Fangirl

on, Cath, you told me not to lie.”
    “Could you just go to the grocery store or something?”
    “You know I hate the grocery store.”
    “They sell fruit at QuikTrip.”
    “They do?”
    “Yes. Ask somebody.”
    “You know I hate to ask somebodies.”
    “You’re making me worry about you.”
    “Don’t worry about me, Cath. I’ll look for the fruit.”
    “That is such a lame concession.…”
    “Fine, I’ll go the grocery store.”
    “ No lying —promise?”
    “I promise.”
    “I love you.”
    “I love you, too. Tell your sister I love her.”
    ___
    “Cath, it’s your dad. I know it’s late, and you’re probably asleep. I hope you’re asleep! But I had this idea. It’s a great idea. Call me.”
    ___
    “Cath? It’s your dad again. It’s still late, but I couldn’t wait to tell you this. You know how you guys want a bathroom upstairs? Your room is right over the bathroom. We could put in a trapdoor. And a ladder. It would be like a secret shortcut to the bathroom. Isn’t this a great idea? Call me. It’s your dad.”
    ___
    “Cath! Not a ladder—a fireman’s pole! You’d still have to use the stairs to get up to your room—but, Cath, a fireman’s pole. I think I can do this myself. I mean, I’ll have to find a pole.…”
    ___
    “Dad? Call me.”
    ___
    “Call me, okay?”
    ___
    “Dad, it’s Cath. Call me.”
    *   *   *
    It was Friday night, and Cath had the dorm room to herself.
    She was trying to work on Carry On, Simon, but her mind kept wandering.… Today in class, Professor Piper had handed back the story that she and Nick wrote together. The professor had filled the margins with A ’s and drawn a little caricature of herself in the corner, shouting, “AAAAAA!”
    She had a few of the writing teams—the people who had done really well—read their stories out loud in class. Cath and Nick went last, trading paragraphs so they were always reading what the other person had written. They got tons of laughs. Probably because Nick acted like he was doing Shakespeare in the park. Cath’s cheeks and neck were burning by the time they sat down.
    After class, Nick held up his pinkie to her. When she stared at it, he said, “Come on, we’re making an oath.”
    She curled her finger around his, and he squeezed it. “Partners, automatically, any time we need one—deal?” His eyes were set so deep, it made everything he said more intense.
    “Deal,” Cath said, looking away.
    “Goddamn,” Nick said, his hand already gone. “We are so fucking good.”
    “I don’t think she has any A’s left after our paper,” Cath said, following him out of the room. “People will be getting B-pluses for the next eight years because of us.”
    “We should do this again.” He turned, suddenly, in the doorway.
    Cath hip-checked him before she could stop herself. “We already swore an oath,” she said, stepping back.
    “Not what I mean. Not for an assignment. We should do it just because it was good. You know?”
    It was good. It was the most fun Cath had had since … well, since she got here, for sure. “Yeah,” she said. “All right.”
    “I work Tuesday and Thursday nights,” Nick said. “You want to do this again Tuesday? Same time?”
    “Sure,” Cath said.
    She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since then. She wondered what they’d write. She wanted to talk to Wren about it. Cath had tried calling Wren earlier, but she hadn’t picked up. It was almost eleven now.…
    Cath picked up the phone and hit Wren’s number.
    Wren answered. “Yes, sister-sister?”
    “Hey, can you talk?”
    “Yes, sister-sister,” Wren said, giggling.
    “Are you out?”
    “I am on the tenth floor of Schramm Hall. This is where … all the tourists come when they visit Schramm Hall. The observation deck. ‘See the world from Tyler’s room’—that’s what it says on the postcards.’”
    Wren’s voice was warm and liquid. Their dad always said that Wren and Cath had the same voice, but Wren was 33 rpm and Cath was 45.… This was different.
    “Are you drunk?”
    “I was drunk,” Wren said. “Now I think I’m something else.”
    “Are you alone? Where’s Courtney?”
    “She’s here. I might be sitting on her leg.”
    “Wren, are you okay?”
    “Yes-yes-yes, sister-sister. That’s why I answered the phone. To tell you I’m okay. So you can leave me alone for a while. Okay-okay?”
    Cath felt her face tense. More from hurt now than worry. “I was just calling to