Naomi didn’t look back. She went upstairs and slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door before she stretched out on her stomach across the bed. It was stupid to get angry with Becca for judging Jesse, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart felt like it was on fire anytime someone assumed he was some terrible criminal and she was stupid to love him. Maybe he had been an awful person. Maybe he still was and she couldn’t see it. She hoped she hadn’t lost that much of her sanity, but as she looked around at her piles of unfinished art projects and the stacks of history, art, and language books on her shelf from previous semesters, she wondered how sane she truly was. Other students lived on campus and got drunk at parties. Other students dated and graduated and got married and led normal lives. She wanted to marry an ex-con and pretend being kidnapped had been a normal thing she could forget about. Burying her face in her quilt again, she held back her tears and waited for the pain to ebb away into nothingness. It usually didn’t take long.
THE NEXT few days were filled with settling back in and registering for classes. Every semester, Naomi sat in her bedroom with her laptop and registered online, but this time when she tried, an error message popped up that said she needed to visit the campus registrar in person. A little buzz started in her head. As she drove to campus and found a parking spot, the buzzing grew louder.
Failure, it hissed. You. Screwed. Up.
Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the building and stood in line. She knew what they were going to tell her, and she didn’t want to hear it. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was overreacting. She readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and looked down at her sweating palms. She wasn’t wrong.
“I-I can’t seem to register online and it said I needed to come here,” she told the lady at the window.
“Alright. Let’s look up a few things.”
Naomi gave the woman her student ID. As she waited, she looked at all the lines around her. There were so many people she didn’t know, so many she didn’t even want to know. When she looked back on her life, that part of herself hadn’t changed because of her kidnapping. She had been a loner in high school, and she was a loner now.
The lady at the window looked up from her computer. “You’re welcome to register,” she said with a smile, “but you’ll need to do it with an advisor here.” She looked at the monitor and squinted. “It looks like they might want to speak with you about your GPA and your scholarship.”
Annoyed at the unnecessary step to be told to go see her advisor, Naomi nodded and left. It was after one o’clock before she could get in to see her advisor in another building.
“Naomi, hello!”
Kate Ramirez was one of the only people Naomi had voluntarily told about her kidnapping. It seemed necessary for the person guiding the future of her education to understand the problems of her past. Kate urged her to sit down and pulled up Naomi’s file.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” Naomi said with a nervous laugh. “You must see hundreds of students a year.”
Kate winked at her before turning her attention back to the monitor. She was young, probably in her late twenties, with black hair like Becca’s, only it wasn’t dyed. She had thick bangs cut straight across her forehead. Naomi focused on her silky yellow shirt with little bows tying off the sleeves.
“Of course I remember you,” Kate said with a laugh. “You’re an exceptional student, and you’re unique.”
Naomi wasn’t sure if she should be offended. The way Kate said “unique” clearly meant, like Id forget someone with such an interesting past. Because it wasn’t her exceptional abilities as a student that set her apart. Harvard was full of exceptional students.
“So,” Naomi said slowly, leaning forward, her chair creaking. “It’s my grades, isn’t it? I’ve lost my scholarship?” A bitter taste entered her mouth.
Kate stopped scrolling down the screen and turned to face Naomi. “Well, yes.” She winced and shook her head. “You were doing great, and then you turned off. Your professors noted a lack of coursework submitted and you graded poorly on every exam.” She folded her arms. “Did something happen? A death in the family? An accident of some sort?”
“No, and it’s not the scholarship I’m worried about—I have money in my account to cover tuition, if I need.” She looked down at her hands and started scratching at a spot on her wrist. Her mother might kill her if she drained her account for tuition. It was a lot of money, and she wouldn’t have much left to pay for anything else during the semester.
Kate raised an eyebrow, making it disappear behind her bangs. “This is a renewable scholarship, Naomi, and it’s merit-based. Winning it was a huge accomplishment, and I would hate to see you lose it. If you write an appeal letter, you may be able to get it back. It appears they’ve put the scholarship on probation for a short period of time.” She swept a hand across her bangs, feathering them a little. “And this isn’t only about tuition money. If you want to get anywhere in this institution, you must keep your grades at a certain level. You know all of this.”
The disappointment in Kate’s expression made Naomi look away. She could hear muffled voices from the office next door. She shifted in her chair. “I’ve never ... I’ve never had bad grades before,” she said, her cheeks burning. “I don’t know what to do.”
The smallest hint of a smile played on Kate’s lips. “You wouldn’t be the first student I’ve heard say that. It isn’t the end of the world, but I’m afraid to say you’ve lost your scholarship for the time being—unless you appeal— and you must retake the courses you failed, whether you care about the scholarship or not. I would say you could take makeup exams, but there were also assignments you didn’t turn in, as well as some attendance issues.”
Naomi felt queasy. “So I failed them? Completely?”
Kate scrunched her nose. “Did you look up your grades when they were posted?”
“No, I was ....”
Distracted. Obsessed. Too busy worrying about Jesse.
