by AnonYMous
Warren, shaking his head: Not as often, and they really don’t care.
Me, cocking my head at him: Have you paid them off too?
Warren, laughing: No, although I think they’d be easy to bribe. So . . . does that mean you’d want to stay with me?
I do, I really do. But I’m nervous. I tried to explain my nervousness to him, telling him how I have no experience whatsoever (so embarrassing) and how I’m not sure if I’m ready. But as usual, words and I do not mix, and it all sort of tumbled out like incoherent nonsense. And I must have went on and on because suddenly he stepped close to me, took my hands in his, and silenced me with a short, sweet kiss.
Warren: Bailey, we will take all the time you need. You know how I am about finding the perfect moment. And . . . (he ran his fingers through my hair soothingly) don’t worry about any of that. I mean, everything we’ve done together so far has turned out pretty great, hasn’t it?
He was right, of course. And this is Warren, after all. He’ll make everything perfect. So it’s settled. I’ll stay with Warren overnight when I’m ready.
I’m already so nervous I could puke.
December 7
Last night a snowstorm passed through and the entire campus was covered in a foot of snow. It was gorgeous, but of course, the drawback to being at a boarding school is that no one has any excuse to miss class. Even in a foot of snow, classes are happening, and you’re walking. But they do allow boots in the snow, so at least my feet weren’t blocks of ice by the time I reached my first class.
This isn’t the first time it’s snowed on campus, but it’s the first time it’s snowed enough to do anything with it. Everyone was antsy to get classes over with and get outside, even the teachers. It was like, for the day, we were all little kids again.
Warren met me before first period with a coffee, and it felt so warm and cheery in my hands. He seemed to be in a really good mood, just like everyone else. I swear the whole campus got quieter. Even some of the teachers took a day off, so to speak. In English we were allowed to read all period. Mr. Callahan had us do our work individually and silently at our desks, and in civics the teacher showed us a video about John F. Kennedy instead of actually teaching anything.
Let’s be honest, they were just as excited as us and wanted to get home and enjoy the snow or hibernate or whatever teachers do in this kind of weather.
The day seemed to fly by, and as soon as I got out of class, I ran home to change into something warmer and snugglier. Emily was home, doing the exact same thing. She said she was going with some of the AV kids to sled behind the arts building. She said it was pretty much Prescott tradition. I told her I hoped I’d see her there, and I was going to check in with Katy and the gang first.
I didn’t have to wait long. Katy, Drew, and Warren showed up at my door (literally, my door. The dorm mom let them up). Drew had a plastic sled.
Me: Behind the arts building?
Katy, winking: For a while, then we have even better plans.
Emily wasn’t wrong. All of Prescott, freshmen to seniors, was behind the arts building, where the steepest and biggest hill on campus was. It was already getting a little dark, but there were some lights coming from the arts building and beside it from the parking lot.
Katy and I sledded down together the first time and came to a crashing halt at the bottom, flipping over a few times before landing hard in the snow. We both lay there giggling like idiots until Drew and Warren came over and practically carried us back up the hill, we were laughing so hard. Everyone was going down so fast and it was so crowded, it was pretty dangerous.
Some of the kids even got creative and were using things like trash can lids and cafeteria trays as sleds. So hysterical. As Drew and Katy went down together, I looked around for Emily and saw her with a whole group of people I recognized but hadn’t spoken to much. AV kids. She looked happy. They were laughing just as hard as me and Katy, and I don’t know why, but it made me so happy to see her smiling. I don’t see her with other people much. She disappears all the time, sure, but she never really talks about anyone else, so maybe she does have friends and it’s just that they’re all as busy as she is.
Then Drew and Katy were back, and it was me and Warren’s turn. He sat behind me on the plastic sled and wrapped his arms around me as we coasted down. We glided easily all the way to the bottom until another sled rammed into us and we had to help each other up. We kept slipping and grabbing for each other all the way back up the hill, absolutely cracking up at how clumsy we were.
