Cath wondered if Wren was ever planning to talk to her about what their dad had brought up. She wondered how many other important things Wren wasnt telling her. And when had this started? When had Wren started filtering what she told Cath?
I can do that, too, Cath thought, I can keep secrets. But Cath didnt have any secrets, and she didnt want to keep anything from Wren. Not when it felt so good, so easy, to know that when she was with Wren, she didnt have to worry about a filter.
She kept waiting for a chance to talk to Wren without Courtney, but Courtney was always around. (And always talking about the most inane things possible. Like her life was an audition for an MTV reality show.)
Finally, after a few days, Cath decided to walk to class with Wren after lunch, even though it might make her late.
Whats up? Wren asked as soon as Courtney was on her merry way to Economics. It had started snowinga wet snow.
You know I went home last weekend, Cath said.
Yeah. Hows Dad?
Fine good, actually. Hes pitching Gravioli.
Gravioli? Thats huge.
I know. And he seemed into it. And there was nothing elseI mean, everything seemed fine.
I told you he didnt need us, Wren said.
Cath snorted. He obviously needs us. If he had a cat, the man would be one bad day away from Grey Gardens. I think he eats all of his meals at QuikTrip, and hes sleeping on the couch.
I thought you said he was doing good.
Well. For Dad. You should come home with me next time.
Next time is Thanksgiving. I think Ill be there.
Cath stopped. They were almost to Wrens next class, and Cath hadnt even gotten to the hard part yet. Dad told me that hed already told you
Wren exhaled like she knew what was coming. Yeah.
He said you were thinking about it.
I am.
Why? Cath tried really hard to say it without whining.
Because. Wren hitched up her backpack. Because shes our mom. And Im thinking about it.
But It wasnt that Cath couldnt think of an argument. It was that there were so many. The arguments in her brain were like a swarm of people running from a burning building and getting stuck in the door. But shell just mess everything up.
She already messed everything up, Wren said. Its not like she can leave us again.
Yes. She can.
Wren shook her head. Im just thinking about it.
Will you tell me if you decide anything?
Wren frowned. Not if its going to make you this upset.
I have a right to get upset about upsetting things.
I just dont like it, Wren said, looking away from Cath, up at the door. Im gonna be late.
So was Cath.
Were already roommates, Baz argued. I shouldnt have to be his lab partner, as well. Youre asking me to bear far more than my fair share of apple-cheeked protagonism.
Every girl in the laboratory sat on the edge of her stool, ready to take Bazs place.
Thats enough about my cheeks, Snow muttered, blushing heroically.
Honestly, Professor, Baz said, waving his wand toward Snow in a just look at him gesture. Snow caught the end of the wand and pointed it at the floor.
Professor Chilblains was unmoved. Sit down, Mr. Pitch. Youre wasting precious lab time.
Baz slammed his books down at Snows station. Snow put his safety goggles on and adjusted them; it did nothing to dim his blue eyes or blunt his glare.
For the record, Snow grumbled. I dont want to spend any more time with you either.
Stupid boy Baz sighed to himself, taking in Snows tense shoulders, the flush of anger in his neck, and the thick fall of bronze hair partially trapped in his goggles. What do you know about want?
from Five Times Baz Went to Chemistry and One Time He Didnt, posted August 2009 by FanFixx.net authors Magicath and Wrenegade
ELEVEN
The hallway was perfectly quiet. Everyone who lived in Pound Hall was somewhere else, having fun.
Cath stared at her computer screen and heard Professor Pipers voice again in her head. She kept forcing herself to remember the entire conversation, playing it back and playing it back, all the way through, forcing a finger down her memorys throat.
Today, at the beginning of class, Professor Piper had passed their unreliable-narrator scenes back. Everybodys but Caths. Well talk after class, okay? the professor said to Cath with that gentle, righteous smile she had.
Cath had thought this exception must be a good thingthat Professor Piper must have really liked her story. She really liked Cath, you could tell; Cath got more of those soft smiles than just about anybody else in the class. More than Nick, by far.
And this scene was the best thing Cath had written all semester; she knew it was. Maybe Professor Piper wanted to talk about the piece in more detail, or maybe she was going to talk to Cath about taking her advanced class next semester. (You had to have special permission to register.) Or maybe just something good. Something.
Cath, Professor Piper said when everybody else was gone and Cath had stepped up to her desk. Sit down.
Professor Pipers smile was softer than ever, but it was all wrong. Her eyes were sad and sorry, and when she handed Cath her paper, there was a small, red F written in the corner.