Kate sniffed and looked at her monitor. “You failed your art history class. Your final was a large portion of your grade. You passed the rest, but not with satisfactory grades. I suggest retaking the courses.”
Naomi held her breath and gripped the edge of her chair. “That will put me behind, and I have to pay for them again, right?”
Kate nodded. “Of course, but with no scholarship this time. This is why when you came in your freshman year I told you how important it was to keep up your grades.” Her arms were still folded, and her stern expression hardened for a moment before melting into pity. “As I said before, the funding institution may make an exception if something in your personal life took precedence over your grades. Is that what happened?”
Naomi realized this was the second time Kate had asked the question. Scratching at the spot on her wrist again, she mumbled, “I don’t think what happened would count as a convincing appeal.”
“Does this have to do with your kidnapping?”
Naomi looked up. “Um, kind of. I found out Jesse ... you know, the guy who—”
Kate smiled. “Yes, I know who you’re talking about.”
“I found out he’s on parole. My mother told me right before the end of the semester, and I couldn’t think of anything else but him. My world turned upside down. I didn’t expect him to get out so soon.” She rubbed her hands on her knees. “I know it sounds stupid. I know I can’t get back my scholarship just because I fell in love with someone.”
Kate frowned. “You might be surprised, Naomi. I can e-mail you the paperwork for an appeal. Think about what you can do to convince them you were having a hard time. You see a counselor for the kidnapping, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Get her to write up a statement for you. Do whatever you can to get the money back.”
Naomi nodded and stood from her chair. She wanted to be home.
“And if you want to retake your courses, I can get you signed up,” Kate said, leaning forward as i
f to grab Naomi and sit her back down. Instead, she looked at her outstretched arm and lowered it. “Don’t take this too hard. This is just a hiccup and you’ll get over it easily.”
Looking down at Kate, Naomi held her breath. Retaking courses for an entire semester wasn’t a hiccup. Jesse wasn’t a hiccup. Things were far from resolved with him. She wondered if her mother would pay for the rest of her schooling if she was unable to get another scholarship or win back the one she had lost. She didn’t want to find out. She wanted everything to go away or at least get back to normal, even if that meant Jesse was back in prison for three more years. She couldn’t do both. And, she realized as she looked over at Kate’s computer and the screen showing grades and notes and everything relating to her academic life, maybe she didn’t want to do both.
“Can I talk to my parents and come back?” she asked.
“Of course, but classes fill up fast, so don’t take too long. And fill out that appeal paperwork as soon as you get it.”
“Thank you for your help.” She turned to leave, but stopped when Kate cleared her throat.
“Naomi, good luck. I still think you’re an exceptional student.”
Naomi smiled and thanked her one more time, then left. When she was outside, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to her mother’s number. Her hand trembled as she poised her finger over the call button. She couldn’t. Not yet. Her mother was so proud she was at Harvard, following in her footsteps, even if it wasn’t for a law degree. This would ruin everything. She remembered her mother’s bloodshot eyes that day in the office, the crushed cup.
She scrolled past her mother’s name on the phone and kept looking through the list. The list wasn’t long, but one name screamed louder than the others. Finn Giachetti.
X
WHEN SHE ANSWERED THE KNOCK ON HER door, Naomi found Finn standing on her front porch with a cup of iced tea and a Styrofoam box she guessed contained a slice of almond cake.
“I’m sure you could order this somewhere else,” he said with a lopsided smile as he held them out to her, “but nobody makes the combo quite like Java, and you said you wanted to order some when you got back.”
She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as her mouth started to water. “Finn, I invited you over for dinner. That didn’t mean you had to bring something.”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I invited myself over for dinner against your protests, so that does mean I had to bring something. Now, enjoy.” He pushed the cup and box at her. She took both. “And here’s a straw.”
She balanced it on top of the cup and stepped aside to let him in.
“What can I help with?” he asked, rubbing his hands together as he entered the kitchen. “You clearly said this isn’t a date, so I’m going to help.”
Naomi was still standing by the door. She pushed it closed with her foot and followed Finn into the kitchen. He was wearing the ripped jeans again. In fact, she was sure they were the exact same pair he always wore. She smiled at his black Jimi Hendrix shirt.
“It’s pretty much done—just spaghetti. Nothing special.”
He walked to the oven and peeked inside. She had put in a loaf of French bread earlier. “Did you make that?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.
“I haven’t mastered baking yet,” she said, shrugging. “I bought the loaf at the store, but I made a garlic spread to put in the middle. It’s warming up in there.”
“Still, it looks great. And the sauce?” He lifted the lid off the stockpot and peeked inside. “Did you make this from scratch?”
Chuckling, Naomi walked to the counter and set down her almond cake and iced tea. “Yeah, I did. Why are you so fascinated?”
He returned the lid on the pot and turned around. “I don’t know. My mom doesn’t cook much—she never cooked when I was growing up—so, yeah, this all smells amazing. I’m used to eating at Java or boiling ramen noodles.” He put on a wicked smile. “I knew it was a good idea to invite myself over. Maybe I’ll do it more often.”
