Fangirl

with nicotine-stained fingers. (Those girls were telling Cath’s jokes now; it was infuriating.)
    “Look, I just need to talk to you,” he said. “It won’t take long.”
    “So talk,” Wren said.
    “Yeah,” Reagan said, leaning against the doorjamb. “Talk.”
    Nick looked like he was waiting for Cath to bail him out, but she wasn’t in the mood. She thought about walking away and leaving him here to deal with Reagan and Wren, who were difficult and unpleasant a lot of the time even if they liked you.
    “Go ahead,” Cath said. “I’m listening.”
    “Okay…” Nick cleared his throat. “Um. Fine. I came to tell you, to tell Cath”—he looked at her—“that my story was selected for Prairie Schooner. That’s the university’s literary journal,” he said to Wren. “It’s an incredible honor for an undergraduate.”
    “Congratulations,” Cath said, feeling all used up all over again. Like he was robbing her again, this time at gunpoint.
    Nick nodded. “Yeah. Well … The faculty adviser, you know, Professor Piper, she, um—” He looked around the hallway, agitated, then gave a little huff. “She knows that you helped me out on my story, and she thought it would be nice if we shared the credit.”
    “ His story…” Wren looked at Cath.
    “Nice?” Cath asked.
    “It’s a prestigious journal,” Nick said. “And it will be a full coauthor credit—we can even do it alphabetically. Your name will come first.”
    Cath felt someone’s hand on her back. “Hey,” Levi said, kissing the top of her head. “Got off early. Hey,” he said brightly to Nick, holding his arm out and around Cath to shake hands. “I’m Levi.”
    Nick took his hand, looking confused and hassled. “Nick.”
    “Nick from the library,” Levi said, still cheerful, resting his arm around Cath’s shoulders.
    Nick looked back at Cath. “So what do you think? Is that cool? Will you tell Professor Piper that it’s cool?”
    “I don’t know,” Cath said. “It’s just…” Just, just, just. “After everything, I’m not sure I’m comfortable…”
    He pressed his navy blue eyes into her. “You’ve got to say yes, Cath. This is such an opportunity for me. You know how badly I want this.”
    “Then take it,” Cath said quietly. She was trying to pretend that everyone in her whole life wasn’t standing right there listening. “You can have it, Nick. You don’t have to share it with me.”
    Nick was pretending, too. “I can’t,” he said, moving another step closer. “She—Professor Piper—says it runs with both of our names or not at all. Cath. Please. ”
    The hallway had gotten very quiet.
    Reagan was looking at Nick like she was already tying him to the railroad tracks.
    Wren was looking at him like she was one of the cool girls in his stories. Oozing contempt.
    Levi was smiling. Like he’d smiled at those drunk guys at Muggsy’s. Before he’d talked Jandro into throwing a punch.
    Cath went back to pretending they weren’t there. She thought about Nick’s story—their story?—about everything she’d poured into it and the chance, now, that she might get something out.
    And then she thought about sitting next to Nick in the stacks, trying to get him to let go of the notebook.
    Levi squeezed her shoulder.
    “I’m sorry,” Cath said. “But I don’t want any credit. You were right all along. It’s your story.”
    “No,” he said, clenching his teeth. “I can’t lose this.”
    “You’ll get another opportunity. You’re a great writer, Nick,” she said, and meant it. “You don’t need me.”
    “ No. I can’t lose this. I already lost my teaching assistantship because of you.”
    Cath stepped back. Into Levi.
    Reagan opened the door wider, and Wren pushed past Nick, pushing Cath into the room. “It was nice to meet you,” Levi said, and you’d have to really know Levi to know that he didn’t mean it.
    Nick held his ground, like he still thought he might talk Cath into helping him.
    Reagan kicked the door shut in his face. “Were you really going out with that guy?” she asked before it had quite closed. “Was that your library boyfriend?”
    “Writing partner,” Cath said, avoiding them all, setting her bag on her desk.
    “What a douche,” Reagan muttered. “I’m pretty sure my mom has that scarf.”
    “Did he steal your story?” Wren asked. “The one you were working on together?”
    “No. Not exactly.” Cath spun around. “It doesn’t matter,” she