An Education in Ruin

by Alexis Bass

  “But what, Jasper?”

  Before he manages to speak, the server comes to collect our plates. The lights dim. A clear hint to remind us that the restaurant is open specially for us but ready to shut down officially now.

  We walk down the corridor and get into the elevator. He presses the button for floor ten, and I press the button for floor eight. Piano music flows from the speakers.

  I can feel the night winding down and coming to a close, and now that I’m full, I feel exhausted and ready for sleep. But Jasper brought it up again, us getting to know each other, what I said about him to Theo over Thanksgiving break that Theo shared with him. If he wants to let me in little by little, I’ll have to pull as much from him as I can.

  “Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?”

  He looks altogether disheveled. Not quite as bad as when he wasn’t sleeping at all, but he does seem beat, physically and mentally. His guard might come down a little simply because he’s too tired to keep it up.

  He crosses his arms, like even though he says he wants me to know him, he doesn’t like that I asked this about him, a branch of something I’ve learned about him already. “No. Probably not for a while.”

  “I bet I won’t be able to fall asleep right now either since I slept so much on the way here. Not to brag.”

  He smiles as he nods. He looks down at his watch as he says, “I was planning to swim.”

  “The pool is open?”

  “It’s open all night.”

  I wait to see if he’ll invite me. I can’t tell if he likes the prospect or if it makes him nervous.

  “Can I meet you?”

  “Yes,” he says without hesitation.

  Twenty-eight

  When I arrive, Jasper is already there. He’s sitting at the edge of the pool with his feet dangling in, leaning back on his palms, watching the falling snow stick to the slanted glass panels that make up the roof. The back wall of the room is made of glass, too, with a forest encroaching on the other side. The room is dark except for the dim blue lights under the water, so we can see outside through the windows, instead of our own reflections.

  When Jasper notices me, he smiles, gives a small, awkward wave, and then eases himself into the water. His shoulder are broader than I thought and he’s defined in a way that shows off how participating in all those athletics are doing him favors under his Rutherford uniform. I’m human, so I notice. I feel the slightest bit shy as I peel back my robe and join him in the pool. He tugs on a swim cap and goggles.

  “Oh, you wanted to really swim. Like, actually swim.” It makes me giggle that I didn’t figure this out. Of course when Jasper said he wanted to go to the pool, it wasn’t to lie listlessly in the water as I’d thought.

  “I brought extra goggles and an extra cap in case you wanted to use them.” He motions to the ledge of the pool where a blue cap and goggles are resting.

  “That’s okay.” I’m far too tired to swim the kind of intense strokes that would require a cap or goggles. Instead, I put my hair up and casually do the breaststroke, keeping my head above the water.

  Jasper pushes off the wall and swims freestyle. He goes fast, chasing the goal of wearing himself out.

  The water is crystal blue, thanks to the underwater lights. It was cold at first, but now it’s refreshing. Originally, I’d planned not to get my hair wet, but as I glide through the water, I think, Screw it. I plunge below the surface, moving my arms to keep me under. When I can’t hold my breath anymore, I come up. Next, I float on my back. I stare up at the glass ceiling. The snow has covered most of it, but since it’s angled, there are patches near the peak where the snow has slid away, and I can see the tops of the trees in the surrounding forest and bits of the night sky. It’s calming, all of it. Even the soft splashes in the distance from Jasper swimming. And then suddenly, I can’t hear them anymore. I stop floating and stand upright. He’s breathing heavily at the ledge as he peels off his goggles and swim cap, freeing all his damp curls. He turns and stares at me.

  “Did it work?” I say.

  He sinks down into the water so it’s hitting his shoulders and runs his hands over his face. “I think I have to try something else.” He slowly swims over to me. “That didn’t make me tired. It woke me up even more, if that’s possible.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  I catch sight of a bin in the far corner of the room, where there is a bundle of foam pool noodles. “Hey, I know what might work.”

