Breaking Bailey Read online

  Then Drew brought out a bottle of champagne and we toasted the “new” Science Club and our first payday together. Warren and I checked on the progress of our latest batch and it was good to go, so we went to Drew’s room and he had even more champagne there waiting for us. It was so classy. Honestly, just being around them makes me feel cool by proxy. And considering what Emily said yesterday, I kind of feel lucky to call them friends. They don’t let just anybody in, after all, and they chose me for some reason. And I don’t think it’s just for my chemistry skills because Katy asks me to hang out, no chemistry involved, and Warren . . .

  I don’t know. Sometimes he looks at me in this way that makes me tingle all over. I’m rolling my eyes at writing this because I can’t stand puns, but really, with him it’s all a different kind of chemistry.

  I had a lot of champagne. I swear, the bottles just kept appearing, and I clearly don’t have the experience with alcohol that they do. They acted like it was nothing, like they do this every day, so I kept the slight scandalized feeling I had to myself. I felt light-headed after my second, and we were all laughing like idiots. I don’t even remember most of what we talked about. Okay, I do remember doing a pretty nasty impression of Isa once, and they gave me a standing ovation for it. And I definitely remember sort of settling against Warren at some point, his arm around me again, his soft sweater and his warmth. The next thing I knew, he was gently waking me up, telling me I should probably get back to my dorm before we all got caught. He was smiling so sweetly at me as I struggled to keep my eyes open, and I was so grateful that he was looking out for me.

  I didn’t really want to leave Warren there all snuggly and warm, but getting caught would be ugly. So Katy and I left. I somehow managed to get in without waking Emily and fell asleep. Now my head is pounding and the thought of eating breakfast is horrifying. But . . . I have money, I have friends, I have (maybe only kinda sorta) Warren. I have found my place, and it’s probably the coolest place at Prescott. I will deal with a hangover every day if I get to have nights like that.

  And now back to bed I go.

  October 7, later

  Drew picked up pizza tonight, so we took a break from chemicals and chowed down. A batch was nearly done, so he’d been out taking orders, so to speak, and it looked like our next paycheck was going to be pretty great as well.

  We were sitting there, no sounds but chewing and bubbling chemicals, when a thought occurred to me.

  Me: So, how do we know this is quality? I mean, Warren and I have been making some subtle changes, but how do we know it’s working? That it’s making our, um, recipe better?

  Drew, around a mouthful of pizza: A couple of the sellers are also users. Not badly enough that we should be worried about them holding up their end of the bargain, but enough to dip in every now and then. They give us feedback.

  Seemed like a decent system, with no danger of any of us getting hooked or anything, but I was curious about what we’d been busy making. What was it like? What did it make you feel? What did it DO?

  Me, looking at all of them: But have any of you ever tried it?

  Katy, laughing: Not me, but these two idiots have.

  Warren, with a shrug: We thought we’d better know, is all.

  Me: And . . . ? What’s it like?

  Drew and Warren exchange a glance. Then, Warren: I felt like it gave me superpowers. I felt smarter and faster and stronger.

  Drew, nodding: Totally like superpowers. The comedown sucked, though. You instantly miss feeling powerful. Did you want to try it, Bailey?

  Of course I said no. I know I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite here, but anything that could make you addicted terrifies me. I don’t even understand how someone could inhale something or stick a needle in their arm knowing they might not ever want to stop. It scares me a little that the boys have tried it, that they’ve risked addiction or even flirted with the idea of it. They seem so rational and in control, and they certainly don’t seem like the type to do drugs. Just make them.

  How does that even make sense in my head? But it does. Drew and Warren are too smart to be addicts, I’m sure of it, and maybe that’s why they felt like they could try it. I wanted to ask them more, but I also . . . didn’t want to know more. I don’t like thinking of either of them like that.

  We worked until about one in the morning and crept home. I promised Emily the movie day tomorrow, and I’m glad I did. I could use a day to just relax.

  October 8

  Emily and I had a really good time watching movies, and we went to dinner together. She talked to me about her parents (both are teachers, both pretty strict, but both encourage her to write). She’s an only child, so her parents are her entire family. I can’t imagine that. I love Bex so much, it almost makes me feel sorry for Emily even more, that she doesn’t have a little sister to share with. Maybe I’m just lucky that Bex is so awesome and we’re far enough apart that we hardly ever fight.

  Afterward, we helped each other with homework. There was a chemistry question I got stuck on and nearly texted Warren for help, but thought better of it. He hasn’t texted or even mentioned how I fell asleep on him the other night, but maybe he’s trying not to embarrass me. Maybe he’s trying to gently show me he’s not interested? I don’t know. It’s just that I thought for sure he was thinking what I was thinking, but he hasn’t really made a move, other than putting his arm around me. Maybe he moves slowly? Maybe since I have no idea how this works, I’m expecting too much?

