by Lauren Kunze
OK froze for a split second, appearing panicked, before he seized Dana and kissed her on the lips, too. “Celebrating!” he cried. “Because I love—winning!”
Dana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking livid. “Adam will hear about this,” she threatened. “That is above and beyond what I ever—never…” Shaking her head, she stalked off.
“Attends!” Mimi cried after her. “Who will be my partner pour le deuxième match?”
“I will!” Vanessa volunteered, racing over to Mimi as fast as her wedges could carry her.
“Uh, hey, nice to meet you, man,” Tyler said to Matt, shaking his hand again before picking up the beanbags. “And good luck.”
“Er—thanks,” said Matt. “You know, she’s a real firecracker, I’ve always said—”
“Come on,” Callie interrupted, pulling Matt away. “We’ll be watching from over there,” she added to Tyler.
A few of the bystanders had set up some white folding chairs on the sidelines. “Here, take my seat,” one of the seniors, a guy who seemed vaguely familiar, said to Callie, standing.
“Oh no,” she said. “I couldn’t.”
“I insist,” he said, flashing her a smile that showed all of his teeth.
“But my friend—”
“I think I’ll go catch up with Dana, actually,” said Matt. “If you don’t mind, that is?”
“No,” said Callie, “of course not. See ya later,” she added, sinking into the seat at which the senior still expectantly gestured.
“Have we met before?” he asked, smiling again as the second game began.
“I do feel like maybe I’ve seen you somewhere….” She tried to place his face, distracted by the sight of Lexi and Clint. It looked like they were fighting—again—especially when Lexi stormed off, headed indoors. Breaking away from a nearby group, Alessandra quickly followed her—to offer consolation, most likely, since these days it seemed those two were thick as thieves. “I’m Callie, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you Callie, I’m J—”
“Jeffrey?” she interrupted, vaguely remembering seeing a senior of similar height and build slipping out of Vanessa’s bedroom during the first week of school.
“Jeremy,” he corrected her. “But don’t worry: I get that all the time. My cousin Jeffrey goes here, too, and we’re practically twins.”
“Oh,” said Callie, watching a beanbag fly through the air. “I think that must be it.”
“So you’ve…met Jeffrey, huh?”
“Ye—no!” She laughed, realizing his implication. “I mean, yes, but only through my roommate.”
“Good,” he said.
They watched for a few more minutes in silence, during which neither team scored any points. Callie yawned.
“Bored?” asked Jeremy.
“No, just tired,” said Callie. “You know: reading period, finals, internships—life?”
“Sounds like someone’s a little more stressed than she should be on a gorgeous day like today.”
Callie smiled ruefully. “For some reason I never seem to find these types of parties relaxing.”
“Well, then, how about we get out of here, I buy you a real drink, and we can go relax somewhere else—like back at my place?”
Callie burst out laughing.
“It was worth a try,” he said, laughing, too.
“God, does that ever actually work?” she asked.
“You’d be surprised,” he answered. “And now, if you would answer a few simple questions for a feedback survey,” he went on, miming holding a clipboard. “You: a) have a boyfriend, b) don’t find me attractive—”
“I have a boyfriend,” Callie said quickly, opting for the Vanessa way out. Option B would have also been a lie anyway, since he was attractive—in a tan, blond, distinctly not-Gregory kind of a way. Callie sighed. Would there ever come a time when she might stop inadvertently comparing every guy that flirted with her to him? Stop hallucinating his face in a crowd? Stop clinging to that final shred of hope and accept the inevitable: that Gregory would most likely never, ever, be—
“Oh yeah,” Jeremy was saying, examining her face. “You’re that IM soccer chick who’s dating Bryan what’s-his-face, you know, from the Fly?”
“Uh…what?” asked Callie.
“Yeah,” he said, “I just saw a picture of you two on the front page of the sports section last week about to go at it on the field!”
“What?”
“You didn’t see it?” he asked. “Aw, you need to get your hands on a paper because it’s actually totally cute—you’re on the ground and he’s holding you and there’s some clever caption like ‘Lovers Face Off for Playoffs’ or something—”
“Uh—yes,” said Callie, just to shut him up. “That’s us.” It appeared that Grace had not been exaggerating two days ago when she’d announced that the editorial board was now “officially in shambles.” Apparently Lexi’s regime no longer required basic fact-checking. One simple phone call to Callie and she could have confirmed that she was not dating Bryan, as Jeremy—and who knows who else—had assumed….
Callie gasped.
“Hey—where are you going?”
Callie ignored him, racing over to where Vanessa stood, readying to toss her beanbag. “Vanessa!”
“What?” asked Vanessa, irritated at the interruption.
“That article—the one about the date auction—did it imply that Bryan and I were, like, romantically involved?”
“What article…Oh.” Vanessa made a face. “That article. Yeah. I think it did. But it was also very clear that almost everything in the article was totally made up. Pure—gossipy—trash. I mean, I think it even misattributed and misquoted some of the things that I said about Gregory…. What? Why do you look like you have to pee and there’s no bathroom?”
