This was why Tree loved having Lori as a roommate—the thoughtful notes, the simple kindness. For weeks, she had hounded Tree about her birthday, and even when Tree had refused to divulge a single detail, she hadn’t seemed upset, only confused.
How could Tree explain why she didn’t want to celebrate this day? How could she articulate that all she really wanted was to skip her birthday for the rest of her time on this planet? But here was Lori, all smiles and excitement, having figured out how to give her this simple token of their friendship—exactly the thing a sister would always do.
Tree felt herself trembling on the edge of a sadness she would be unable to contain and made a decision not to allow the grief to overtake her. Reluctantly, she took the cupcake from Lori, closed her eyes for a moment, and blew out the candle.
“What’d you wish for?” Lori was all smiles.
Tree arched an eyebrow at her. “A new roommate.”
Lori laughed. “Wench!”
Tree considered the cupcake for a moment, dropped it without ceremony into the trash can by her desk, and opened the door to go.
“Hey!” Lori called after her. “I made that from scratch!”
Tree turned around and resumed her normal tone of bitch on wheels. “Sorry. Too many carbs.” She ignored Lori’s hurt look and headed into the hall. “Toodles!”
The look on Lori’s face made it clear she was disappointed, but Tree didn’t have time for anyone else’s disappointment. Her own sadness was too big—too threatening—and she had to keep paddling in her own direction to avoid being swept away by it altogether. There was one surefire way to keep it at bay, and that always began with a trip to the science building.
* * *
—
Dr. Gregory Butler was already well into his lecture when the door at the back of the classroom squeaked loudly, announcing Tree’s arrival. She was pleased to see he wasn’t wearing a lab coat. The way his snug, gray trousers hugged his butt was something that should never be covered, in her opinion. As she slipped into the back row, he turned his perfect, chiseled jaw her way and raised an eyebrow, his ice-blue eyes burning into her with an intensity that made her instantly weak in the knees. Tree was unsure if the look he gave her was a smile or a sneer, but she could work with either. He ran a hand through his perfect hair and continued to talk without missing a beat—something about extreme agitation and the acceleration of locomotive response across the quantum plane.
Tree could never be sure what he was talking about exactly, but she felt agitated and ready to respond—that much was certain. She was hopeless at science. It was why she’d started going to visit him during his office hours across campus at the Bayfield University Hospital in the first place.
She’d pop by this afternoon for a refresher.
3
When class let out, Tree walked toward the outdoor dining patio near the cafeteria where Danielle liked to hold their house meetings. On the way, she passed Keith Lumbly sweating it out in the Bayfield Baby mascot costume. The mask was pulled off his face and resting on his head as he hawked souvenirs for the Bayfield Booster Club.
If there was one downside to Bayfield University, it was their mascot. Whoever had once thought that a baby was a great idea for a college team representative must never have seen a horror movie. The mask resting on top of Keith’s head looked like Porky Pig with a human nose and an oversize baby bucktooth. The wide eyes and blank smile took on a bizarre, terrifying feel when worn on the face of a grown person. There was something deeply unsettling about it, and Tree hurried past the merch table, which was full of the weird baby’s face emblazoned on everything from T-shirts and flags to your very own masks. You could be a Bayfield Baby at games—or for whatever weird stuff you happened to be into.
Keith’s voice droned on in a bored monotone as she passed. “Get your school spirit on before the big game. Ten percent off with your student ID.”
He sounded as over it as she was.
Tree spotted her sisters gathered around a couple of tables with Danielle calling them all to order. Tree hurried over to take her seat. Danielle ran their lunch meetings with an iron fist. You would’ve thought they were all members of the UN Security Council. One of the pledges passed each of them a bottle of zero-calorie, fruit-flavored water. This was “lunch,” and Tree tried not to think about the fact that her father was probably sitting down at the country club, where she was supposed to be meeting him right this second.
Some things were more important than small talk with Dad over lunch, and putting in an appearance at the house meeting was one of them. Danielle could make your life a living hell if you missed one. Lori was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant she was still at the hospital. Danielle didn’t make exceptions—especially for work-study programs.
After a quick, cool welcome, Danielle called the meeting to order. The first item on the agenda was choosing this year’s charity.
“I can say right now, there is no way we’re doing the Special Needs Art Fair again,” Danielle began. “It totally freaked my shit out. Thoughts?”
Before anyone could answer, Becky Shepard plunked a lunch tray down next to Tree and slid in beside her. Every eye fell on her tray, which held a sandwich, a side of pasta salad, a fruit cup, and a tall glass of chocolate milk. Feeling the weight of their collective stares, Becky looked up with a confused smile.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Danielle said sarcastically. “What’s wrong, Tree?”
“Nothing,” Tree said, turning to Becky. “Except for the cat-lady buffet you just dumped on our table.”
Tree saw Becky look at her tray, then notice that everyone else was not eating. The look on her face turned to panic, but Danielle wasn’t done with the public shaming.
“And is that chocolate milk I see?” she asked.
