So Into You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #2] (16 page)

"When I was six, I wanted to be president," Lizzie said.

"Not a delusion."

"Not at all. But my mom said it used to be—that in her time, it was completely unheard of."

"Is this where you tell me that maybe one day my kid will have a chance of being a mermaid?" Ellie teased.

"You have other dreams. You think I don’t know because you’re always trying to act like you’re cool with everything. That you just want to go with the flow. Do what the universe wants for you and all that. But it’s okay to want things, and it’s okay to be sad when they don’t happen."

Ellie felt her eyes sting. "It’s easier for you." The only force as relentless as Lizzie was the pounding ocean waves.

"Nothing is easy. What I’m going to do . . . Ellie . . . it’s going to be hard. It could get me in trouble. Like—my parents would have to come get me."

Ellie turned sharply to Lizzie—whose parents had never once left Chicago to come get her. "What are you up to, Lizzie?"

"I might not be able to save you . . . but I’m not letting Jasta go. Not so easily."

Chapter Nine

Ellie flipped the blue book closed. She fought the urge to spike her pencil on her desk with triumph. She had done it. She had finished her midterms. Her calculus and physics results would be phenomenal. Her English Literature better than average. Civics would be mediocre—but a Guatemalan high school wouldn’t care about an American Civics grade.

As the bell rang and more blue books flipped closed, her classmates began cheering and high-fiving. Ellie turned around and high-fived the students around her, a smile breaking out on her face.

A collective cheer rose up—not only from their class, but from classes down the hall as students greeted Thanksgiving vacation.

Ellie felt a mixture of relief and anxiety as she tucked her pencil in the back pocket of her denim shorts, uncrossed her long legs, and slipped out of her seat to walk back to the dorm.

A paper airplane flew by her—one of the girls having fun.

Ellie appreciated a little fun right now. Something to distract her from all the free time she suddenly had on her hands. The school was officially closed as of ten seconds ago, so she didn’t need to be at the Tuesday dinner service. Bergie had preordered sandwiches for any students whose parents weren’t arriving until tomorrow to whisk them away for Thanksgiving break.

Or Guatemala, in her case.

Tonight was truly her last night at Jasta, and she had an appointment with a tree.

She dropped off her notepad in her room and stepped across the hall.

Anne opened the door. "Done with midterms, Ellie?"

"More than done," Ellie said. "Lizzie back yet?"

"She got back a second ago, but then Dante came by and they took off."

"Oh."

Anne pulled her door open and waved her in. "Want to wait? I think they’re just up to—you know—trying to save the school and all."

"Um . . . sure." Ellie took a few tentative steps in, wiping her palms nervously against the tops of her thighs. She’d never actually been alone with Anne. "So how’s that going? Saving the school?"

Anne shrugged and sat on the edge of her chair, posture straight, while Ellie lounged on Lizzie’s bed. "I don’t know that it can be saved. Not that I’d tell Lizzie."

Ellie smiled. "It’s impossible to tell Lizzie anything she doesn’t want to hear."

Anne laughed and nodded, like she knew what Ellie was talking about. She did know Lizzie quite well, having been her roommate since the beginning of junior year. "What’s wrong?" Anne asked. "You just winced."

"I did?" Ellie composed her face. "I just realized you’re going to stay. And know Lizzie better. And have these adventures together and . . ." She swallowed a sob.

Anne flew off the chair to her side, her arm around her shoulder. "It’s okay, Ellie. I know what it’s like . . . to have to pretend that everything is okay when it isn’t. But you don’t have to pretend with me."

Ellie peered at Anne—seeing her with new eyes.

She had been so focused on how she was always hiding her feelings that she hadn’t realized Anne hid her feelings, too. About having her school sold. About Rick.

"Do you ever just think about telling him how you feel?" Ellie asked.

Anne didn’t pretend to not know who Ellie was talking about. "All the time. But the truth is, Ellie, he knows. Rick knows how I feel and he doesn’t care."

"You can’t know—"

"Yes, I can—and I do. I deserve it. I screwed up. But you didn’t do anything wrong. You deserve to know how Edward feels. And Emma deserves to know why Josh lied to her."

Ellie tried to take a calming breath but couldn’t. She tried again, but with every breath, instead of a sense of calm, she felt her chest puff with indignation.

Because Anne was right.

She had done nothing wrong.

Edward hadn’t done anything wrong, but neither had she. It hadn’t been wrong to think Edward liked her, just like it hadn’t been wrong for Emma to think Josh liked her.

"What . . . what is it?" Anne asked as Ellie rose to her feet.

"At least one of us is getting what she deserves today."

* * *

Ellie found Josh in the gym—one of a half-dozen students in loose tanks lifting weights and doing push-ups and sit-ups. Josh was leaning on an incline bench, two large dumbbells in either fist. He exhaled short, quick breaths as he pushed the weights repeatedly overhead. Ellie had to admit to a brief brain blip at the sight of Josh’s slick, taut biceps.

She firmed her resolve and stalked over to his workout bench.

Josh was mid-push as she appeared in his view and he finished the motion, then lowered the weights to the ground. He sat up, grabbed a water bottle, and took a quick chug.

"What’s up, Ellie?"

"We need to talk."

Josh gave two slow nods, then stood up, directly in front of her. She had to take a quick step back so they weren’t chest to chest.

"Outside," he said. "Flip-flops aren’t allowed in the gym. It isn’t safe." He pointed to the wall of gym rules—of which
No Open-Toed Shoes
was number three.

"Oh . . . um, thanks." But Ellie wasn’t about to be deterred by Josh’s concern for the well-being of her toes.

She was here for answers.

