that in addition to being an awesome lover and kick-ass DE, I also play trumpet—my mother demanded we all learn music in elementary school as part of a well-rounded education. Now I’m seeing the logic.
Yes, I am a man of many talents. Add seduction to the list.
As I come up behind the wall of flashy black suits, I see hundreds of students stand, clapping and gathering around. The balconies encircling the massive room are packed with onlookers.
Oh, yeah…. Henry has hit this one out of the piñata park!
I give a quick “go time” nod to the five women standing with me, all wearing bright Mexican floral dresses and carrying red roses. I’ve already pointed out Elle sitting at a table with Tassie, so they know where to go.
I give my lips a lick and place the tip of my trumpet to my mouth, walking slowly out in front of the musicians. I can’t wait to see Elle’s face smile, I realize. Because there’s really nothing like it. Glowing brown eyes, a sexy little vixen-esque gap between her two front teeth, and honey blonde hair that seems to frame it all up into something that reminds me of my favorite dish. Pasta.
Quickly, I spot the women surrounding Elle’s table, dancing in a circle and laying flowers at her feet to spell out “I’m sorry.”
Only Elle isn’t smiling. In fact, she looks…well, I’m not sure. Pissed maybe?
Oh no. But I can’t stop now. I’m committed.
I blow out the final notes of the timeless tribute to roaches and take my place in front of my compadres, getting to my knees and extending my arms. “Elle, will you go out with me again?”
From her seat, Elle begins snarling with those pink lips, and I’m fairly sure I’m going to soil my very, very large mariachi pants. She is so pissed.
I look at her as if to say, “What’s the matter?”
She gets up, turns, and leaves the room. I feel my ego deflate like a leaky balloon. This is cringingly painful. Really, really painful.
I look at Tassie, who just stares with pity, as do the other students, who’ve caught on that this is a romantic gesture gone wrong.
Fuck. How did that not work? I get to my feet and gesture for the music to stop. The musicians look at me with a respectful nod. Apparently, I am not the first guy to get shot down in their presence.
The biggest mariachi, after myself of course, steps forward. “That will be one thousand dollars, señor.”
Huh?
I blow out a breath and nod. “Sure. No problem. Just keep playing.” At least the entire student body will be entertained for the next forty minutes.
As for me, I’m done. I’m done begging, groveling, and trying. Because if staying in the game means I’ve got to kiss up to that ice-cold, abominable snow woman, then I give up!
My heart bucks inside my chest, like it’s protesting. Of course it is. I’m not a quitter. And giving up now isn’t just giving up on Elle, it’s giving up on football.
Fuck. What the hell does she want from me?
ELLE
Once outside the common, I double over and start laughing hysterically. I’m not going to lie. Henry has managed to simultaneously flatter and embarrass the hell out of me. But you know that feeling when you’re mad at someone and they try to make you laugh by saying something stupid lik
e, “Come on…don’t be mad…You gonna make a wittle laugh?” while using baby talk or some other silly voice? Well, that’s kind of how I felt. I didn’t want to smile and give Henry the satisfaction of thinking he’d won me over.
“Elle! Ohmygod. Are you okay?” Tassie catches up to me on the walkway leading to the dorms and places her hands on my shoulders. “I’m so sorry! Please don’t cry. I didn’t know it would upset you. I thought it would cheer you up.”
I snort a few times, unable to stop myself from laughing. And yes, I am crying, but they’re not tears of sadness.
“Elle? Are you…laughing?”
I shake my head and stand upright. “Yes.”
She smiles. “Ohthankgod. I thought maybe you had some strange mariachi phobia we didn’t know about and we’d triggered you.”
“No…” I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands.
“Then why’d you run away?”
I finally feel my laughter dying down and take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I’m not ready to forgive Henry and I felt like he was shoving it down my throat.” I hate pushy people.
Tass nods with a pensive look on her face—brown brows knitted together, puckered lips. “I suppose that makes sense. But you have to admit, he’s really trying.”
She makes a good point, but I can only wonder… “Why? Why is he trying so hard? He knows we’re not compatible.”
“Can I be honest? That’s not what I saw when you two were together.”
I frown, indicating I think she’s been smoking something.
“No. Really.” She gives my arm a little squeeze. “Remember the weekend when we went to Henry’s lake house, before Hunter and I had our blowout?”
Henry’s parents have a huge log cabin on Lake Travis about ten times the size of my parents’ house. A bunch of us went there for an overnighter, but Tass and Hunter got into a sort of fight, so I left early with her.
“How could I forget?” I say.
“Well, when we got to the cabin and Henry opened the door to greet us, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more jealous than anyone in my entire life. The way his face lit up when he saw you.”
Henry had then grabbed me, thrown me over his shoulder like a little doll, and proceeded to tickle me.
“Yeah, well,” I rub the back of my neck, “my bladder was full, and he almost made me pee myself.”
Tassie smiled. “You were also laughing your ass off, and it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”
I hit pause on my bitterness and the negative voice inside my head, allowing Tassie’s words to soak in. She’s not entirely wrong, but—
“He just cares about partying and football, Tass. How’s that supposed to be a good match for someone like me?” She doesn’t know what I’ve been through and how strange and complicated my past is. Henry has this perfect happy life. He’d never understand me.
“I have a theory,” she says, “about why I think Henry is a match. I think we can both agree that the universe has an intelligence far superior to our own, which says a lot because you and I are super smart. We’re like her little brainy minions. Brainions!” She snorts and I wait for her to finish.
“Oh, sorry,” she says. “I think that the universe knows we can’t all be going through hell at the same time; otherwise, everyone would be jumping off bridges. Some of us have to be in a good place—a happy place—so we can lift up the people in our lives who are going through a rough spot. And you can’t argue that rough spots are simply part of life. As painful as they are, we need them to grow as human beings, and we need them because they help us place a value on the good stuff. But we can’t survive those rough spots alone, and it’s our friends, family, and Henrys who help us get through it.”