  He asks, “What?” but I don’t answer him as I get out of the pool and walk to the bin. As my feet smack against the cement, and I feel the coolness of the air against my wet skin, I realize how exposed I am and hope he’s not looking me over the way I looked him over when I first arrived. There are not only foam pool noodles but also kickboards, sleek and rubbery, not like the chipped foam we had to use for swimming lessons when I was a kid. I start tossing items into the pool. A few kickboards and several of the foam noodles come raining into the water. I jump in after them, getting excited.

  “Maybe instead of trying to wear yourself out, you need to subdue yourself into relaxing.”

  “Maybe.” He sounds unconvinced, but he follows along with me as I instruct him on how to make a proper floatation device out of the kickboards and foam noodles, with noodles positioned under our legs, backs, shoulders, and heads, and kickboards for our arms and feet. It’s almost perfect, except it’s hard to keep the kickboards in place under our feet, and each time we try, they loosen and go shooting through the air. We laugh so hard, I feel almost as awake as Jasper does.

  Eventually, we settle into our contraptions, each of us holding on to the edge of the same noodle, so we can pull each other away from the wall when one of us floats too close.

  “Are you relaxed?” I say.

  “I guess.”

  “Then you must be doing something wrong. Are your muscles unclenched? Are you slowing your breathing? Is your mind clear?”

  He floats toward the wall, and I pull him closer. We bob and weave as our noodles gently collide before the water calms again.

  “I’m thinking about—actually, never mind.”

  “Oh, come on. Tell me.”

  It doesn’t take much pushing to get him to spill it, and I decide that’s a good sign.

  “You know when the boards under our feet flew through the air?”

  “Okay, yeah?”

  “Well, I’m—” He lets out a short laugh like he’s embarrassed. “I’m trying to calculate how big the board would have to be to launch one of us into the air. But it’s kind of relaxing, thinking about this.”

  “Math is relaxing to you?”

  “It’s actually physics—” He cuts himself off as though he can see the expression I’m making or he knows me well enough to know I’m rolling my eyes. “But it’s sort of relaxing, yeah.”

  “Relaxing because it’s a distraction?”

  “Yeah.”

  A few seconds pass, and he doesn’t say anything. I’m dying to pry, but I don’t want to be annoying or too pushy. Mostly, I want him to know that I get him, that I understand why trying to solve a physics equation is relaxing for him.

  “Is Rutherford really all that stresses you out?” he says.

  “Oh, sure, it’s only the most challenging academic program in the country—only that.”

  “I mean, there’s nothing else?”

  “Nope. My life is perfect.”

  I glance over at him. He nods, and I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he knows this isn’t the case.

  “Was that—was Rutherford what you were thinking about the first day we started going to the gym?”

  “The first day?” I’m not sure what he’s talking about.

  “Yeah. You were hitting the bag really hard, and you had this faraway look like you were somewhere else. And then you seemed like you were going to cry or scream or, I don’t know, explode, and you suddenly told us you had to
go and ran off.” He gives me a small smile. “So that was only about Rutherford, about exams, about math?”

  My throat gets tight, but I manage to smile. It surprises me that he’d noticed I was losing it that day, and that he remembered. “It’s actually calculus.”

  Sometimes you have to show vulnerability to get vulnerability back from someone—I knew that even before Rosie told me. It’s the reason you have to kneel on the ground to get a skittish goat to let you get close enough to put a lead on it. But Jasper’s already seen my weaknesses in adjusting to Rutherford. He doesn’t need the rest. He doesn’t need to know what happened to me the week before I met him or about the memories that made me run away from the gym that night. They’re mine to churn over, mine to live with.

  I tug on the noddle to bring him closer to me, even though he’s nowhere near the wall. He pulls me closer in return.

  Twenty-nine

  Jasper and I are side by side in the water, the noodles under our heads colliding. We’re unbelievably still. I let the tension settle around us; allow him to fully feel how it’s both comforting and unnerving to be near me like this.