She didn’t want Josh to have the advantage of her trailing after him, so she sidestepped around him, forcing him to follow her out of the gym to the empty basketball court. She stopped beneath the basket and crossed her arms, pinning him with as stern a glare as she could muster.

"Well." Josh raised an eyebrow. "I’m here."

"Why did you lead Emma on?"

Josh winced and took a visible step back.

Ellie pressed forward, pointing at his chest. "Why did you tell her you were taking her to the awards with you and then ditch her? And why did you get her drunk?"

"I didn’t get her—"

"You gave her what she needed to get drunk—after rejecting her. What did you think was going to happen?"

He ran a hand through his dark hair right along the blonde strip. Lucy had the same affectation. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow to splat on the ground. "Shouldn’t you be asking Emma these questions?"

"Emma doesn’t know the answers," Ellie said. "If she did—"

"What? She would have told you? Because I already explained to her. I explained the night of the Halloween dance, Ellie."

Ellie frowned. Emma would have told her if Josh had defended his reasons for ditching her. Although technically Ellie hadn’t asked . . . and Emma had never said Josh
hadn’t
said anything.

"She didn’t tell you?" Josh said.

"She must not have thought it was worth mentioning."

"I never said it was a good reason. Or an honorable one." Josh rubbed the back of his neck, a little ashamed. "My manager made me do it."

Ellie rolled her eyes.

"That was her reaction, too," Josh said. "But you guys don’t get it. Acting is . . . it’s my job, my life. I don’t even know what I am without acting, you know? I can’t imagine what I’d do."

"How does standing Emma up make you a better actor?"

"It makes me a more visible actor. My last movie came out last year—that means I made it a year before that. I haven’t had a job in two years, Ellie. That’s forever for an actor."

"I still don’t get—"

"I was going stale. I couldn’t get a part to save my life. I’ve been at auditions every weekend for months where I didn’t even get a callback, and there was finally this part—it’s not even a good one." Josh gave a pained laugh. "In fact, it’s this lame horror movie—and it films over Christmas break, which means it’ll be a short, shoddy production—but they called me back. And they liked me but they wouldn’t make the offer. Being at the Teen Movie Awards with a famous actress on my arm—that made me hot again. My manager said if I could just get some publicity they would call, and she was right. I got the part." He smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I got the part, Ellie."

Ellie shook her head. "I hope it was worth it."

"Maybe it won’t be." Josh shrugged. "Maybe my career is over. Maybe I’ll never act again—not for money, at least. But I had to try. If there was that one thing—that one thing that made you feel like yourself—and it was slipping away and you didn’t do anything about it—how could you live with yourself?"

Ellie fished her phone out of her pocket. As she turned to walk away, leaving Josh to sputter and ask if she believed him, she texted Lizzie.

Your idea? I’m in.

Chapter Ten

Emma burst into the room.

"I’m ready," Emma sang as she ran around the room grabbing her coat and smoothing her bob back with a headband. She spun around and ran her eyes from Ellie’s flip-flops to her face as she sat on the bed. "What . . . what’s wrong? We gotta go—I already saw Lizzie headed for the tree."

"I spoke to Josh."

Emma’s coat dropped to the floor.

"I asked him why he was such a jerk to you. Why didn’t you just tell me it was a career move?"

Emma grabbed Ellie’s sweater and tossed it to her. She pulled it on over her arms.

"Would it have made a difference?" Emma asked.

"Kind of."

"That’s why I didn’t tell you. You’re always so . . . reasonable. So calm about everything. If you’d known his reason, you would have tried to talk me out of being upset. Or told me I was being stupid. And I knew I was being stupid but I couldn’t help how I felt, and the last thing I wanted was you also thinking I was stupid."

Ellie threw her arms around Emma as her blabbering turned into crying and hiccups.

"I don’t know how you do it," Emma said into Ellie’s curls. "I wish I was as strong as you are."

"I’m not strong." Ellie pulled away and wiped at Emma’s cheeks. "No more than you. I’m just better at hiding my weakness."

Emma wrapped her elbow around Ellie’s. "You’ve always been strong for me."

They walked arm in arm outside to the courtyard. Lizzie and Anne were waiting by the tree. Lizzie had a backpack slung over her shoulders.

"Ready?" Ellie asked, as she reached for the lowest branch.

"Wait," Lizzie said. "We’re not going to the top this time."

"But we always go to the top," Ellie said. At the beginning of every year they climbed to the top of the tree and yelled, "
We Will Be Heard!
"

Lizzie dropped her backpack with a clang. She unzipped the top and pulled out a heavy chain. "This time, we’re staying at the bottom."

* * *

Lizzie had estimated it would take ten minutes for Bergie to arrive on scene and another twenty for the media. In truth, it took Bergie only four.

She’d stalked up to them in a tight lime-green zip-up dress and pink leather booties, taken one look at how the four of them were chained to the tree by the wrapped heavy links shackled to their left ankles, and immediately demanded the key.

When Lizzie triumphantly announced there was no key and they had no intention of leaving until the new owners revealed themselves and promised not to change the name of their academy, Bergie had roared for someone to get her a bolt cutter and stalked away.

The media showed up seventeen minutes later.

"She’s local," Lizzie said as a woman in a smart red business suit appeared on the lawn barking orders to a cameraman. "But national coverage is sure to be hot on her heels."

Ellie hoped Lizzie’s overblown optimism was founded, for once. Still, a reporter was a reporter.

Emma sat up and finger combed her blonde hair. Anne nervously wrung her fingers in her lap. Ellie shifted the heavy chain off her waist so she could get a better look at the reporter.

Almost half the student body had gathered in the courtyard, standing around the edges. Some had brought picnic blankets and sat down to watch the show. A few parents dragged their children away. The reporter interviewed bystanders.