I get what she’s saying even if there’s no scientific data to support it. Nevertheless, “Your theory is sound, but I have to point out that then I’m wasting my time with Henry because I won’t be in this place forever, Tass. At least, I hope not.” Life has to get better. It has to. “So at some point, years from now, I won’t need a party king to make me smile. I’ll be thinking about building my future. I can’t see building it with him.” His dream is to go pro and live in the limelight. My dream is to give free, clean energy to the masses. Don’t forget about building a tele-transporter. While I’m off in the lab, working twelve hours a day, he’ll be surrounded by hordes of eager hot women and thousands of screaming fans. Sooner or later, he’ll be wondering why I’m not by his side, cheering with the rest of them. That’s what a good woman would do for him, right? But God did not give me this annoyingly powerful brain and make me suffer growing up just so I can sit on the sidelines, watching someone else live their dream.
Tassie sighs and glances at two lovebirds walking past us, hand in hand. “I’m not going to lie. Henry has some growing up to do, but you two have amazing chemistry. And just look how far he’s come since he met you, Elle? He told off his entire fraternity after you made him realize how juvenile and disrespectful they were being to women.”
She has a point.
“And sooner or later,” she adds, “Henry is going to hit his own rough patch, and I think you’ll be just the person he needs. Rational, smart, and compassionate. You know how to carry the heaviest of the heavy on your shoulders and keep going. You’re the strongest, most determined person I know.”
I’m shocked that she gets that about me, because I’ve never told her about my past, which almost broke me. It’s why, after high school, when every university and branch of government was coming at me, making offers and promising the moon, I said no. I felt like everyone wanted to own me and use me, but no one cared about how I felt or that I was only thirteen and had no friends. It’s why I ran away to live with my uncle Seymour, who—according to my mother—had been just like me. If anyone could understand what I’d been going through, surely it was the estranged uncle who decided one day to quit his job as a scientist for some big company and live like a leaf, blowing in the wind. Anyway, I’d found his last known address in San Diego on a postcard and went to see him.
“I know what you’re going through, kid,” he’d said, “but you can’t stay. I’m leaving tomorrow—just got a job with the circus.”
I’d never heard of anything so illogical and crazy, yet, strangely it appealed to me. I wanted fun and magic. I wanted to be a kid.
“Then take me. Take me with you,” I’d begged.
Uncle Seymour had laughed me off. “You’re thirteen. You should be in school, enjoying your childhood, Elle.”
“They won’t let me, and you know why. Please, I’m begging you. There’s nowhere else for me to go, and I’m not going back.” I felt like my parents just wanted to sell me to the highest bidder.
I remember the conflicted look in my uncle’s eyes. He knew what I was going through. Anyway, he’d said yes as long as he could get my parents’ approval, which they reluctantly gave once he explained that I’d intended to disappear forever. I think they were afraid that with a brain like mine, I might actually figure out how to make good on my threat. So I joined the circus. My dirty, happy, weird little secret. I was a teenage clown—a story so outrageous that it threatens to be a cliché. Or a Lifetime miniseries. But traveling from town to town with fellow “freaks,” meeting people from every walk of life, well, I found myself. But more importantly, I got to be a kid. Yes, I had to work, but I also got to just have fun. Anyway, I ended up staying with my uncle until I was fifteen. Then I came home, thinking I was mentally prepared to start a new chapter of my life: college.
Wrong.
I took one tour of Harvard and almost had a heart attack. I mean, everyone stared at me, especially the guys—full grown men, really—who were all thinking the same thing: “What’s with the little girl in big glasses?” I couldn’t go through it again—being surrounded by people who made fun of me or saw me as an exhibit at a zoo.
After that, I vowed never to go back to college. My parents were livid. Livid. In their mi
nds I was wasting my life. But this time, I didn’t run. I stood my ground, endured their lectures, and figured I’d be eighteen in a few years. Meanwhile, I had to prepare for my future. I would educate myself with books and change the world on my own terms.
So, starting at fifteen, I began reading every textbook and lecture from the physics programs at every Ivy League out there, all the way through to the PhD programs.
At seventeen, my mother started getting headaches.
At eighteen my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
At nineteen, they said it was incurable, and she only asked me to do one thing: go to college. Any college. She just needed to know that I would be okay and happy and able to support myself doing something I loved. “At least with a degree, you can get your foot in the door anywhere you go.” Meaning, I couldn’t just show up at a job interview and show them my IQ score or a list of books I’d read. So that landed me here with Tassie, fulfilling my mother’s dying wish, me trying to fit in with all these people, only now the equation has shifted. We all match in age, but I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime, whereas they’re just starting out, still bright eyed and filled with hope. But I’m not like them. I grew up a long time ago. I know that life is fucking hard. And that is the point. How could someone like Henry ever possibly “get” me? We’ll never be in the same place in life and it hurts to think about it. It’s scary to feel so alone in the world. But I like him enough to know that I don’t ever want him to be like me. Everyone should be allowed to grow up in their own time, in their own way.
I look at Tassie, my new friend, and know I’ll never tell her all this, because it will only make her worry and I want her to be happy.
I clear my throat. “Tass, you’re really a great friend. And I really, really appreciate everything you’re saying, but—”
“But you’re not going to give Henry a chance, are you?”
“No.”
She presses her lips firmly together and bobs her head, staring at the ground. “Well, I think you’re making a mistake. But okay. If you feel that strongly, then there’s no way to change your mind. I’ll drop it. And I’ll tell Henry to back off.”