  Or maybe . . . and I hate to even list this as a possibility, but . . . maybe he’s just not that into me.

  I didn’t ask Emily about him again. I think, whatever it is that makes them uncomfortable around each other, I’d rather hear it from him. She seems angry or at least cold whenever we talk about him, but Warren just seems . . . I don’t know. Indifferent? I think his perspective might be better. At least I think I’d rather deal with indifference than anger when asking about a possible past relationship with a guy I would like to have a possible relationship with in the future. Ugh.

  October 11

  I had a ton of homework tonight, so even though I was “helping” at the lab, Warren did most of the work and I sat there studying and writing civics notes. I swear, I could feel every time he looked at me like it was a physical thing. And he seemed to look at me a lot. Maybe he’s trying to figure out if he likes me? I don’t know. But I could actually hear my heartbeat in my ears at one point, it was so nerve-racking to be so close to him and not know what he was thinking. I kept my eyes on my homework, mostly, and didn’t talk much. I was too afraid I’d say something stupid. Warren, on the other hand, seemed to want to fill every silence. He talked about all of his classes.

  Me: How do you keep up? You’re always here, and I hardly ever see you in class.

  Warren, smiling slowly: I go to class.

  Me: Not . . . enough. How do you do it?

  Warren, still smiling, though it’s cockier now: I don’t sleep much and I have a really high IQ.

  Me: Must be nice. Jerk.

  He laughed and had me come over to help him transfer a particularly heavy container of chemicals into the first station tub. Then he let me run the first part of the process, which I’m getting super good at, while he quizzed me about civics and wrote my answers down for me.

  Me: I think Mrs. Goodman might be a bit suspicious about the change in handwriting.

  Warren: Then tell her you were dictating to your personal secretary, Warren Clark.

  Me: Secretary? That sounds so . . . mid-century. How about “assistant”?

  Warren: Personal slave?

  Me, giggling: Deal. (Pause in which I work up the courage to ask him the hard questions.) So . . . why do you hate my roommate?

  Warren, looking up from my notebook with surprise: Emily? I don’t hate Emily.

  Me: You wouldn’t let her sit with us.

  Warren: We don’t let anyone sit with us. We might need to discuss business.

  A
t least that explains the elitism.

  Me: Well, when I asked her about you she got pissy. So I guess I thought . . . I don’t know. Maybe you two had something going on, and now you don’t? Bad breakup?

  Warren takes a long moment, seeming to collect himself, then: You’re not wrong, exactly. Emily and I had a thing last year, I guess you could say. It wasn’t long, but it was really intense. Not healthy. I had to end it.

  Healthy or not, I am not sure I love the idea of Warren having any sort of intensity for anything outside of me and Science Club, but I put my jealousy in check. He hasn’t even wanted to hold my hand yet, after all.

  Me: I guess some people just don’t click, huh?

  Warren, looking at me, intense but sweet: Right. But some people click. They really, really click. Perhaps right from the start.

  Me, blushing as I picked up on his meaning: Really? I thought maybe I’d misread you. I mean, you haven’t been very . . .

  Warren: Forward? Pushy? Those kind of guys are the worst, Bailey. I’m not one of them. Not my style. There’s an art to waiting for the right moment. Don’t want to mess anything up. Don’t you agree?

  I very much agree.

  And I don’t think I’m going to be able to handle it if he ever feels it’s the “right moment.”

  October 12

  I didn’t do as well on the civics test as I’d hoped. It isn’t a terrible grade, but it isn’t Princeton Summer Program/Getting Into Harvard good. I’m going to have to study harder. Prescott is more challenging than I thought it would be. At my old school I would hardly study and still get As. Trying to slide by like that at Prescott means my grades will slide too. I’m just going to have to spend more time with the books. Warren seems open to me studying in the lab while we work, so that will help.

  Dad called. I realized it was the first time he’d called me since I got here. I’ve called a few times, but this was his first. He wanted to talk about holiday plans. Prescott has two weeks off at the end of the year and most of the students go home or travel somewhere fun with their families. But Dad told me Bex wanted to go to New York with a new friend for skiing and shopping, so she wouldn’t be home much, if at all.

  I’m not 100 percent sure, but I kind of got the impression he was hoping I’m not coming home, either. He and Isa probably want to go somewhere by themselves and not have a teenaged third wheel tagging along. Especially one who is still in the grieving hole, missing her mother and being a total downer and all.

  That hurt, but it also made me angry. So I sucked up my pride and made up a lie about possibly going with Katy instead of coming home, and I definitely heard relief in my dad’s voice then. I know I talk about Mom all the time, mostly just because I want to remember her and know that someone else misses her too. But it’s got to make Dad feel super awkward and probably irritates the hell out of Isa (which I count as a bonus).