Naomi grabbed the straw on top of her iced tea and began tearing off the end of the wrapper. “Finn, about us hanging out, I called you because I’m ... well, I have a problem and I don’t think anyone will understand except you. I don’t think my housemate Becca would understand what I’ve done since she’s never dropped below a 4.0 GPA. She tends to judge people who slack off.” She finished unwrapping the straw and shoved it through the hole on the cup lid. “And my mom will kill me when she finds out. I’m not sure what I’m going to do and I ....” She picked up the tea and took a long gulp. The heavenly taste kept her tears at bay for the moment. There was no way she was going to cry in front of Finn.
He waited for her to finish. She took another sip of the drink and continued.
“And I have things I need to tell you because you seem to understand me on a level not many people do. Well, two people. You and Jesse.”
Finn nodded.
“Jesse is my boyfriend.”
“I thought as much.”
She looked down at her feet and noticed her nail polish was almost worn off. She always painted her toenails red—the same red Evelyn had used on her nails. When she looked up at Finn, he was peeking into the uncovered pot on the back burner.
“Noodles,” he said, smiling as steam rose up around his face.
Naomi rushed forward. “I need to check them.” She snatched a spaghetti spoon and leaned past Finn so she could reach the pot. He didn’t move as she twirled the spoon and caught some noodles.
“Want me to get out of the way?” he asked, grinning down at her.
With the spoon still poised over the pot, she looked up at him and realized he was close enough for her elbow to brush against him. He smelled like almond cake. She asked herself for the hundredth time why she had let him come over for dinner.
“No, I’m good,” she said, backing away with the spoon raised in the air. She looked at the dangling noodles dripping hot water onto the floor. The ends were beginning to turn white, which meant they were done. She lifted the spoon above her mouth and took a bite. “Perfect,” she mumbled, chewing. As soon as she noticed Finn watching her with a huge grin on his face, she turned away. “Can you drain the pot in the sink? There’s a colander already in there.”
Sure.”
Fumbling her way around the kitchen, she let Finn help her set the table and dish up the food. When they were both seated, she put her hands on her knees and took a deep breath. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t screw up. She wasn’t going to hide anymore. She was going to tell Finn the truth, trusting he would understand and be there for her when nobody else could be. She hoped confiding in him would show him how highly she thought of him. His eyes were on her. He unfolded his napkin and set it on his lap. She let out her breath and picked up her fork. “Let’s eat.”
He smiled. “Excellent.” After his first bite, he leaned forward and licked his lips. “Amazing, Naomi. It’s better than a restaurant.”
She laughed. “Thanks. Maybe I should teach you some cooking skills if you like it so much.”
“I’d love that.”
They kept eating. Naomi knew the spaghetti was nowhere near as good as Evelyn’s, but she kept trying to perfect it. It reminded her of the first time she had eaten it—not a good memory, but food seemed to be one of the things from her captivity she held on to with warm feelings. Perhaps her memory of how the spaghetti tasted was over-enhanced, but she was certain she would get it right someday. She watched Finn as he polished off one plate of spaghetti and dished up another.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, glancing at her as a sly grin crossed his face.
“Not at all. There’s nobody but us.” Resting her chin in her palm, she smiled at him. “So tell me about your promotion.”
“Oh, that!” He swallowed. “I’ve been there for about a year now, so when the assistant manager left, I applied for the position. I didn’t think Id get it.” He looked down at his clothes. “I mean, I was just a
waiter, and I don’t always present myself as super professional. Plus, there was no way I was going to cut my hair. But they didn’t seem to care about any of that. The last assistant manager was so clean and polished all the time. I thought that’s what they wanted.”
“You didn’t think you’d get it? Seriously?” She leaned back in her chair. “You’re so open with people, even if you think you’re a quiet person. You seem like a natural leader. And look, you even got me to open up and go out somewhere on my birthday. Do you have any idea how huge that is for me?”
He swallowed another bite of food as a frown spread across his face. “Actually, Naomi, I hope this doesn’t freak you out, but after the semester ended and you were gone, I tried to look you up online to see if I could find you on Facebook.”
She stopped breathing for a moment. It didn’t freak her out that he had tried to find her, but she knew typing in her name would pull up hundreds of links about her. All those news articles and TV clips—most of them she had never watched, and didn’t want to. She closed her eyes. “I’m not on any social networks. I deleted everything I could after I ... I ... that’s what I was going to tell you. I—”
“Yeah, I found out about what happened to you.”
She opened her eyes. “So now you know who Jesse is. Now you’re going to think I’m some sort of—”
His change of expression cut her off. He looked concerned.
“I have no idea what you’re going through,” he said, setting down his fork. “I understand now what you meant by the train tracks when you said you couldn’t be with him. I thought you meant he was going to university somewhere else, in another state or something. But he’s in—”
“He was in prison. He’s on parole now.”
“Right, but I take it you’re still not allowed to see him.”
“No.”
“And that’s hard for you.”
She nodded. Finn seemed to be waiting for her to speak. It was his patience with her that opened her up, she realized.
Pieces (The Breakaway #2) Page 7