Once Ben’s stretch woke up the couch, Jo was the first to say, “Erm, that’s a wrap, hey guys? We can call it a night—err, morning. Whatever.”
Ben nodded being too tired to form words yet.
While rubbing his eye Lee asked, “None of us have class now, right? What time is it?”
“Pretty sure classes are in the afternoon?” Brandon answer-asked.
Lee yawned, “That’s—good.”
Jo clarified, “Yeah, it’s just orientation in the morning. We can skip it, I’m sure we can figure out where our classes are.”
Kate pouted just as Ben, Jo, and Lee started shuffling to their feet, grabbing blankets and chip bags and other stray garbage as they went, so their movement drowned out her little whine. But still acting as her shoulder-pillow Brandon heard it.
“Still asleep?” he asked.
“Nnn-nnn. But I’m so tired, just leave me here.”
“Don’t think that’s how that works. One of us, remember? On your feet, solider.”
Next to them, Ben asked, “Hey, where did all these blankets come from?”
Jo replied, “They’re ours; Lee got them for us, I forget when,” while rubbing her tired temple.
Lee said, “Start of the second movie, wasn’t it? But it was Jo’s idea.”
Through a big yawn Ben said, “Props. Good thinkin’, you two.”
In the vacant dormitory hallway, Ben asked, “Think the cafeteria’s open?” He seemed completely unaware he was leaving a trail of barbeque-flavoured dust carrying a chip bag upside down.
Jo had to set them both straight: “It’s like four or five in the morning, you guys. Cafeteria opens at six-thirty. Am I the only one who read their acceptance package?”
“Probably,” Ben answered.
Behind them, Brandon said to Kate: “Hey, got a minute?”
“I’m holding chip crumbs.” She thought that would be a good enough deflect.
Of course it wasn’t, so their friends marched on as Kate slinked back to Brandon.
“I was kinda hoping we could talk,” he tried. “We haven’t said much since you left last summer. So, just—how was Feverfew? Everything good?”
“Right, the summer.” Of course he remembered. Dammit. “I, um, can’t talk about that right now. Feverfew was—it changed everything for me. I met my Dad.”
“I even have a grandma too, and possibly a new step-mom? Oh, and I was right by the way: my Mom isn’t my mom, Aunt Vivian is my—um, yeah.”
“Yeah. So, I’m really looking forward to a fresh start in university, y’know?”
Only after the words left her lips did she worry, Was that enough? Could he believe that and leave the rest alone? Kate had plenty of excuses for why she insisted on smothering her feelings, but guilt overwhelmed her in Brandon’s presence. She may have learned how to lie last summer, but Kate gravely neglected how much harder it was to lie to herself. Her sweaty grip began melting those crumbs in her palm, it was very uncomfortable to carry.
He answered, “I get it. Me too, actually.”
It was true: their time apart gave Brandon W. a lot of aimless afternoons thinking about what he’d say to Kate Rose when they met again at RBU. What he missed the most was freely talking to his best friend. Forget his stupid feelings, he decided. How he liked Kate didn’t matter when the two of them weren’t even talking anymore. The sooner he and Kate could start over, the better.
Her spirit lifted a little. “Really? We’re cool? Um, everything’s normal?” she asked, hopeful, but with a shy laugh crudely tacked on that undercut something important in her voice.
But Brandon was eager to move on and didn’t dwell on it. “Long, awkward future, right?” This was what kept him going: hope that his embarrassing disaster at the train station might be one day completely forgotten with a friendship reset at RBU. The rest could figure itself out later.
Kate may have forgot she said that once. A smile formed. “That’s—great. Really great, B. Thanks. Night.”
Nevertheless, what little Kate told Brandon just now did beg the question of what she wasn’t telling him. That long, awkward future of theirs dimmed a little in its hopeful promise.
“Yeah, night.” Isn’t it morning?