  There’s a noise then: a low hiss of the door to the pool opening. We sit up, using the boards to support our arms. Rob James herself is standing there. Except she looks unlike I’ve ever seen her before. Her hair is in a high ponytail, stray pieces dangling past her forehead, her bangs pulled back. Her face is bare, no foundation or eyeshadow or mascara or lipstick. It reminds me how young she is, even though right now she’s dressed like a grown-up. She’s not in her trademark white and gold; she’s in a black silk robe that cuts off at her thighs and fuzzy red slippers. Her bodyguard isn’t with her. She stares at Jasper, glances only briefly at me.

  “I was hoping to catch you alone,” she says, her voice not at all timid. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  Jasper gets untangled from all the foam noodles and lets go of the boards. “How did you know I was here?” He sighs, aggravation showing on his face. “You can’t have me followed, Roberta.”

  Roberta.

  “I only need a few minutes.” She stays stoic, but there’s a hint of distress in her tone. A dent in her armor.

  “Now’s not a good time. We were about to leave.” He starts gathering the foam noodles and moving toward the ladder, glancing back at me to make sure I’m following him. I collect the foam noodles and boards, and I swim toward the ladder.

  I feel her eyes on me as I climb out of the pool behind Jasper. She watches as Jasper hands me a towel and holds my robe for me as I slip it on.

  “Are you going to introduce me to your guest?” she says, her voice cheery but still firm.

  “This is Jacob Pruitt’s daughter,” Jasper says.

  “Oh, of course.” She smiles at me, and it’s warm and genuine. “Your father is an integral part of our investment team. We’re so glad you could join us here at Hylift. Thanks for spending your holiday with us and lending your father’s time. You know how quickly things are moving at the company. We have to take advantage of this momentum!”

  I find myself smiling back, telling her I get it. “You and the company can have him every holiday if it means we get to vacation here,” I say. She has this effect. I want to reassure her that I understand the importance of what she’s doing—innovative, life-changing stuff. At the same time, I want her to know that I’m grateful, both for this destination spot and for her courage, building this company that’s going to make the world a better place when so many told her she was too young and too naïve.

  “It’s really great to meet you,” she says. She holds out her hand for me to shake, carrying herself like she’s in one of her white-and-gold power suits and not in a slinky robe.

  “Collins Pruitt,” I say.

  She smiles and nods at me like she already knew this, though I don’t think she did. “I take it you go to Rutherford with Jasper.”

  “I do,” I say.

  “It’s a great school.” She beams at us like she’s a proud alumna, excited to see the fellow legacies coming up behind her. “I hope to see you both around. We should hang out—if I ever get any downtime, that is.” She laughs, and I laugh because she’s laughing—her full and demanding schedule is hilarious in this instant since she’s declared it so. Jasper, however, does not laugh.

  After another friendly wave, we leave her in the pool area. But as I start toward the elevators, I realize Jasper’s not with me. I turn around and see him standing next to Rob, her hand gripping his arm.

  “Please,” she’s saying to him, her voice so low I can hardly hear her. “You have to talk to me sooner or later.” She sounds young as she says this. There’s no desperation in her voice, but something defenseless in the way she’s staring at him—her whole being softening.

  The look he gives her is so cold. “No, I don’t.”

  Her hand drops from around him, and I quickly exit, hoping she didn’t notice that I’d been watching.

  She was absolutely mesmerizing. I forgot, for a moment, to see this encounter for what it is. She’s here, in the middle of the night, looking for Jasper. She’s wearing a short silk robe. She was hoping to catch him alone.

  Jasper and I walk hurriedly to the elevators. He hits the button aggressively, like he’s worried she’s going to come out of the pool area before the elevator arrives. But when she emerges through the double doors, she doesn’t try to approach us. She passes us, giving me a tight courtesy smile before she continues down the hall and disappears around the corner.

