Paper Flowers (Pretty Plastic People) ★

bonus 04

Despite the sense of closure it should offer me, the encounter with Taylor at the party leaves me on edge for the rest of the weekend. I try not to think about it, but it's always pressing against the back of my brain like a bruise.

The sensation is made worse when I sit down across from Liam at The Cold Front, stirring my granola around to mix with my frozen yogurt.  

"Have you talked to Taylor since Friday?" I ask him, crushing up a particularly large piece of granola.

Liam spoons some Oreo into his mouth.  "No.  Just because I forgave him doesn't mean we're BFFs again."

"Do you think we can ever become friends with him again?"

"Do you want us to?"

I shake my head, so fast that for a second the pressure in my head is gone.  Then it's back, so I add, "I'd be happy if I never saw him again.  But maybe one day he'll come crawling back to us.  I don't know.  He already kind of has."

"I guess."  He doesn't seem particularly interested in the conversation—instead, his fingers keep stretching in the direction of his phone and then curling again, like he's dying to check it.

"What's wrong?"

It's as if this has given him permission to go on his phone, because he unlocks it and starts scrolling frantically.  "Decisions for Central come out today," he says.  "They're gonna be posted any minute."

My stomach flips at the mention of college.  In the wake of everything else that's been going on, I've been trying to push college decisions out of my head because they'll only add to the stress.  But it's become unavoidable the last few days.  I've already received two notifications—both acceptances—but I'm waiting on an email from my dream college.

"How long until you hear from Princeton?" Liam asks, pocketing his phone.  I assume an email hasn't come through for him yet.

"Later today."

It feels awkward talking about college with my friends, even Liam.  I applied to Ivy League schools and a few less-known but still extremely reputable choices.  There's such a small chance I'm going to get into the Ivies that I don't even like to mention it—I'd rather not let anyone know how much I want to get in so I can brush it off with nonchalance later.  The rest of my friends have various levels of transparency with their processes; they're applying to all different kinds of schools, and Liam's set on small in-state colleges.

"Like what time?"  He unlocks his phone again.  "Actually, hold that thought.  Decisions just came out."

I drop my spoon and stare at him with wide eyes, heart pounding as he opens the email.  If I feel this nervous for him, I can't imagine how he feels, yet he looks serene and sturdy as ever.  His fingers don't shake and his eyes don't betray any emotion as he scans the letter.

Please let him get in.  Please.  Liam needs this.  He only applied to two schools, and this is his safer bet.

It's only a few seconds before he sets his phone facedown on the table and takes a giant bite of frozen yogurt.  I hesitate for half a heartbeat before I ask, "Well?"

"I got in."

"Of course you did!"  I hop down from my stool to hug him, squeezing his neck.  "Why aren't you smiling?  You should be smiling!"

"I'm shocked.  That's all."  When I sit back down he adds, "Mr. Denham was forced to report to my colleges that time sophomore year I got busted for drinking on campus.  I didn't think anyone was going to let me in after that."