“Just—give me your iPhone for a second, would you?”
“Don’t you have a new phone now?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have the internet!”
“Okay, god, calm down,” said Vanessa, handing over her phone. “That applies to you guys, too!” she yelled at Tyler and his teammate, who had been signaling at her to throw the beanbag, and Mimi, who was tapping her foot impatiently.
It didn’t take long for Callie to find the article she was looking for. There it was: the caption about her and Bryan being “lovers,” just like Jeremy had said, underneath a photograph that actually kind of made it look like they were. “Oh my god,” said Callie, her fingers flying across the screen as she searched for the Society Pages article.
“I know, right?” asked Vanessa. “We are totally about to win.”
“Oh…my…god…” Callie repeated, reading the words on the screen.
“Quoi?” asked Mimi. “Ce qui s’est passé?”
“I gotta go,” said Callie, thrusting the phone at Vanessa.
“Where—hey—why?”
“I’ll explain later!” Callie called, racing toward the back gate. Bursting out onto Garden Street, she ran without stopping until she reached Wigglesworth.
“What are you doing home so soon?” asked Dana, looking up when the door to the common room flew open.
Callie leaned against the wall, struggling to regain her breath. “Had to—just realized—need to talk—to Gregory.”
“Gregory?” Dana repeated. “Is he back?”
Clutching a stitch in her side, Callie shook her head. “Have to find—a way to get—a message through.”
“How?” asked Dana. “Did he reactivate his phone line? Or his e-mail?” She suddenly looked sheepish. “I overhear things…through the walls sometimes—without meaning to.”
Callie shook her head. “No,” she said. “And I don’t know how I’m going to get through to him. I already tried everything, and none of it worked. I guess…” Her eyes grew wide. “I guess I’ll just have to go to New York!”
“New York?” Dana echoed, following Callie into her bedroom.
“Yes!” sai
d Callie, flinging open her closet and reaching for her gym bag. “I’ll go to New York. Now what should I pack?” she muttered, turning to her dresser.
“Is that—such a good idea?” asked Dana, hovering near her bed. “How are you even going to get there?”
“I don’t know. Bus?” said Callie, tossing a sweatshirt into the bag. “I think they leave every hour from South Station….”
“But where will you stay?”
“I don’t need a place to stay,” Callie insisted. “I just need to find Gregory and then everything else will…work out. Somehow.”
Slowly Dana shook her head. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve thought this through.”
“Maybe not,” said Callie, “but there isn’t any time!”
“Why not?”
“Because there just—isn’t!”
“Stop,” said Dana, her tone shifting from gentle to forceful. “Drop the bag, sit down, and look at me.”
Callie obeyed, sinking onto her bed.
Dana sat next to her. “Now what, pray tell, is the rush?”
“I think Gregory thinks that I started dating someone else the second he left—and that I told a reporter for the school magazine that I don’t want him now that he’s poor! That’s why he suddenly stopped trying to reach me! That and because my phone broke. But all those calls from the restricted line to Vanessa’s phone afterward were from before that article about the date auction, too! And of course, the soccer photos appeared, and—well, who knows what else!” Callie cried, trying to explain. Dana listened patiently, but her demeanor somewhat resembled a nurse listening to the rants of a feverish patient.
“So don’t you see?” Callie pleaded. “I have to go to New York so I can explain it all and then he can finally break up with Alessandra and we can…finally…”
Dana rested a hand on Callie’s back. “Gregory left in a huge hurry,” she said finally. “He didn’t have time to break up with his lady friend or leave you anything more than that Post-it note. I—understand how hard that must have been, how hard it must still be. So it’s only natural to want to believe that there must have been something more, some great misunderstanding, perhaps, with an equally grand deus ex machina type of explanation.”
Dana cleared her throat. “But things don’t always turn out the way they do in stories. Sometimes real life and real troubles like Gregory’s get in the way, and real people just don’t have time to write secret love letters confessing everything. Like that character in your book you like so much.” Dana nodded at the volume on the nightstand before continuing, insisting that God had a plan and that waiting patiently was actually the fastest way to a resolution.
But Callie was no longer listening. Reaching for the copy of Persuasion, she flipped through the pages until she found the section that she had volunteered to read not one week earlier. Her bookmark had only been a chapter away. In a few days she would have found it—although it might have been many weeks earlier if she’d been smarter, or less preoccupied.
“What are you doing?” asked Dana. “Are you okay?”
Tears were pouring down Callie’s face. “Read it,” she said, handing the book to Dana with trembling fingers.
“What—”
“Just read it,” Callie insisted.
“Fine,” Dana conceded, spreading the book across her lap.
“Wow,” Dana said softly, setting down the book. Grabbing a tissue from the nightstand, she blew her nose loudly. “Allergies,” she muttered, wiping her eyes.
“I knew it,” Callie whispered. “I knew it all along! Dana,” she cried, leaping to her feet, “I could kiss you!”
“Please—don’t,” said Dana. “One from OK was already bad enough as it is.”