I’m not sure how long we stayed out, but it was cold enough that my toes and fingers were completely numb. And that’s when Drew and Warren signaled to each other and grabbed me and Katy and pulled us off the hill.
We went down through the courtyard area and then back behind the freshman boys’ dorm, which is famously the farthest dorm away from the school. Then, without a word, we slipped into the woods behind the dorm and walked until we could no longer see any of Prescott’s lights.
To my surprise, we were not the only ones there. There was a fire pit in the center of a small clearing, and it was blazing brightly. (I later learned that a senior had stolen it from a local hardware place years ago, and the delinquents of Prescott have been using it ever since.) There were people everywhere, mostly upperclassmen from what I could tell. They were gathered around the fire, talking in small groups. Some stood a little farther away, talking in hushed tones, and then there were couples at the very fringes of the fire’s light, taking advantage of some time away from the watchful eyes of teachers and dorm parents. First Snow Bonfire: the other Prescott tradition, my friends explained.
Warren and Drew had disappeared somewhere, and when they came back they had cups of hot chocolate for us. I sipped it, then turned with surprise to Warren, who winked. Someone had definitely spiked the hot chocolate. It was a little minty, and it was good. Katy and I settled onto a fallen tree branch and talked to some people around us, and with each other, as Drew and Warren worked the crowd. I noticed that Katy mostly watched Drew but thought better of pointing out that fact.
Katy introduced me to people I already knew from classes, it’s just that I’d never seen them in this particular context, and if Katy was taking the time to introduce them, they were probably somebodies in the Prescott world. I nodded my head and drank as she did most of the talking.
I looked over at Warren at some point. He and Drew were with a group of boys I knew were sort of jocks. Prescott didn’t have a football team or even a basketball team. We were too small for that. But we had lacrosse and crew. And those boys were athletes. Warren and Drew were doing their silent communication thing—I could tell even from the distance—and when one of the jock boys gestured in question, Warren and Drew nodded at each other before reaching out and shaking the jock’s hand in turn. Then the whole group, Warren and Drew included, went off into the woods for a while.
The alcohol hit me all at once and I started giggling out of nervousness. Katy thought it was terribly amusing and went to get us refills. By the time Warren and Drew were back, I was sufficiently warm and tipsy.
The boys got us yet another refill and I sort of just slumped against Warren, letting him hold me and keep me warm, and I felt incredibly happy to be here, at Prescott, with Warren and my friends, who were obviously amazing, in the snow.
I heard Katy ask Drew about the boys, and their voices got quiet but I could tell from their tones they were excited about whatever they were discussing. I mumbled something to Warren about it and he chuckled, all low and sexy, and told me that yeah, things were good, and things were going to get better if we played our cards right.
I’m not sure what cards we are playing, and I’m not sure how anything could get any better, but I’m up for it, whatever it is.
December 8
Emily and I both slept until lunch today. Whoops.
Apparently, most of the school did, or at least the upperclassmen. Emily followed the proper Prescott pr
ocedure and called the school secretary for both of us, thank goodness, and the secretary sarcastically said something about a sudden illness raging on campus.
She and I went to lunch together and headed off to class. I do wonder why Emily slept in, though. I didn’t see her at the bonfire at all, but I didn’t ask. Maybe she did something with the AV kids, and that’s a good thing, right? I’m certainly paying the price for all my fun. My head is STILL killing me.
Warren was just fine. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be in a great mood. Perhaps it was because things were going to get better, like he said last night. I didn’t ask, honestly. I just tried to absorb some of his good mood. He was so calm and lovey tonight at the lab, exactly what I needed as I recovered. He even did most of the work tonight since I was still nauseated. I swear he’s the perfect boyfriend.
The countdown until break is creeping by. I can’t stand it! I’m soooo nervous, but also, the anticipation is KILLING me. I want everyone to go away so it’s just me and Warren. I think I’ll fill the time with more shopping with Katy and, of course, some extra time at the lab. ;)
December 19
Today is the last day before the holiday break, and even though the teachers assigned homework for the next two weeks, everyone seems to be in a great mood.