“I missed breakfast.”
“What is breakfast, Becky?” Danielle’s question was a dagger thrown with precision. As it hit its mark, Becky jumped to her feet, grabbed her tray, and tried to escape from the torrent of shame.
Tree was barely able to snicker to herself before she felt an impact right behind her, followed immediately by the cold and sticky fingers of Becky’s chocolate milk splashing across her neck, head, and hair. She leaped to her feet and wheeled on Becky, yelling, “You asshole!” as she came face-to-face with Carter—the apparent cause of the collision.
Danielle was cackling at the scene. Becky fled in tears as Carter grabbed napkins from a dispenser on the table and attempted to dab at the mess all over Tree. Tree stood there, stunned, a sinking feeling gathering in her stomach.
“I’m so sorry, Tree!”
The minute the words left Carter’s mouth, Tree knew she was doomed. Danielle’s laughter stopped instantly, and her eyes narrowed.
“You two know each other?”
“No!” Tree shouted at the same moment Carter said, “Yes!”
Tree shot nuclear warheads with her eyeballs at the dweeb from the dorm, and she was relieved to see that he clearly remembered her threat from earlier. Carter froze, a fistful of napkins in mid-wipe, and started stammering.
“We, uh…we had a class together. Last year.”
Seemingly satisfied, Danielle continued giggling as the rest of the girls joined her, relieved that they weren’t in the crosshairs of the ice queen for once.
Tree used the moment to step behind Carter and out of Danielle’s direct view. She huffed and snatched the napkins from him, dabbing at the chocolate milk still running down the back of her neck into her sweatshirt. Carter leaned closer to her and held out his hand.
“I just came by to return this,” he whispered.
Tree glanced down and saw the gold bracelet her mother had given her for her birthday a few years ago. Shit. In her haste to escape this morning, she must’ve left it in his room.
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“I didn’t know where you lived.” Carter’s voice was pleading and apologetic.
Tree snatched the bracelet out of his hand and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, they hadn’t. She felt a strange emotion well up inside her. She didn’t know how to say thank you. This bracelet was so important to her, and Carter could just as easily have tossed it in the trash instead of taking the time to track her down and return it. The relief that washed over her made her eyes well up, but she couldn’t let on. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Danielle. Still, Carter lingered hopefully, waiting for the thank-you Tree could never deliver.
“Can I help you with something?” Her voice was hard as nails.
The cloud that darkened Carter’s eyes made her feel like a jerk, but now was not the time or the place. He backed away from her and shook his head, amazed by her coldness. Finally, he shrugged and stepped back.
“Sorry again about the mess.”
Tree watched him go, forgetting for a moment where she was. She wasn’t usually this person. Or was she? He had done something kind, and she was unwilling to acknowledge it. Was there ever a way to make him understand?
“What a douchebag.” Danielle’s voice pulled her back to the present.
Tree went back to her seat at the table. It took everything in her not to jump up again and chase Carter down. She wanted to explain that she couldn’t risk Danielle knowing what had happened between them. She didn’t know how to tell him that once she’d lost more than a bracelet on her birthday, but this was the same sorrow that made her lash out at his kindness. It was the only thing she could see.
As Danielle continued the house meeting, Tree knew there was only one thing that would get her through this terrible day. As soon as the meeting adjourned, she made a beeline for the Kappa house to get cleaned up.
4
A hot shower did wonders for Tree’s spirits. And by some birthday miracle of fate, Lori wasn’t back from her shift at the hospital yet, so Tree could bask in the luxury of having the room all to herself.
With Becky’s chocolate milk and last night’s eyeliner finally scrubbed away, Tree applied some fresh mascara and just a touch of lip gloss. By the time she’d finished a fresh blowout, she felt nearly human again.
It was still warm outside—an Indian summer in full swing—but a light breeze blew through her hair as she walked across campus through the ancient oaks, elms, and maples. No color yet, but within a few weeks or so the sky at Bayfield would be on fire with an explosion of yellows, oranges, and reds.
Autumn had always been her favorite time of year, and she couldn’t help but think about the first time her mom had taught her how to rake the fallen leaves in their front yard into fluffy piles—and then how to charge across the fading grass and dive into them. How old had she been? Four or five? She’d thought that they were doing an important chore, that her mom wanted a tidy yard without a single stray twig or a blade of grass out of place. It had been a surprise to her that, in the end, all that effort was about having fun.
That was her mom in a nutshell: she’d do anything to make Tree giggle.
As Tree walked into the lobby of the campus hospital, her cell phone jarred her back to reality.
Yeahhh! It’s my birthday, and I ain’t gotta pick up the phone!
She checked the screen and hit Ignore on the call from her dad. She had to remember to change her ringtone as soon as she got back to the house. Goddamn it, Lori.
She pushed the button for the elevators in the lobby. As if on cue, the bell dinged, and Lori stepped out.
“Oh! Lori.” Tree was startled to see her still here in her scrubs.
“Hi.” Lori stopped short, but she didn’t smile.
