Page 77 of The Beta Test

Turns out that—yes—I was going to do something that ridiculous. A shiver runs through my shoulders as I wait on Analiese’s concrete front steps. There’s one potted plant slumped to the side and a crooked little birdhouse, dusty and clearly kid-made, near the step. The whole entryway looks like someone set things down a long time ago and never had the time or energy to check on them again.

I shift the heavy plate to one hand and tug my beanie down over my ears with the other. Although southern California doesn’t get very cold during the winter, it’s a particularly chilly January day. I shuffle from foot to foot, worrying that Analiese is going to insist on further humiliating me by not answering the door at all. She’s clearly home—there are multiple lights visible through the windows, and the sound of music playing filters through the walls. I push the doorbell again and sigh.

Finally, frustrated stomps echo inside before the door is wrenched open, revealing Analiese’s very annoyed face.

“What do you want, Avery James? It’s generally accepted that if someone doesn’t answer the door, it’s because they don’t want to see you.”

Wow. First of all, ouch. Secondly, that’s almost the exact phrasing I used with Jake earlier today in the hallway. Maybe Jenna has a point about how similar we are.

“You’re totally right,” I say without missing a beat, “but what if there’s a double chocolate cake with thick frosting and crushed Oreo crumbs on top out here? Surely that changes things.”

Her eyes immediately flick down to the plate in my hands, and I can practically see her brain weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

“Made fresh today?”

“Of course.”

“Is there a layer of frosting and cookie crumbs inside too?”

I scoff. “I don’t even know how to do something halfway.”

She stares at it a moment longer, then stands aside, gesturing me in with a wave of her arm. I step inside and follow her to the dining room table where she has books and binders scattered about, clearly in the middle of schoolwork. She must have stopped the music because the house is silent. Along one wall, some white blinds are pulled up, letting the late afternoon sun illuminate her workspace. The walls are undecorated, save for one clock, whose ticks sound particularly loud in the awkward stillness.

There’s also a pile of mail. On the top of the pile is a conspicuously large envelope from MIT. There’s only one reason you get the big envelope: acceptance.

My stomach drops like the floor just shifted. I take a deep breath to steady myself and set the cake down on the one open spot between the clutter.

“So you got into MIT?” I ask casually.

Her black eyebrows crush together, then her gaze follows mine to the table. She quickly gathers the stack of mail and moves it to a nearby side table out of the way. As she moves, I take a second to glance around, noticing how everything feels the same as the front porch—like the people who live here don’t have the time and energy for upkeep.

“Not that it’s any of your business. But, yes. I did.”

I nod slowly, trying not to spiral over the lack of large envelopes landing in my mailbox from MIT. Or any college.

“Avery, if you’re here about the swim team, give it a rest. We don’t have to be friends to make this work⁠—”

“I’m not here because of that.”

She pauses and waits, though impatience lines her features. Her almond-shaped eyes crease with annoyance. Or maybe defensiveness. It’s hard to tell.

College acceptance issues can wait for another time. This visit has another purpose.

My expression stays carefully pleasant as I sit. Analiese, who is still standing with her arms crossed, gives me an impassive look. When I take too long to continue, she rolls one hand at me.

I clear my throat. “I was hoping we could, um, clear the air. And start over with a blank slate. Stuff like that.”

Analiese rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment, so I continue. Hopefully with more coherence than what just came out of my mouth.

“When you came over to watch Wuthering Heights it’s true that I blew Jenna off—I was supposed to go to her volleyball game and hang out with her afterwards. But…”

My voice trails off for a second, panic gripping my middle. Despite all the bridges I’ve tried to rebuild lately, and every awkward conversation I’ve forced between Braden and my dad in the name of honesty, I still can’t believe I’m choosing to open up to my lifelong nemesis. My eyes drop to the tabletop and study the grain lines of the wood visible between stacks of notebooks.

“But,” I repeat, lifting my eyes, “I wasn’t ashamed of you. I was ashamed of me. You were right. I am a coward.”

Analiese’s face softens slightly.

“I was hiding so much from Jenna and didn’t know what to say. So I hid.”