To my surprise, Emily gave me a present this morning, explaining she’d be leaving for home right after classes are over, so we probably won’t see each other again. It was a copy of Notting Hill, the director’s cut with all these extra features on it. It was amazing of her, really, to get me something that kind of bridged our worlds, with her love of films and . . . Mom. She knew it reminded me of Mom. I’d gotten her something too, though my gift was nowhere near as cool. Just passes to the movie theater in Wiltshire, which I knew were useful if not creative. She seemed really happy to get them. Maybe she and I can go together sometime, if things are still going okay between us.
I gave Katy a scarf-and-gloves set I’d seen her admiring on our last shopping trip. Katy got me an adorable travel bag for makeup and toiletries, perfect for spending the night in the boys’ dorm, she added with a wink. She also gave me some, um, pointers for my first night with Warren, and it was honestly the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me so far here at Prescott. It wasn’t just stuff about how to make Warren feel good but a few tidbits for me, too, to make sure it wouldn’t hurt much the first time. She told me about losing her virginity last year and it was sort of a cautionary tale, I suppose. Some older guy she wanted to impress who broke her heart after, so she told me to be absolutely sure I wanted to be with Warren. We kind of bonded over it all, and that was truly the best gift she gave me.
Drew and I exchanged nothing except an awkward hug and he gave me a very pointed and knowing “Have a great time here alone over break.” I guess Warren told him, which is fine. I can’t really expect Warren not to tell his best friend, and it’s not like he told the whole world. It’s just kind of embarrassing, and . . . I don’t know. It’s like it adds to some of the buildup or something. Like the more we talk about it, the more I can’t possibly compare to whatever people are thinking.
I didn’t have any idea what to get Warren. Not one thing seemed good enough, so in the end I got him a few things to make up for it: a Princeton hoodie, a fur-lined hat that I thought would look Russian chic and perfect with his ever-present coat, and a metal paperweight for his dorm desk that was made to look like a molecule.
We aren’t exchanging presents yet, though. We’re going to wait until Christmas.
Drew isn’t gone yet, but Emily and Katy are. I’ve got the room all to myself tonight, which I kind of feel like I need. Honestly, I had myself a good cry about Mom while no one was around to see. It’s the second Christmas without her. Last year everyone was down and missing her so much. Now Dad has moved on. How is he okay with not decorating the tree with her or making her ooey-gooey fudge? I used to complain about having to stir that chocolate for so long on the stove; now I wish I could get every minute back.
December 21
It’s day two of holiday break and everyone is gone except for me and Warren. There are probably some other people here, but honestly, it feels like he and I are the last two people on earth. In a really, really good way. I’m not sure I’d even notice other people on campus anyway. It’s just us and the lab and the work.
We pretty much spend most of our time in the lab. We go straight there after breakfast and work until lunch, then we walk to the coffee shop and grab a sandwich. Yesterday we had to go back to the lab right away because of where we were in the making process, but today we spent the afternoon watching movies curled up in his bed, dozing or kissing or both. We had to go back and work late afterward, but it was worth it. We are absolutely swamped right now with orders or whatever you want to call them. Drew was right about that: The holidays have driven demand right up. He’ll be here tomorrow to get the product and make deliveries. Mark stopped by and I watched, kind of awestruck, as Warren handed him a thick stack of bills. I didn’t ask how much it cost us. I don’t want to know some things. Also, I’m more than satisfied with my own cut, so it really doesn’t matter to me.
Speaking of my own cut, Warren and I have gone to a nice restaurant for dinner every night, once in Wiltshire, and we went to Kingsley tonight, and we’re thinking of heading to Covington tomorrow for a seafood place, if there’s time. For the first time ever, I don’t even glance at prices. Warren drives. Warren bought the car by himself. I get the feeling his parents don’t buy him much of anything. I haven’t asked him outright, but he’s said as much. Maybe I’ll ask him tonight at dinner. I don’t know much about his family, and that’s part of being a girlfriend, right? I could bring up my family first. Even Mom.