“All right,” said Callie, giggling deliriously and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Well, then—wish me luck!”
“Good lu—wait. You’re not still entertaining the idea of going to New York, are you? When your hearing’s less than a week away? And, last I checked, you still don’t have any idea who…” She gestured at the bulletin board, which had started to look like the work of a conspiracy-theory-driven madman.
Callie opened her mouth to protest, but Dana pressed on. “What about finals? Reading period is supposed to be for studying, not spontaneous trips to—Well, do you even know exactly where it is that you’re going?”
“No.” Callie froze in her doorway. “But it can’t be too far from that PO Box address….”
“Why not just write to him,” Dana pleaded, “like his note suggests?”
“Because I can’t bear to wait another minute knowing that he thinks—that I think—when I know—that he doesn’t know—I just need to clear it all up and now!” Callie cried. “I’m sorry, but I’ll just have to explain it better when I get back! Please tell Mimi and Vanessa—”
“Tell us what?” Vanessa called from the common room. She and Mimi had just returned from the party.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Dana muttered. “I never thought I would say this but—I need you two to talk some sense into her!”
“Qu’est qui ce passe?” asked Mimi, starting for Callie’s bedroom. “Why did you quit the party très rapidement?”
“Yes, and why does it look like you’re about to run away from home,” Vanessa asked, “wearing my Tory Burch dress?”
Too flustered to speak, Callie handed Vanessa Persuasion while Dana summarized what had transpired.
“But why should she not go to New York maintenant?” asked Mimi. “Even if you do not locate him, you can return within a day or two—je sais, je sais,” she added grumpily to Dana. “Mais un ou deux jours sans studying never killed anyone’s grandma, and perhaps un petit voyage c’est exactement what she needs for the brain clearing to attraper the Insider!”
Slowly Vanessa shook her head. “Believe it or not, I agree with Dana. Even if you didn’t have less than a week left until your hearing, not to mention finals, and even if you did know where to find Gregory, I still don’t think now is a good time to go to New York.” Setting down Persuasion, she sighed. “It’ll probably be all over the papers later tonight, but according to the latest update from that tireless gossip-whore otherwise known as my mother, the SEC hearings start tomorrow.
“Essentially,” Vanessa continued, placing a hand on Callie’s shoulder, “it’s like being on trial except without the handcuffs. The proceedings could entail”—she cringed—“months of testifying, all day every day, and given certain confidentiality issues, you can bet the lawyers have Gregory and his dad locked in a hotel somewhere not even the most ruthless reporters could find them.”
Wailing, Callie flung herself onto the bed. Every ounce of adrenaline-induced energy evaporated instantaneously. She resolved never to move again.
“There, there,” said Dana after a beat. “‘Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.’”
“Um…yeah,” said Vanessa. “Like Journey and the D-meister said, ‘Don’t stop believin’.’ You just need to be patient, get through your hearing, and let Gregory and his dad get through theirs. And in the meantime you could still try writing him that letter….” She stood, digging through the desk until she found paper and pens.
“Oooh, c’est romantique!” exclaimed Mimi. “Let us hope that he has not ceased to check le bureau le poste because you have been having des relations sexuelles avec Bryan.”
“What?” Callie shrieked, sitting up. “I have not been having des relations—I mean, sexual relations with Bryan!”
“Oh,” said Mimi. “Pourquoi pas? And why, then, have you been checking in all over the Facebook?”
“What are you—ohdearaghgghwww!” Callie groaned, covering her eyes. “You don’t think—there’s any way that—I mean, his profile’s been deactivated, right?”
“Here,” said Dana, handing Callie the envelope and stamp she’d just retrieved from her room. “Explain the mix-up, mail the letter, and then pray.”
“Amen,” said Vanessa. “Hopeful
ly then you can stop obsessing.”
“And start obsessing sur votre upcoming expulsion!”
“MIMI!” Vanessa and Dana yelled at her.
“Désolé.”
“No,” said Callie. “Mimi’s right. You guys are, too. Send the letter—then focus on staying in school,” she muttered, sitting at her desk and starting to write: about how she was never involved with Bryan or anyone else, and had never said those things at the date auction that the magazine had printed. Finally, on her third page now, she finished with an account of how she might have only one more week left at school.
Then she stuck the pages in the envelope and kissed the back for good luck. “So, um…how exactly does one go about sending snail mail these days?”
“Uh…” said Vanessa.
Mimi shrugged.
“Seriously?” Dana blinked. Shaking her head, she said, “Come on. I’ll take you to the nearest mailbox.”
TWELVE
The Birkin List
THE BIRKIN LIST
• Attend a Crew race
• Go to at least ONE Harved museum
• Go to freshman formal with an actual freshman
• Pee on the John Harvard statue
• Jump off Weeks Bridge into the Charles River
• Sit in on at least THREE classes taught by famous professors
• Turn in Callie’s short story
• Use all the money left on Harvard ID to buy candy from Greenhouse Café
• Eat in every house dining hall
• Have a slumber party in the common room
• One last scorpion bowl at the Kong