Page 60 of You + Me – Against the World

For four interminable days, curled up in bed, I’ve replayed the scene over and over. I’ve reread every one of the little notes we exchanged in class. I treasure them, but they’ve grown more and more creased each time I unfold them—which I do mostly to remind myself that it had all been real. That perhaps it still is. And then there’s Vadim’s last look, the one that haunts me, that I’m still trying to decode.

What did he do?

As if this ordeal wasn’t unbearable enough, I also have to deal with everyone else. My mother’s concerned looks, the way she presses the back of her hand against my forehead every time she sees me. Basile’s proud, smug look as he whispers gleefully, “I told you so,” or, “He’s getting what he deserves,” every chance he gets. Lily’s forlorn look as she comes to sit at the end of my bed and tickles my feet to see if it will make me laugh, even though it never does. Georgia’s compassionate gaze—having probably figured out what’s going on, she keeps trying to cheer me up by bringing me trays of hot chocolate. Clémentine’s apologetic expression, which she wears when she stops by to give me the lesson notes I need to catch up on and pep me up as best she can with college gossip that I couldn’t care less about. And my father’s stern look, because he’s decided that I’m better and that it’s time for me to go back to school before I drop out for good.

I won’t get better until I know how Vadim is doing.

Why don’t I know anything? Why haven’t I had any updates? If Vadim still hasn’t contacted me, it’s because he hasn’t been released from wherever they’re holding him yet. But where is that? The police station? Jail? Is it really that serious? I can’t call Felix or Keith, because I don’t even have their contact details. I have no way into Vadim’s world unless he’s the one opening the door for me. Do I really know so little about him?

It’s Friday. I’d asked Clémentine to come pick me up this morning. I don’t feel up to arriving on campus alone and facing reality—by which I mean all those students who witnessed what happened and who must have gossiped about nothing else for almost a week now. Clémentine loops her arm through mine and walks with her head held high, at a deliberate pace, ready to use her body as a shield against the first person who tries to approach me.

“Where have you been hiding, Lancaster? Did they arrest you too?” a male voice calls out behind me.

“Don’t stop. Just keep walking,” Clem whispers in my ear.

“Did you at least bring Arcadi a care package?” another dumb voice adds.

It comes from a group of basketball players gathered around Timothy a short distance away.

“Don’t take the bait. That’s exactly what Wallace wants!” Clem says.

“Do they allow conjugal visits in jail?” adds a lanky giant, making an obscene gesture.

“Hey, Wembanyama, go play ball if you need to blow off steam,” my friend shoots back as she keeps walking. Then, in a low voice directed at me, “See? I brushed up on my basketball trivia to impress Marcus!”

“I’m proud of you, Clem…”

“Come on, let’s get out of here, guys,” Tim says suddenly.

He looks away, resigned, as if there’s nothing more he can do for me.

That’s all I want from him…

When we reach our classroom, I hesitate, tempted to turn and run, but Clémentine still has a firm grip on me.

“You’ve gotten through the hardest part. You’ll be fine now.”

Despite Clem’s attempts to reassure me, I’m peppered with questions from my classmates, who don’t hold back with their opinions either. A little less idiotic, a little more well-meaning, but almost as painful to hear.

“So, is Arcadi out?”

“Did you see him? Did you talk to him?”

“What did the cops want with him?

“It must be serious for them to come and get him from school!”

“Is he coming back to class?” asks Phoebe McPherson, worried that she’s lost her project partner.

“I always knew that guy was sketchy,” Nicki Scott comments dramatically.

“You don’t know anything at all, Nicole!” Clem snaps.

“Want a piece of my Twix?” Andrew Clark offers, as if it could somehow solve all my problems.

Clémentine accepts on my behalf, always up for a little sugar boost.

“Tell Arcadi I’m on his side,” Andy continues.