Tree frowned. “I thought your shift was usually over by now.”
Lori shrugged. “Doing a double for Jen. She has the flu.”
“We missed you at the house meeting today.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “Didn’t think I needed to be there to decide what color Danielle’s hair should be this season.”
Tree laughed, but Lori didn’t join in. Tree felt a familiar heaviness descend between them. The fun was gone in a flash.
“So.” Her roommate crossed her arms. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here?”
Tree sighed. She wasn’t about to get into this. “Gotta go.”
She nudged past Lori and pressed the elevator button again. It had just been here. Damn it. Where did it go?
“Look, Tree…”
Tree closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d heard this speech a zillion times before, and she silently begged the elevator to hurry as she saw from the lit display above the doors that it had begun its descent: 4…3…2…
“It’s none of my business,” Lori continued, “but I think eventually something like this is bound to have some pretty serious consequences.”
Ding.
Mercifully, the doors opened, and Tree stepped inside. She hit the button for the fourth floor.
“You’re right,” she said with a smile. “It’s none of your business.”
Tree tried not to register her friend’s disapproval, but Lori looked like she’d sucked on a lemon. Finally, the old metal doors closed with a dull clunk. Tree attempted to shake off the weirdness with her roommate, trying to let her spirits rise along with the elevator.
It was her birthday, after all.
She could give herself any gift she wanted.
* * *
—
The Bayfield University Hospital had been built in the ’40s, added onto in the ’60s, and remodeled in the ’90s. This series of projects had left behind a winding tangle of corridors that were virtually impossible to navigate without a map. The administration had recently begun a floor-by-floor construction project to simplify the layout, but the layers of ancient steel and concrete meant the cell reception came and went, and GPS—for those who needed directions—was spotty at best.
Luckily, Tree knew her way around almost every inch of the fourth floor. She smiled as she approached the nurses’ station outside Dr. Butler’s office. Deena, the charge nurse on duty, was whispering something to her coworker.
Tree heard her say, “Well, I’m not comfortable with it,” and saw the other nurse nod, a frown creasing her forehead with concern. Both of them straightened up and smiled when they saw Tree walking by. She waved as she blew past. Deena was always bitching about something—the amount of paperwork the morning charge nurse left her to do; the cost of a Diet Coke in the vending machine; the distance of her son’s preschool from campus. Her complaints were endless, and Tree, for one, had decided months ago that the best course of action was to ignore her.
She rounded the corner and passed a police officer posted outside a patient’s room. He nodded as she walked by, and Tree smiled back. No doubt the Sigma Nus had gotten a pledge so drunk he’d tossed himself through a window. Now, poor Officer Schmuck Face had to wait until this idiot kid came to so a report could be filed about all the details he’d never remember in a million years.
At the end of the hall, she stopped at a door marked DR. GREGORY BUTLER and cautiously threw a glance over her shoulder. Then she turned the knob without knocking and slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Professor Butler wasn’t here yet, but Tree didn’t mind waiting. He was probably just finishing up his morning rounds.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of this place always made her heart race: leather-bound books, the dust on their spines, the sweet chemical smell of the disinfectant the staff used to mop the floors in the hall. The office was cramped, but Tree always thought of it as cozy.
She walked over to the desk and noticed a photo in an inscribed frame: Gregory & Stephanie. There he was with his wife, the two of them resplendent on their wedding day. Still, even under
glass, his bright blue eyes beckoned Tree toward him. She laughed to herself and tipped the frame facedown on the desk.
As she did, she heard Dr. Butler enter behind her, and she turned around. When he saw her standing in his office, he closed the door as fast as he could.
“We can’t do this. There’s too much going on in the building today.”
Tree walked toward him slowly without saying a word. She took his car keys out of his hand and dropped them in a dish on his desk.
He continued to protest—something that Tree would never admit excited her just a bit. “I have patients—”
“Yeah,” she interrupted. “And I’m losing mine.”
Tree grabbed his belt, jerking him toward her, and unzipped his fly. She slid one hand into his pants, threw an arm around his neck, and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him hard.
That was all it took. She felt his arms slide around her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, spinning her around, and putting her down on his desk. She wrapped her legs around his and pulled him in closer.
This was what she had wanted all day. It was all I wanted last night, too, she thought. College boys were so boring compared to this—so simple and petty—headed nowhere but back to the keg in a hurry. There was only so much fun she could have with a frat boy who really just wanted to get off so he could get another drink. But this…
This was exciting.
Gregory kissed his way down her neck, and she ran her hand from his shoulders up into his hair.
His lips grazed her ear. “This doesn’t mean you’re passing my course.” His voice was sly and teasing.
Tree pulled his hair gently, making him tilt his head back and gaze at her with those perfect baby blues. “Do I look like I care?”
When he kissed her again, she felt a chill of pure pleasure run down her spine. Her right leg kicked out by reflex, knocking a desk chair on rollers across the small room with a bang. Both of them jumped, laughing as the chair slammed to a stop, wedged between the door and filing cabinet.
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