Chapter 3
I struggled to breathe for a moment, convincing myself it was just a symptom of my illness.
With shaky hands, I typed back: [No.]
He sounded a bit disappointed. [It's been ages.
[Honestly, everyone wants to catch up with you.
[How have you been?]
He probably saw all the sarcasm in the group chat and was just trying to comfort me a little.
Back in school, he was always the nicest guy in class, everyone liked him.
I typed back: [I'm doing fine, but I won't be going.]
He replied: [Maybe we can all get together again sometime.]
It was just polite small talk.
I replied with a simple "Okay," and that was the end of it.
I lay back on my bed, and for some reason, my mind drifted back to the team captain's words.
[If Ethan hadn't been showing off his girl on Instagram...]
Like a rat hiding in the shadows, I pulled up my phone and silently clicked onto Ethan Foster's profile.
My heart hammered in my chest, only to be met with a blank page. He had blocked me.
But the truth was, I had actually seen that girl before.
Four years ago, during the height of summer, I took a cross-country train ride to his Ivy League campus.
Standing outside the university gates, I watched from a distance as that very same girl threw her arms around him.
Ethan and I have always been from two different worlds.
That was true now, and it was true back in high school all those years ago.
Just one semester into our freshman year, we were already the two most famous names in our grade.
I was known for having the highest GPA in the school.
Ethan was known for punching out the senior class bully's front tooth.
So, our homeroom teacher decided to put us together as desk mates.
"Sophie," the teacher had said, "You're a model student. I need you to help keep an eye on Ethan.
"He had excellent scores coming into high school, but somehow he's lost his way."
Ethan was notorious.
No parent wanted their kid anywhere near him.
So the teacher ended up choosing me.
I had top grades and never caused trouble.
My only family was my honest, hardworking adoptive father, who had a crippled left leg, meaning no one was going to march into the school to complain.
So I ended up as Ethan's desk mate.
After Ethan skipped class for the third time to go fight,
our homeroom teacher called both of us into the office.
After chewing Ethan out, she turned to me, her tone much gentler. "Sophie, if you notice Ethan leaving the classroom, just let me know a bit earlier, okay?"
I didn't dare say a word.
High school wasn't free.
A huge chunk of my tuition and living expenses relied on financial aid and the scholarship I got for being top of the class.
And the homeroom teacher was the one who approved the financial aid applications.
When we left the office, Ethan didn't seem to care at all, while I was so embarrassed that I started crying.
Even someone as laid-back as him was totally shocked by how upset I was.
He looked at me, totally confused. "You're not the one who got suspended for fighting. Why are you crying?"
I couldn't say a word.
The next day during study hall, a bunch of sophomores came to the window to get him to ditch class and head to the arcade.
I blocked him from leaving, refusing to stand up and let him out of his seat.
When I spoke, my voice was literally shaking. "You... you can't go. The teacher said so."
The guys outside burst out laughing, totally incredulous. "Is she for real? What is she, a little kid?
"Ethan, just pick her up and toss her aside!"
Ethan's face darkened as he turned to climb out the window.
Panicked, I grabbed his arm. "If you need to go, wait until after class."
One of the guys outside snatched up a book and chucked it at me.
"What the hell is your problem?" he yelled.
The corner of the book grazed my shoulder before hitting the floor.
I let go of Ethan's arm.
It didn't really hurt, but for a bit, my mind was just totally blank.
I got up and stepped out of the way.
But Ethan stayed right where he was.
He looked really frustrated and didn't say anything for a while.
Then he grabbed the book off the floor and hurled it out the window. "Get lost. I'm not going."
That afternoon, for once, he actually stayed until the bell rang.
The next morning, I made up my mind to ask the teacher for a seat change.
But on my way to the teacher's office, a man in a suit stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
I recognized him. He was Ethan's dad.
He was the one who funded one of the school buildings and a scholarship fund.
He looked all smiles as he shoved a wad of cash into my hand. "I heard you're my boy's new desk mate and that you've been keeping him in class these past few days.
"Keep up the good work. From now on, for every day he stays out of trouble, or every spot he moves up in the class rankings, I'll pay you three hundred bucks."
*****
I still hadn't managed to pay my foster dad's hospital bills.
I'd tried borrowing money from everyone I knew, but no one would lend me a cent.
My mind went blank for a moment as I stared at the wad of cash.
Then Ethan's cold, disgusted voice came from behind me. "She doesn't want your money."
My hand froze in midair.
Ethan stepped up, his eyes landing on my hand, and for a moment, he was stunned.
For the entire morning, Ethan sat there with a cold, sullen expression, never once sparing me a single glance.
At noon, everyone headed to the cafeteria for lunch.
I pulled a plain bagel out of my desk and ate it with a cup of warm water from the water cooler by the podium, working through a mock exam paper while I chewed.
When Ethan came back from lunch, he frowned at what I was eating. "That thing's practically a block of ice. How are you even chewing it?"
A few classmates glanced over, and my face instantly burned bright red.
During the afternoon study hall, Ethan, who'd spent the whole morning ignoring me, suddenly dug out a crumpled test paper from his desk.
He smoothed it out and shoved it in front of me with an awkward expression. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping up the good work? Explain this to me."
I just stared at him, completely caught off guard.
Outside the classroom window, sunlight streamed in after the first snowfall.
I noticed his ears had turned bright red.
After that, Ethan's grades skyrocketed.
He had a solid foundation to begin with.
When he first started high school, he had placed third in the entire freshman class.
For the next three years of high school, Ethan's desk mate never changed.
I used the money his father gave me to buy my dad a high-quality wheelchair.
I also bought Ethan a special gift, a massive, comprehensive set of SAT prep books and AP practice exams.
When Ethan tore open the carefully wrapped box, his face turned completely green.
Later on, during the final mock exams of our senior year, he ranked tenth in the school.
He brought his report card over to show me, and tucked underneath it was a love letter.
Surrounded by the scent of the autumn campus, I saw his flushed profile and bright red ears.
In that instant, my heart skipped a beat.
I said, "Let's get into the same college together."
Everyone in the class knew my goal was to get into the best schools in the country.
Ethan started grinding through practice problems like crazy, even giving up basketball.
He was really giving it his all.
In the end, his test scores and GPA were almost identical to mine, easily clearing the cutoff for an Ivy League acceptance.
At the post-graduation class party, his eyes were actually red when he confessed his feelings to me again.
I said yes.
And then, a few days later when we submitted our final college decisions, I swapped out my Ivy League choice for a state university thousands of miles away. Southport University.
By the time Ethan found out, our acceptance letters had already been mailed.
He called me repeatedly, acting like a madman, only to receive my final response. "Stop looking for me. Ethan, I never actually liked you. It was only ever about your dad's money."
I hung up and blocked him everywhere.
After that, I cut off all contact with him and everyone from my old class—never spoke to any of them again.
When our paths crossed again.
It had been five years, and now I was on the brink of death.