"Why are we here for again?" I ask, legs swinging off of the edge of Mr. Carpe's mahogany desk. Varnished wood creaking beneath the weight of my body. Whining. Dark corridors. Frosted glass. I'm subdued and anxious all the same. We could get caught sneaking papers out of the Dean's office. We could get caught.
"Do you think he keeps the memo in his folder cabinet?" Billie asks. She's a flash of ultramarine curls around the room. Platform Dr. Martens stamping dirt into the neutral beige rug and my chest tightens. It's just a coffee stain. He'll think it's a coffee stain.
"Do you really think he'll keep a physical copy of the final paper in his office? What year is this? Everything is done digitally now," I tell her. It's supposed to make her want to leave. This isn't worth it. We would be better of writing the curriculum down behind the cover of our scientific calculators.
"He's super old school. Can you remember that time he had us write our assignments by hand? He's definitely the type of person to print a copy of the memo. It has to be here somewhere," she says to me. Her hands are inside of the cabinets and thumbing through the shelves and scanning the papers on his desk. Her hand on my back. Vanilla candle perfume. Acrylic nails.
"I think we should go back to res. I don't have a good feeling about this, Billie. We could go through the work together. I'll help you with the things you don't understand," I'm telling her and I'm desperate. She can't find the papers and we've been here long enough. Someone is going to notice the lights are on. Come and turn them off. Find us inside like this.
"You don't get it. This is the hardest class in the entire department. He's got a thirty percent pass rate. I'm on a bursary. I can't afford to fail this class." Her face is inscrutable. Afraid for herself. Indignant. "I mean, if you don't want to be here, you can leave. I don't know why you came here with me anyways. It's not like I asked you to be here."
"You know that's not fair. You're like the only friend I have on, like, this entire campus. My only other alternative was to stay in my room at a party no one bothered to invite me to. A party no one asked if they could have in my room," I say to her.
"Then help me find this stupid memo--"
"Yeah, I just want to turn off the light. We must have forgotten to turn it of when we left. Who did you say was going to the party?"
"Billie Eilish."
"The girl with the blue hair?"
"Yeah."
"The one you've got a stupid crush on? You know she's like gay. Right?"
"She's a bisexual. Actually."
"Right---"
"Shit!"
Billie looks at me and I can tell that she regrets ever coming here. That she thinks I was right this whole time. That we should have left. Never came here in the first place. Hid in my room and finish season of The Vampire Diaries.
You have to cover for me, she mouths.
I can't---
You know I can't get caught. I'll lose my bursary.
Billie---
I'm your best friend.
Go! Use the window.
She's a strike of lighting in the distance. Ultramarine curls flashing in the autumnal wind. She's through the window like an apparition. My chest is panic attack tight. I don't move from the desk and hope for the best and, really, it's all just wishful thinking. A sitting duck.
Stealing from the dean's office?
"---that makes a lot of sense."
Olive McAustin pauses. Tweed evening coat. Starchy white shirts. Leather Prada oxfords. A copy of The Secret History underneath his arm. Top achiever trash. Daddy's money. Stuck up barstard---
"What's taking you so long, mate?"
"You go ahead."
"What? Seriously?"
"Go ahead, mate. Stop clinging. I'll get you there."
"Fuck you."
"Real mature, Nathaniel."
Olive closes the door. I get off of the desk. Pull my skirt down. A little more. Glass bottle eyes following my hands. Cput sweater. White collar. Silver chains. R5 shop makeup. "Fuck."
"This is ripe. Year two's good girl. Sneaking into the dean's office? This couldn't have been your idea. Who's here with you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about---"
"---you're practically shitting yourself right now. You obviously didn't think about doing this yourself. Who made you do it?"
"What makes you think I didn't do this myself? You don't even know what I'm doing here--"
"The final exam memo. Right? I heard the other second years speaking about it in class today. Do you really think you're the first ones to think about stealing it? Where's your little friend? I'm sure she's the one who put you up to this. This isn't anything like you," he says. Calm. He doesn't think I'm capable of sneaking into the dean's office. The good girl. Pathetic people's pleaser.
I'm your best friend.
I close my eyes. Can't see anything. Can't see him. Really can't feel bad about it if it isn't real. "I don't--I wasn't here to take the memo. I swear. We weren't. I... You're right. I don't have it in mean to fuck up this badly," I say to him. Suck up to him. Play the game. The good girl. Good girl.
"That doesn't explain what you're doing here," he insists. "You know I'm going to have to report this to the dean."
"I don't...want to talk about it..."
