Commons is one of Barcroft’s older buildings. It has a grand, Gothic feel—high, arched windows, paneled walls, massive chandeliers, and dangerously slippery marble floors. It took serious concentration to walk, hold my tray, and say hi to everyone I passed whom I hadn’t seen yet since being back at school, especially since I was conscious of David watching me from behind.
As we neared the table, Abby’s eyes were round, like I was bringing a gift-wrapped box with her name on it. The neckline of her tank top had dipped mysteriously lower.
“So,” she said to David, after he and I had sat down and I’d introduced everyone, “your first meal here and you already found the best dining room.”
“Did I?” he said. “Celeste mentioned this is the one she usually eats in.”
“Yeah, she would,” Abby said.
“Why’s that?” David asked. I thought I heard an edge in his voice.
“Upper left tends to have more artsy types.” Abby gestured at students around us, as if they were all splattered with oil paint. “Although, Leena and Viv aren’t artsy, so it’s not a given. Jocks and more conservative types tend toward upper right. But some of the football guys are in here tonight, so that’s not a given either. The lower halls tend to have underclassmen and more nondescripts. Kind of a mishmash. Anyway, this is where you should look for us first. We’re usually here. Except when we’re not.” She grinned.
“Valuable information,” he said, smiling back.
A tall, auburn-haired girl I recognized but didn’t know stopped at the table. “David, right?” she said. “We met earlier? At registration? I just wanted to say that if you’re interested in the. Ride Club, you should totally come talk to me about it. My name’s. Cora.”
“Thanks so much,” David said. “I will.”
After Cora floated away, Abby pointed a carrot stick in her direction and said to David, “That’s why you’re going to want to find us at meals.”
“Uh, why?” he said.
“You’re such a rarity,” she explained. “A new guy who’s not fourteen years old. You’re going to need our protection from the swarming hoards.”
“Should I carry a Taser or something?” he said, pretending to be alarmed.
“Oh, definitely.” More grinning.
I took a bite of thick, buttered bread and swallowed past my immature jealousy of the obvious spark between Abby and David. Also, I hoped Abby was just flirting, that she wasn’t considering him as a possibility. Gorgeous as he was, we were living with his sister. It could get messy if one of us hooked up with him and it didn’t go well. Although maybe I didn’t have to worry about that with Abby. She didn’t have the fiascos I did when it came to guys.
“Cam?” I said. “You go on Ride Club trips sometimes, don’t you?”
“Yep,” Cameron said, peeling a banana. “Usually the overnights.” He and Viv had been together since freshman year. They were noticeable around campus since, after a late growth spurt, Viv towered five inches taller than him. They hated when people called them cute; but, well, they were. “You bike for fun?” he asked David. “Or are you trying out for the team?”
“For fun,” David said, “and transportation.”
“Are you an artist, like your sister?” Abby asked.
He shook his head and took a sip of lemonade.
“I bet you’re a …” She rested her fingertips on her temples, pretending to be psychic. “A musician. You play guitar.”
“Nope,” he said. “Tone-deaf.”
There was a brief silence. I think we were all expecting David to say what he did do, what activity/talent/passion he’d be emphasizing on his college apps. He didn’t say anything, though, just ate a couple of black olives off his salad.
“Will you guys help me with my peer-counseling presentation for the new students tonight?” I asked Viv and Abby. “I’m already nervous.”
“You’ll be amazing,” Viv said. She looked at David. “Leena started this whole program where students are trained to counsel other students about stuff, for kids who’d rather not go to psych services. It’s been really successful.” She said this so proudly. I squirmed in my seat, embarrassed.
“Other schools have similar programs,” I said. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Celeste told me about it,” David said. “And I noticed your thing on the orientation schedule.”
“We’re excited to have her in the dorm,” Abby said. David didn’t respond so she added, “Your sister.”
“Oh,” he said. “Uh-huh.”
“Are you guys twins?” she asked. “Or are you a junior?”
“A senior, but I’m a year older.” He paused. “I took last year off.”
“Ahh—an older man …” Abby’s voice was kiddingly suggestive. “What’d you do?”
David pushed his rigatoni marinara around his plate. “Different things.” His energy had shifted. Maybe he really was tired, like he’d said, and not in the mood to be grilled.
“Abby?” I said. “Can you pass the salt? And the pepper, too?”
She pulled a Plastic Man to reach the shakers but didn’t switch her focus. “Did you travel?” she asked him.
“Not really. A week in Costa Rica.”
“If you did anything interesting, you should be on Viv’s show.”
“Definitely,” Viv said. “Cam and I host a WBAR show on Tuesday nights. We play music, but we also have guests on to talk about whatever. You could talk about what you did last year, why you’re at Barcroft now, what sign you are … you know, stuff. It’s fun.”
David laid a napkin over his pasta, as if covering a corpse. Blots of red seeped through the thin, white paper. “How’s this?” he said. “I had to leave school—Pembroke—because they busted me for cheating. At the same time, my dad’s mental illness got really bad and I didn’t want him to have to live in a group facility,
so I moved home to help my mother take care of him. But I guess I didn’t do a very good job because he decided the government had sent me there to poison him. Barcroft took into account the extenuating circumstances, and the fact that I got really good grades at Pembroke, and let me in. Any questions?”
The sounds of other diners’ conversations, laughter, and utensils clanking against their plates seemed to swell around us as we sat there staring at our food. I struggled to come up with the right words. A schizophrenic father. God.
Unfortunately, Abby spoke first. “You might want to put a different spin on that for the radio show,” she said.
I knew she was hoping to lighten the moment, but she just sounded harsh.
David didn’t look up.
The meal ended quickly. On my way out of the dining hall, I stopped to put my tray—minus silverware and uneaten apple— on the kitchen conveyor belt. David placed his after mine.
“Sorry,” he said. “Long day. I should have sat alone.”
“It wasn’t you.” I plunked my utensils in the designated bin of murky dishwater, trying not to let any splash on us. “They meant well, though.”
We followed the flow of students into the hallway and down marble stairs that were smoothed unevenly by years of footsteps. I let Viv and Abby go on ahead, instead keeping pace with David.
Outside, he said, “I have my ride,” and gestured to the bike rack at the north end of Commons. I was walking the same general direction, so I drifted next to him.
“Is, um, is your father okay?” I asked as he squatted by a blue road bike. He’d obviously gotten sick of answering questions. Still, I couldn’t leave it hanging like that.
“Depends what you mean by okay,” he said, undoing the chunky padlock. “He’s alive. Living in a facility, for now.”