Josh sets down the stein to properly examine me. He gazes into my eyes as I think, David. Josh’s middle name is David. Thanks to sleepless nights on Wikipedia, I know it’s also his father’s middle name.
“Isla is a good name,” he finally says. “The right name.”
Kurt isn’t impressed. “Isla was named after something, too, you know.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say.
Josh sits forward. His eyes shine. “Do tell.”
“Prince. Edward. Island,” Kurt says.
There’s a long pause. And then I’m the one sighing. “Yeah, so my parents did that horrible thing where they named me and my sisters after where we were conceived.”
Another pause.
“They did not,” Josh says.
“Alas. Geneviève was named after the patron saint of Paris. ‘Hattie’ is short for Manhattan, and, yeah…Prince Edward Island. My parents were on vacation. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my name isn’t Prince or Edward. But the notion of island travel? Completely ruined for me.”
Their laughter is interrupted as the stairwell door opens with a booming metallic clang. A swarm of girls peer in at us as they pass by my open door. More than one eyebrow is raised. I hear my name murmured down the hall and into the lobby, accompanied by laughter that’s not nearly so friendly.
“You know,” Josh says, with a glance towards me. “I’d almost forgotten how annoying this room is. Those stairs drove me nuts.”
“I don’t like the window,” Kurt says.
“Seriously. The prisonlike bars, the traffic. Do you remember that opera singer who used perform out there?”
“So what are you doing today?” I ask, pushing the girls from my mind.
My question catches Josh off guard. “Um, working. Drawing. By myself. In my room. On the top floor?”
“Oh. Cool!” I try to sound chipper. How naive for me to assume that we’d be hanging out. Of course he’s busy. “We’ll be working down here. On homework. Like usual.”
But Josh seems…confused. Disappointed.
It takes me a moment. And then I realize that he’s just told me that he’ll be alone in his room and where his room is located. And I told him that I’ll be here with Kurt. The guy who slept in my bed last night.
“Unless you wanted to hang out?” The words spill from my lips. “I’ll come up. To your room. If you want.”
Josh’s entire body brightens. “Yeah?” He glances at Kurt. “You’re invited, too, of course.”
“I don’t think you mean that.” Kurt drains the last of his coffee. “And I’d pass, anyway. I’d rather not watch you guys feel each other up.”
Chapter twelve
The sixth floor isn’t a regular floor. True, it has the same peculiar contrast of crystalline fixtures and fluorescent bulbs, antique wallpaper and industrial rugs, but it’s what the French call les chambres de bonne. The maids of the aristocracy used to live up here. The ceilings are lower, and there are fewer rooms. It’s also silent. No voices, no music. Eerie.
I pass a door that’s been plastered with a dozen images of the same boy band, another with a small whiteboard that has a phone number scribbled on it, and another with a large whiteboard that’s been tagged with the words DAVE HAS TINY BALLS!
Room 604’s door is blank.
In previous years, Josh would tack up silly illustrations of himself in various costumes – cowboy, pirate, clown, robot, bear. My heart tugs at yet another reminder of his current state of unhappiness at our school.
I smooth the front of my dress. It’s been an hour since breakfast, because I needed to take a shower. I also needed to apply some serious bruise-covering make-up. I take a deep breath and copy his signature knock.
Josh opens the door with a knowing smile.
I return it shyly.