It Had to Be You

by Lizzy Charles

  “Yes, sir.” I roll in my lips, hating when he uses West Point against me. Going there has been my dream since I first remembered watching Dad put on his uniform.

  “And then you’ll be homeless, all for a joke. Because, believe me, I will not be supporting you if you get kicked out of West Point. What were you thinking today?”

  “I was trying to have a little fun.”

  He shakes his head, and when he shifts, I see the photo of my mom he still has on the shelf in his office. She’s posed wearing a pink leotard and tights on the tips of her slippers, elegantly reaching outward while balancing on one leg.

  “James, I’m not a fool. You were not chasing a laugh. Remember, I was once just like you. You were trying to remind everyone that you’re cool.”

  “It’s not like I’m selling weed or doing anything illegal.” I press my palm against the cool countertop, willing my frustration to pass through it rather than show on my face. One wrong facial expression, and I’m doomed.

  “Hacking into a server is against the law, James.”

  My eyes burn from how hard I’m working not to roll them. “It’s not the CIA’s server. I’m not hurting anyone when I do it.”

  “Actually, you are. First, your aunt, and second, the school’s server hosts all private student information.”

  Julie closes her eyes tight and groans. “Peter, don’t give him any ideas.”

  Dad points at the screen. If smoke were pouring from his ears, I wouldn’t even attribute it to a Snapchat filter. “If you hack into any confidential information, I will turn you in to the police myself. Do you remember Uncle Brady?”

  “You let your own brother rot in jail for a week after his DUI.”

  “Exactly. And I love you enough to do the same to you if I have to.”

  “Dad, I’m not going to end up in jail, and you know I have no intention of breaking into any student files. I know wrong from right, and that’s not okay.” I glance at Julie. A little backup would be nice right now. “Julie, I lived at your house the last three summers. All of your computers have the same password, Woodworth—what is that by the way?—the point is, if I wanted to hack into the system to get information, I would have done it long ago. That stuff doesn’t interest me.”

  He shifts closer to the screen. “What does interest you though, James? Other than ‘pranks’?”

  “Football. West Point. I spent my entire summer straightening out. I basically hung out with Julie’s foster kid, read books, and threw a football. That’s it.”

  Julie clears her throat. “I have to stand by James. He did more than his fair share of chores, kept out of trouble, and even finished his essays before summer ended.”

  “James, you understood my rules. Your summer behavior does not negate what you did today.” He shrugs, his shoulders relaxing.

  A deep terror grips my rib cage. The moment he starts cooling off, it means his decision is already made.

  “Come on, Dad. I’m sorry! West Point will never accept a student from an online high school. Don’t do this to me.”

  “Fine. I’ll enroll you in the public school near my apartment.”

  “Peter, isn’t that a little drastic?” Julie says softly. “He’s nine months away from graduation. Hannah wouldn’t want—”

  Dad slams his fist on his desk. “Don’t tell me what my wife would or would not have wanted, Julie. You’ve helped me greatly by hosting James during high school, but he is my son. Hannah was the love of my life and would have stood by my side.”

  Julie nods, stepping away from the video monitor. A tear rolls down her cheek. She’s been more of a parent to me the last four years than Dad has for sure. He’s always halfway around the world. All my life, she’s been the closest thing I’ve had to a mother. Sometimes I think Dad forgets that when he lost Mom, Julie lost her sister.

  “Dad.” My stomach sinks as I realize that not only will I be losing Brockmore, I’ll be losing Julie. And she’d be losing me. “I can’t leave Brockmore.”

  “It’s not your decision, son.”

  “Hear me out.” I hold up my hand, my heart thrashing in my chest. This better work. “Edelweiss and I have been getting to know each other online for about a month, and well… We hit it off.” It was only a partial lie. “I like her. She says what she’s thinking. It’s nice. I asked her out.”

  Dad’s groan echoes off the walls of his office. “Tell me you’re kidding, James Matthew.” He drags his palms over the sagging skin of his cheeks when I don’t answer. “Why did you have to drag her into this?”

  “You were the one who gave me her email address and encouraged me to reach out to her. It’s not my fault that she’s awesome.”

  Hm. Wonder what today would have been like if I really had emailed her? Doubt Emma would have been able to get away with that prank. I could have prepared her for Brockmore, protected her.

  “Ambassador Lee will hate me if you hurt his daughter.”

  “I don’t want to break up with her, Dad, but if I move to upstate New York, it wouldn’t be fair to her. I promised to be there for her this year, and I can’t do that through a computer screen. She deserves better.” I press my lips together, hoping he doesn’t take offense to the fact that our relationship is mostly spent on screen.

  Julie steps back on camera, the evidence of her tears wiped away. “Peter, I blew today’s situation out of proportion. If it had been any other student pulling this prank, I would not have notified the parents. This is something that should be dealt with between the administration and the student.”

  Dad leans back in his chair. We both hold our breath, waiting for the verdict.

  “Fine,” he grumbles. “One more chance. Don’t make me regret this James, and do not make a mess of your relationship with the ambassador’s daughter. The last thing I need is to get a call from his office because you made his daughter cry.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Treat her with respect, the way I treated your mother.”

