Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,77
Caro!” I yelled. “I got into college and you’re mad at me? That makes zero sense! You’re supposed to be happy for me! That’s what friends do!”
“You know what else friends do?” she said. “They tell each other things! Important things, like the fact that they’re, oh, I don’t know, applying to colleges, maybe?”
“I applied to one!”
“You should have told me!” Caro yelled. “I thought we would get an apartment together, take the same classes!”
“Get an apartment?” I repeated. “Caro, do you really think my mom would let me do that? There’s no way! We talked about it, yeah, but there’s no—”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you were planning this whole new life!” Caro said. “Everyone seems to be doing that, though, making all these new plans without me. Drew’s got his scholarship and a cute barista and you’ve got San Diego and Oliver.”
I tried to interrupt her, but she didn’t stop. “I’m really glad you told Oliver, though. He’s been home, what? Two months? Six weeks? And yet he knows more about you than I do.”
“Oliver? Seriously, Caro? Is that what this is about?”
Caro stalked over until we were less than a foot apart. “It is always about Oliver,” she said, her voice low and venomous. “It’s been about him for years. I thought now that he was home that maybe we could move on, that we wouldn’t just be ‘Oliver’s old friends,’ or whatever the fucking press used to call us. But it’s still all about him.” Caro held up her hands like she was dropping the past ten years at my feet. “So fine. He wins.”
“This isn’t a competition!” I cried. “I’m still friends with you and Drew. I’m just . . . dating Oliver. That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about college? Why didn’t you mention it to me? You’re not the only one who wants out of here, Emmy!”
“I didn’t even think I would get in!” I cried. “It just happened!”
“Okay, then here’s another question. Why don’t you call and ask me to do something? Or—crazy thought—ask me how I’m doing!”
I didn’t have an answer for that. It was no secret that I hadn’t been spending as much time with Caro and Drew now that Oliver was home. With Drew, it hadn’t really mattered because he was spending all of his free time with Kevin. But Caro . . .
“Caro,” I said. “Why don’t you hang out with us this afternoon? We were just going to go to the Stand and get dinner, but you should come with us.”
Caro just turned around and started walking away again. “You’ll have to forgive me if I pass on your pity date,” she called over her shoulder. “I know where I’m not wanted.”
“Caroline!” I yelled. “You can’t just walk away in the middle of a fight. That’s not fair!”
“Look who’s suddenly upset when things aren’t fair,” Caro yelled, and kept walking. She walked until she was just a speck in the distance, then she seemed to melt into the horizon. I watched her go, defeated, then turned around and trudged back to school where Oliver was waiting for me near the concrete statue of our mascot, a giant, soaring bird that looked like it was constantly deciding which student to gobble down first. (Go Hawks.) At that moment, I sort of wished he would pick me.
“Hey!” Oliver said. It had gotten cloudy out and he had tugged his hoodie up over his head so that just a few strands of hair were peeking out. “Where’d you go? I saw Drew and he said something about Caroline and stew?”
“Yeah, well,” I said, “Caroline’s not exactly happy about me getting into UCSD.”
“What?” Oliver frowned. “Why? She’s, like, your best friend. I thought she’d be running around the school, yelling at people and lighting firecrackers.”
“Yeah, well,” I said again. “Apparently not.” I didn’t feel like explaining that the problem had everything and nothing to do with him. “Ready to go?”
Oliver eyed me, then slung his arm across my shoulders. He didn’t answer my question; instead, we walked toward my car, with only one place to go: home.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The silent treatment from Caro went on for a week. My phone had never been so quiet. “Are you still not talking?” Drew said when he saw me at school on Monday, after a weekend with no Caro. “How am I supposed to have two best friends who are fighting? This doesn’t work for me.”
“Learn to adjust,” I told him. “And I’m happy