His face softens. Moves a little closer to me. I'm between him and this stupid mahogany desk and I hate being myself so much in that moment. "If you're going through some stuff, Landon... You can talk to me. I'm on the school's SRC. I can get you the help you need. You don't have to act out. There are, like, a million studies that shows it doesn't make you feel any better. You need to find better ways of letting...letting of steam---"
"Wow, you're like painfully a nerd."
He can't help but laugh. "I'm serious, though. You're a good kid. I don't want to see you get dragged down by people like Billie."
"She's my best friend. And, really, she isn't even as bad as everyone makes her out to be. I think you just need to give her a chance to prove herself. She's going through a lot right now," I say. I don't know why I feel the need to open up to him. Maybe to save face. I can't say nothing.
"I think you're going through a lot, too. And you can talk about it---if you want," he says.
Lie. Lie. What do I say? "Truth is...Piper is having a party in our res and...no one invited me. I mean, it's not like I wanted to go. But, you know, I would have liked to have an option of not going. But, like, no one even asked me if they could have the party in our room. I mean, Piper doesn't own the place. I have just as much right to be there as she does. But I didn't want to say anything about it because--I don't know. Maybe I'm just thinking too much into it. What if she did ask me and I just don't remember saying yes? I don't want to, like, demonise her."
Olive leans against the desk next to me. Arms crossed over his wide chest. Like a beetle. Glass bottle eyes staring into me. "Do you want me to log a complaint? I mean, she's not even allowed to have parties in her room."
"You can't do that. They'll know I'm the one who told you! They're like all friends and they're super close and I'm the only one not included in their stupid group," I say.
"You're just as important as the rest of our class. Okay? Just because they didn't invite you to some stupid party doesn't mean you're not, like, amazing and funny and really good at writing essays and styling your clothes and making people feel included. And...and maybe that's because you know what it feels like. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Trust me. They're not even worth it. They look like they always having all of this fun, when really...half of us are falling all our modules. We've got parents who are so difficult to satisfy and. no matter what we do, they're always more interested in what our younger brothers are doing," he says. His face flushes. Pomegranate red. "I mean---"
His phone rings in his pocket. He keeps his eyes on me while he answers the call.
I'll leave, I mouth.
Olive shakes his head. Reaches out his hand to me. Stay. Please...
Okay.
"Dad. Hello," he says in his Teacher's Assistant voice. Enormous hand on my back. Stay here. Just here. In this moment. Oh, won't you? "Yeah, just give me a second."
"Where are you? Your mum and I have just arrived at the airport. We'll pick you up somewhere around seven tomorrow morning," his dad says. He's switched to video. "Your mum is really excited about meeting your girlfriend. It's nice to see you opening up and getting to know new people. I don't like you isolating yourself in your room with your work. I always say: Business doesn't have a lot to do with what you know, really, it has more to with who you know. It's important to get to know the right people before you're introduced into the business."
"Yeah. I--"
"---what did you say her name was again? Lockland?"
He looks at me. There's panic there. Uncertainty. So he doesn't really have a girlfriend?
"---dad." He's pleading now. Fingers digging into my hip. Skin burning warm. Embarrassed.
"What? Is she with you right now? Why didn't you just say so? I'll call you back then. Tell her I said hello."
"Okay. Bye. Love you too, dad. Yes, I will. Promise. Bye again."
We're quiet about it for a long time.
"She isn't real. Is she? I mean, your girlfriend. Unless I'm being completely arrogant and you're connected enough to know two people named Lockland. But, you don't socialise---like ever. So that's not possible. And if so, why would you lie to your dad about having a girlfriend?" I ask him.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking when...when I said that to him. I mean, my brother's getting married in, like, two months and he doesn't want me to show up without someone. He doesn't want the family to think there's anything wrong with me. They're already planning the wedding... I didn't know how to tell him that I made it all up. That I couldn't say no to him, so I lied about having a girlfriend," he says to me.
"And you chose to use my name because..."
"Because my brother's fiancé... God, you should see her. She's perfect. I don't think she's ever even cussed---not even by mistake. They probably saving themselves for marriage. And I hate it. And I needed...I wanted someone better than her to show off to dad..." he says to me. Can't even look in my direction.
"Show off?"
"You're perfect, Landon. God, you're perfect. And he won't be able to take his eyes off of you when he meets you tomorrow. You'll be the one thing I did right. The one thing I can't fuck up just by existing," he insists.
"I'm not meeting your dad. I'm not...lying about being your girlfriend---"
"---I know Billie was in here with you. And I really don't want to have to do this to you. It's not your fault. But you're going to have to do this for me if you want me to keep quiet about it. She could lose her bursary," he tells me.
I turn away from him. Right. He's blackmailing me. I'm your best friend. "Fine."