  His words feel like he’s taking a pile of linebackers off my back. Air moves through my lungs easier. “Absolutely. Thank you, Dad.”

  “Julie? Can we speak tomorrow? I believe I owe you an apology, but right now I think we’re all too wound up, and I fear my words won’t find the right place. But know I appreciate all you’ve done for me and James.”

  Julie smiles softly. “Have a good night, Peter. I’ll take care of things on this end.”

  “You always do.” The screen returns to his circular photo on Julie’s contact list after Dad ends the call.

  A sigh of relief escapes my chest. “Thank you so much.”

  She leans against the counter. “We still need to talk about consequences.”

  Anything is better than leaving Brockmore. I know it’s hard for her to pin the stables on some of the other students because their parents call and complain, so that’s always where she puts me. Plus, I sort of like the company of the horses. They’ve got these wise eyes that make them easy to talk to.

  Not that I’d ever tell anyone I do.

  “The stables, all year. I’m on it. Pretty sure if I didn’t show up to muck out the stalls on Saturday morning your horses would freak out. They’ve grown to like me.”

  “Well, then perhaps we need to add an extra level of discipline. I want you to take on more responsibility within the walls of Brockmore. Show everyone the boy I know. Once people get to know the real you, no one will expect you to constantly be ‘on’ and your temptation to impress will be eliminated. All of our other students are involved in some type of council or club, except you.”

  “I’m captain of the football team.”

  “But that’s like breathing for you. It’s not a challenge. How about joining student council this year? We’re missing a voice to represent the senior boys.”

  Of course they lack a voice. No one wants to be on the council. Who wants to wake up three days a week for six a.m. meetings to decorate poster boards for food drives and p
lan dances?

  Julie claps her hands. “It’s a perfect solution. Having you on the council may change the way it’s viewed.”

  “Don’t do this to me, Julie. It’s a bunch of kids who don’t know how to wash their faces and think fun is defined by bocce ball and free popcorn.”

  “James, I hereby sentence you to student council.”

  “Does this mean I don’t have to work in the stables?”

  She laughs. “James, no one can muck out a stall like you.”

  Right. Well, at least I’ll have my horse therapy for the year. “I’ll be there then.” I slip off my stool to raid her fridge. As always, she’s stocked it with my favorite salami and cheese. As I slice it up for a quick snack before heading back to the dorms, there’s an uneasy pull in my chest. Almost like the one I feel before a big play, like the entire game is riding on me.

  Hopefully Edelweiss’s offer to “fake date” still stands. If not, I’m doomed.

  Chapter Seven

  Edelweiss

  “Yup. Now we’re talking.” Tuti tucks her iPad and notebook under her arm while she checks me out.

  “Are you sure this isn’t too short?” I gaze down at my blue pleated skirt, which Tuti insisted I roll up.

  “As long as it’s an inch past your fingertips, you’re fine.”

  “But it originally sat at my knees.”

  “Listen, you may not care about Emma targeting you, but I do. There’s no way I can let you walk into the dining hall looking like you’re a schoolgirl from the 1930s. Just because we all wear uniforms doesn’t mean we can’t look cute.” She picks up the Brockmore Academy brochure I’ve opened and closed a hundred times. “Even in the brochure the girls are rolling up their waistbands. And—what?—this thing has to be at least ten years old. Cuffed socks. No one would be caught dead rolling their socks.”

  “Okay, okay.” I smooth out my white blouse, studying myself in the mirror. Butterflies zoom through my stomach while I apply a light layer of lip gloss.

  The simple freedom of putting on makeup without seeing my dad’s eyebrows raised is glorious. I even put on eyeliner, because why not?

  Now I can scratch Wear too much makeup for fun off my list. Win!

  While we walk out of the dormitory, a few of the senior girls study me, but no one stares. My heart falls into a steady rhythm on the way down the stairs. Maybe yesterday’s events are already old news.

  Below, the atrium is bustling with the school fair. “How many activities is it normal to join?”

  “Are you serious?” Tuti laughs, brushing her hand along the handrail of the grand stairway while we descend.

  “I don’t want to join too many and look foolish, or not join enough and look lazy.”

  “Don’t overthink everything, Edelweiss. Join what you want to do, and no one will think you’re strange.” She plucks a handout off the table. “Here’s a list of all the organizations.”

  Biking club. Horseback riding. Student council. Art club. Film club. The list goes on and on. “But I want to do all of this. How much is manageable with the academic schedule?”

  “Okay, first, you need to stop asking questions like that. If you act like an outsider, people will treat you like an outsider. Second…” She sighs, fixing my collar. “I wouldn’t join more than two activities at a time. Like I plan to sign up for art club and running club. That’ll give me three morning runs a week with a place to hang out every Thursday night in the art studio. It’s all about balance.”

  “So two things?”

  “It’s a good place to start.” She waves at Jordan, who’s juggling tennis balls near a sorry-looking sign-up sheet. “He’s the proud president of the juggling club.”

  “There’s a juggling club?”

