Someone knocks on the door and then enters the classroom. All of our heads snap up to see the visitor so we can determine if we need to stand at attention or not. We don’t. It’s a freshman who’s about as low as me on the totem pole of cadet ranks. While he talks to the teacher, I focus back on the problem in front of me.
“Mr. Evans,” the teacher says.
“Yes, sir?” I reply, standing.
“You’re wanted in the main office.”
“Yes, sir.” And just like that, my palms grow sweaty. What have I done now? I glance at Paige on my way out, hoping she might be able to shed some light on what’s going on, but she shrugs her shoulders and looks as confused as me. I then pass by Jernigan, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes.
Great. Just great. Apparently I’ve angered him yet again. Did he report me to the dean for something? God, I hope not. As much of a dick as he’s been, he’s at least kept it between us. I do not want the dean involved. I can’t have Jernigan ruin everything for me.
When I get to the office, only the secretary is there, which makes me hopeful. If it were something really bad, I’m sure the dean or the headmaster would be waiting for me.
“Oh, Logan,” she says, looking up from her computer. “Your lawyer is on the phone. He said it’s very important.” She passes me the handset.
“Hello,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. What does he want? What if the plea bargain is off? What if he tells me it’s time for an orange jumpsuit?
“You need to dump her ass, Lo!”
It’s Gordy, not my lawyer. I take a deep, relieved breath.
“Um, Mr. Needleham, thanks for calling.” I angle myself away from the secretary, but the cord is only so long. I can’t get totally out of earshot. Hopefully she can’t hear Gordy’s end of the conversation.
“Nate and I went to the movies last night and Lora was there, hanging all over some guy!”
“I am disappointed to hear that,” I say.
More like pissed.
Did the past year not mean anything to her? I go away for like a month, and she moves on? Already? I should’ve known something was up the moment I received the care package. She included one of my old sweatshirts I had given her, saying she was worried I might need it up in the mountains. I thought it was unusually sweet. She wasn’t being sweet; she was clearing me out of her life.
“We confronted her, and she begged us not to tell you. Said it would be too hard on you with everything else going on.”
“That’s very considerate of her to look out for my best interests,” I say, grinding my teeth together. And here I was feeling guilty for almost kissing Paige and thinking about how hot she is. It sounds like Lora’s been doing at least that, if not more.
“Right? She doesn’t deserve what you’re doing. Break up with her, come clean. Then you can come home and be done with all this military school shit.”
“That does sound appealing.”
“So do it,” he says, calmer now.
Can I do it? Two weeks ago, the thought of breaking up with her was really depressing, but now … not quite as much, especially if she’s fooling around with another guy. It was nice thinking she was at home, waiting for me, and come June we could fall back into our easy routine, but was that ever a possibility? Could we ever really get back to what we had before the accident?
Which brings me to the bigger question. Can I turn her in? Even though I’m not a huge fan of her right now, I don’t want her to go to prison. I still like her. Maybe not necessarily as girlfriend material, but what we had still means something to me, even if it doesn’t mean anything to her.
No, I can’t ruin her life. It sucks, but, like Mr. Needleham said, in the grand scheme of things it’s only eight months of my life. A prison sentence would affect her for the rest of her life.
“I see your point,” I say.
“Good.”
“I’ll take care of as much of it as I can this weekend. Thanks for calling, Mr. Needleham.”
“Later, Lo.”
“I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”
I hand the phone back to the secretary.
“Everything, okay?” she asks, the wrinkles around her eyes turned down in what seems to be genuine concern.
“Yeah, thanks.”
As I walk back to class, I think about it some more. Maybe this is a good thing in disguise. The whole one door closes so another one opens, right?
Maybe this is a little good cosmic karma finally raining down on me. A sign I can find a better girlfriend. One who wouldn’t make me take the heat for her mistakes. One who wouldn’t forget about me the minute I leave town.
One who may have a stick up her ass but would have my back.
Shit.
What am I thinking? Paige is absolutely not girlfriend material. And I don’t need to jump from one girl to another. I could use a little break. I need to focus on school and staying out of prison anyway. That’s what’s most important at this moment.
And now I even sound like her, I think, rolling my eyes.
* * *
It’s Saturday, and I just finished morning study hall. I’m starving and want to head to lunch, but I need to get this phone call out of the way first.
With a sigh, I pull my phone out of my pocket and lower myself to the floor outside the mess hall. I never thought I’d be the one calling it off, but here I am.
I tap my fingers on my knee while I wait for Lora to pick up. As soon as I hear her voice, my whole body tenses. “Hey. It’s me,” I say.
“How’s it going?”
“Okay. How are you?”
“Fine.”
Then it’s silent, which is another sign we’re over. We never used to have silence between us.
“So, uh,” I say, tracing a dark brown spot on my cammies, “this long-distance thing isn’t really working for me.”
“What? Why?” she asks. I can’t tell for sure, but it seems like there’s some relief in her voice, mixed in with the surprise.
“I think a relationship requires being able to see each other, or at least talk to each other, more than two days a week. Don’t you?”
“Oh, well, I guess so. I mean, it’s not what I want, but if you think it’s best, then okay.”
I probably should call her out on the other guy, but it’s not like I’m totally innocent myself.
She continues. “We’ll still be friends, right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I … I know I owe you big for what you’re doing. Maybe when you come home for Christmas, I can take you out to dinner or something. As friends.”
Yeah, that ought to cover my time at Wallingford. “Sure.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s keep in touch,” she says quietly.
“Sure.”
“You’re a good guy, Logan. I miss you and wish things could’ve turned out differently for us.”
“Yeah, me too.” It would be great if I were at home right now. And she hadn’t crashed my car. And we were snuggled up on the couch watching something on TV, but that’s never going to happen again. The night of the accident changed everything, and there’s no going back.