It would be really nice to talk to someone about Mom. Especially Warren.
Okay, I need to get ready for that dinner. We’ll probably have to go back to the lab when we get back, just to check on things. Then I’ll go to his place.
So far I haven’t been ready, exactly. But Warren is super sweet about everything and there’s been no pressure. I don’t know how I got so lucky, with him and Science Club in general. They may not be a secret coven of vampires, but it feels just as cool.
December 22
Wow. Just wow. I asked Warren about his family and I am still kind of reeling from everything he told me. We’d had some wine with dinner (it was one of Drew’s family’s restaurants, so they knew Warren and it was on the house, no questions asked), so I’m not really sure if he’d have been so honest without it, but I’d like to believe he just trusts me that much.
Really, I only asked because I told him about Mom tonight. He asked me about her, and I don’t know, it was like a dam broke, and a rush of emotions spilled out. I told him how she died, how I tried to be so strong for Dad and Bex, how Dad found Isa, how sometimes Bex seems to not remember as much about Mom as I do, and how I feel like sometimes I’m the only one still grieving.
He reached across the table and took my hand, and he was a little teary as he listened. And that’s when I worked up the courage to ask him about the family he never mentions.
He started telling me about his parents and what happened with them in a rush, just like I had, and I am certain he needed to tell someone. I think this might be eating him up inside, and he can’t afford to keep it in anymore. I’m not sure he even talks to Drew about this, although I’m sure Drew knows. I don’t know. I just feel very, very honored that he opened up to me about it. And knowing what I know now, it’s no surprise he felt he could: We actually have a lot in common.
Warren had an older brother named Mitchell. Mitch was a lot older, meant to be an only child, but Warren was an “oops” for his parents eight years later (we both had a good laugh when he said that). When Warren was in middle school and his brother was in college, though, things went really sour. His parents kept it from him for a while but he figured it out soon enough: Mitch was an addict. What had started off as an addiction to p
ills—something to soothe the pain of a baseball injury from high school—had become more. Unable to get enough pills to satisfy him through a prescription, he’d turned to getting them on the street. When that became too hard and too expensive, he’d found something cheaper and easier to get: heroin.
Warren said all he really remembered about that year was his mother crying a lot, his dad constantly leaving, looking for Mitch, who had disappeared again. There was a stint in a good rehab, an even longer visit to a great rehab, and a period of sobriety. Then a setback, then again, days of not hearing from him, not knowing where he was. It was his father who discovered Mitch after a long disappearance, blue and swollen and alone, a needle still in his arm.
Though that hadn’t been easy for him to tell me, the next part seemed even harder for Warren to speak out loud.
It was like a light went out in his mother. It wasn’t just grief or even depression, it was . . . more. She lost her job, wouldn’t leave the house; she barely responded when spoken to. Warren’s father tried to help her. He had all sorts of therapists and doctors come to work with her, but nothing worked. He even sent her away for a while, to a facility in Florida, thinking some warmth and like-minded people would do her some good, but she came back virtually unchanged. After a while, Warren’s father gave up, or at least he accepted that nothing was going to change. He started to stay late at work, went away for long business trips, anything he could do to avoid home. They never officially divorced; his father still takes care of his mother in most ways, but he no longer lives there.
And meanwhile, Warren was growing up, and they didn’t notice. The only way they seemed to acknowledge his existence at all was when he would do something truly extraordinary, like getting into Prescott, being accepted into Princeton’s summer program, getting the Headmaster’s Award for chemistry. Sometimes they would be sad about it, saying it was something Mitchell should have done, but it was still attention. It was still some kind of recognition. So that’s what he tried to do, all the time. Excel in everything. To make them see, to be seen. To make up for Mitchell’s loss. To do the things Mitchell would never do.