  The elevator opens, and we step inside. I ask him, “Why won’t you talk to her?” I think of the way he’d bristled at her touch the evening she’d spoken at Rutherford and the regret he’d spoken of in the gym, how he wants to take back everything with her—someone so beloved by most who meet her, a genius and a star. In truth, I don’t want him to talk to her. That can’t be good for my cause. But I do want to know what they have to talk about—what she wants to tell him, what she believes is still between them.

  “It might make you feel better,” I say. “Closure or whatever.”

  “There’s nothing left for us to say to each other,” he says.

  “I don’t know, Jasper. She seemed like she had something she wanted to say to you.”

  He stares hard at the front of the elevator, making his irritation obvious.

  “She knows how to work a room,” he says, his eyes shifting to me for a moment. “No matter how small the audience.”

  I frown and cross my arms so he’ll understand that I picked up on his subtle insult—the insinuation that she performed for me just now and that whatever she did made me want to be on her side. Even if he’s right.

  “You don’t know her like I do,” he says. “She brings out the worst in me. If you knew what I did when I was with her, what I was like, you would tell me to stay as far away from her as possible.”

  What he did when he was with her? I’m dying to know.

  “Maybe if you tell me,” I say, keeping my voice casual, “I’ll reassure you it’s not so awful. It really might not be that bad. In the grand scheme of things.”

  He’s quiet, and for a second, I think it’s worked and he’s going to tell me whatever horrible thing he did when he was with her that’s probably part of, if not the reason he wants to take back their entire relationship, or whatever it was.

  “But what if it is that bad?” he says.

  “Maybe I’ll have advice.”

  “Maybe.” I think he’s only saying this to be polite.

  “Why did it end between you and Rob?” According to Anastasia, it’s common knowledge that he hates her, but what’s not known is why.

  He doesn’t say anything. The elevator stops on my floor.

  “You aren’t going to tell me?” I say. “Even if it means we don’t get to know each other any better?”

  I step out of the elevator and turn around when I hear him say my name.

  “Collins?” He sounds as unsure as I’v
e ever heard him. “I’m sorry.”

  The doors seal closed.

  Thirty

  I have a lot of questions rooting around in my head about Jasper and Rob James. To get closer to him, I feel like I need to understand this—whatever was between them and whatever makes him harbor so much regret. She was giving him his overview when it started. She was a senior when he was a sophomore, though I have seen his sophomore-year photos, and he’d had his growth spurt and a full jaw chisel by then. But what happened in the meantime, between when they got together and when it officially ended over the summer, to make him hate her. What did he do when he was with her that he’s still ashamed of? What makes him want to take back the whole thing? Is it something he did with her, or for her, or to her?

  A little after noon, I text Theo to meet me in the sky lounge. It’s the top floor of Hylift, connected to the aerial tram that takes skiers to the closest mountain. Theo’s sitting on a stool, eating fries at the counter in front of a window. I take a seat next to him.

  Our parents, as well as a slew of other board members who were also derailed in Chicago, arrived this morning. I had brunch with my dad, but he has meetings the rest of the day, so I’m pretty much on my own. Theo and Jasper are, too, even if the Mahoneys aren’t as involved in the company operations as my father is.

  Theo and I catch up for a bit and rejoice about how excited we are to be done with Rutherford finals. Neither of us mention that we have reading lists we could be tackling to prepare for the upcoming semester. I wait a while before I bring up what I really want to talk about.

  “What happened between Jasper and Rob James?”

  “You think I know any more than you do?” he says.

  “Theo.” I pat his hand. “I think you know all about it.”

  Theo takes his time swiping a long, greasy fry through a pile of ketchup. “I understand that Jasper and Rob James makes for some juicy gossip, but don’t you think it’s a little awkward to be discussing that now, when it’s completely over, and we’re here, at a gathering for her investors—a.k.a. our parents—who have lots of money tied up in her company?”