  “Yeah.” She shakes her head with a smile. “I’m going to go see if he managed to wrangle any freshman into his grasp this year. You good?” She shifts away, obviously wanting some time to herself.

  “I’m good.”

  “Meet you after math for lunch?”

  “Near the front steps, right?”

  “Yup.” She snatches the tennis ball Jordan tosses at her.

  The atrium bustles with people zipping around tables. Only the freshmen and I linger in the middle, studying the list.

  “Hey, Edelweiss!” When I look up, my heart catches in my throat. James pauses at the head of the stairs, owning that navy-blue Brockmore blazer better than any guy in school. He jogs down the steps. “Look at you, all Brockmore’d up. Very nice.”

  “Thanks?” I glance back down at my paper.

  “Are you still planning to run for student council?” he asks.

  “Yeah, and I’m thinking I may do the film club. What do they do?”

  “They get to pick the free movies for students every Friday night and probably geek out about the Sundance Film Festival.”

  I raise my eyebrow. Film is obviously not his forte. “Sounds good to me.”

  “So you’re a film geek?” He follows me over to the table that’s currently empty except the sign-up paper.

  “Not yet.” I scribble my name on the paper. “But maybe someday. What did you sign up for?”

  “I was thinking about student council.”

  “Really?” I glance over at the table under the student council banner, noting how no one but a group of scrawny kids that can only be freshmen hover around it, and that may be by accident.

  “Come on.” He tugs my hand. Just like yesterday, the warmth of his palm on my skin somehow awakens my hand to its own existence. “Let’s sign up together.”

  The room shifts the moment James steps up to the student council table. Everyone’s eyes are on him and murmurs float around us while he writes down his name. I sign up next, and when I turn around, three more people have lined up behind me.

  “Excuse me,” he says politely, stepping to the side to let another student take his place at the table.

  Does he even realize how much power he has here?

  He adjusts his leather bag on his shoulder. “Did you eat breakfast yet?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ll tell you what to avoid. Never fall for the grits. They look nice and creamy, but the chef ads so much salt that you’ll feel like you’re moving through molasses for a day.”

  I cock my head. Why on earth would he want to have breakfast with me after yesterday? “You don’t have to do this.”

  He groans. “Come on.”

  “I don’t want to be your charity case, James,” I whisper while I follow him down toward the dining hall. “You can eat with your friends. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “I want to eat with you. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, plus…” He nods toward the girls giggling against the wall. “I’m starting to realize how having you at my side could be beneficial.”

  Whoa. My neck warms. Maybe I’ll be able to survive Brockmore after all. The smells of bacon and maple syrup greet me before I even step foot in the dining hall. White linens still cover the tables, but the fancy centerpieces have been removed.

  “Are you reconsidering my proposition?” I ask.

  “Nope.”

  My confidence deflates. Back to keeping my head low. Now I know what a balloon feels like.

  He hands me a plate before conquering the buffet, piling his plate so full of baked goods and eggs that it looks like a giant breakfast volcano. I try to make sure my choices compensate for his gross serving size, a meager helping of eggs and fruit. After seeing my parents work so hard to fight child malnutrition, I’m pretty sure I’ll strangle him if any of that lands in the trash.

  “I already had football practice this morning and ran three miles,” he explains when he sits down across from me, catching me eyeing his food like he plundered it from an orphanage. “Breakfast is my main meal. Water, milk, or juice?” he asks.

  “Water.”

  “On it.” A moment later he returns with a glass of water for each of us, plus an additional cup of milk for him
self. “So, yesterday was unique.”

  “A nice word for it.” I nibble on some cantaloupe, restraining myself from the tempting need to click my thumb joint. “Did you get in trouble for the prank yesterday?”

  “Nearly eaten alive.” He winces. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “What happened?”

  “My dad decided to pull me from Brockmore.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” My fork clinks against my plate as I set it down.

  “It’s okay.” He sips from his glass. “I convinced him to let me stay.”

  “How?”

  “Well, this is where your idea comes back into play.”

  What? He better not be kidding. I lean in. “I thought you weren’t reconsidering.”

  “That’s because I’ve already made a decision.” He gets up and drags his plate over so he’s sitting next to me. He whispers. “My dad won’t dare drag me out of Brockmore because he thinks we’re dating. He doesn’t want to piss off your father.”

  He told his father before he even told me.

  I turn to him and take a deep breath. The question I’m about to ask is direct. Perhaps too direct, but I don’t care at this point. The last ten minutes he’s led me through a web of too much nuance. “So are we dating?”

  “We are now. I failed to see your brilliant vision yesterday, but I get it now. This will be perfect. We’ll both be left alone to enjoy the year our own way, and I won’t have to move to upstate New York.”

  “Right.” My feet jitter under the table as I wrap my mind around what’s happening. I have a boyfriend. Well, a fake boyfriend, but still! There will be dates and stuff, which means I’ll be able to check first date off my list before the month is up.

  “Will you be my girlfriend?” He turns to face me, his eyes doing that thing where they seem to be searching every inch of my soul. Not fair.

  I can’t help but smile. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to watch Emma eat you alive just because you’re beautiful.”