  I might actually check with Katy to see if I can tag along, wherever she’s going. Even if Dad was happy about me coming home, I’m not sure I’d want to go. It hasn’t been the same without Mom. She’d always insist on letting us open one present on Christmas Eve, usually something she’d picked out herself, especially for us. The year before she died, she got us matching pajamas. The year before that, glass ornaments we could paint. But of course it was never about the gift. It was just that we did something together, just us girls.

  I’m a little sad that Bex wants to be anywhere else for Christmas. I really wanted to see her. Maybe she doesn’t want to be home without Mom, either.

  Does it make me a horrible person to hope that’s the reason why?

  October 13

  Turns out I didn’t even have to ask. An opportunity presented itself in an awesome way. At lunch today, Drew announced that his family would be spending Christmas in Vermont at a resort. He said his mother has some sort of fantasy-land hope that it will be just like White Christmas, and somehow they’ll all miraculously get along and sing carols and sip hot chocolate and stuff like that.

  That’s exactly the kind of Christmas I’d like, but I kept my mouth shut, since everyone else thought it was ridiculous.

  Katy said she’s going to St. Lucia with her family, which sounded fun and warm but not like anything I’d probably get invited to. I turned to Warren, who had his arm around me again, and asked him where he was going.

  The whole group got quiet, so I knew I’d stepped in something. It was Drew who answered for him.

  Drew: Warren stays at Prescott.

  Warren: Someone has to be here, making the product. Supply doesn’t go down because of the holidays.

  Drew, smiling: Nope, it goes way up. The holiday season makes everyone tense. Our clients especially.

  Drew was basically saying that we needed to sell more of our product because addicts might be especially upset or depressed or lonely this time of year. And for the first time in weeks, I remembered that there is someone on the other end of all this work. There is someone on the other end of the money I’m handed once a week. I lost my appetite.

  Katy must have noticed, because she smiled really big and reassuringly at me.

  Katy: Are you going home, Bailey? What does your family do for Christmas?

  Me, shrugging: I don’t know. I think my dad and Isa really want to be alone. My sister is going skiing with a friend, so if I didn’t come home, he and Isa could have a few weeks to do whatever they want.

  Warren: Then stay here. With me. I certainly wouldn’t mind the help. Or the company.

  Me, my heart thundering in my ears: Really? The school doesn’t mind?

  Warren: There’s hardly anyone here. It’s nice, actually.

  Me: It’s not . . . lonely and sad?

  Warren, his blue eyes staring straight into my soul: It wouldn’t be if you stayed with me.

  It was so intense I could have sworn the rest of the dining hall disappeared and it was just me and Warren and him basically asking me to stay with him, alone, for two weeks.

  But then Katy let out the type of squeal I was kind of mentally doing inside and told us we were beyond cute. Which made me blush and Warren laughed. Then it was time for class and Warren walked me there, apologizing for Katy being so Katy about it. I told him I was happy that perhaps someone else thought we had potential. His blue eyes danced with laughter at that, and I spent all afternoon thinking about holiday break and being alone with Warren instead of listening to my teachers.

  October 13, later

  I called Dad and told him I also had holiday plans and not to expect me home.

  I’m not sure what I hate more: the relief in his voice or that he didn’t even ask what I was doing.

  October 16

  Mr. Callahan gave me the application for the Princeton chemistry program. It doesn’t look too bad, just a bit longer than I expected. They want two teacher recommendations. I think I’ll steer clear of my English teacher. Ha! The second page asks for transcripts of science-related courses. I’ll have to go to the guidance office (always a bit awkward and scary) to get that, I guess, and maybe call my old school. Twice as awkward.

  Midterms are coming up, so I’m really going to have to buckle down. I have a routine, at least. After classes, I catch dinner with Emily or sometimes the Science Club, depending. Emily seems to shut herself in the AV room quite a bit, so a lot of the time she’s not around. Sometimes Katy and I go for coffee and study together (i.e., gossip), or I just go straight to the lab. Depending on where Warren and I are in the process and how many batches we have going, sometimes it takes only an hour. Sometimes, though, we’re in there until midnight or one a.m. After the long days, I feel like I could sleep for a week. I wish I could be like Warren and get by doing the bare minimum in class, but it just doesn’t come that naturally to me. I hate admitting that, but there it is. He’s got to be amazingly smart. I mean, I don’t think I’m dumb or anything, but I’m nowhere near his level. It’s incredible the way his brain works. Just as sexy as his blue eyes or his slow smile.
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br />   Sexy, sexy, sexy.

  ANYWAY.

  As hard as the long nights are (and the mornings after), at least I’m spending time with Warren, getting to know him more, and he’s helping me study. For the most part. Also, Drew dispensed cash again. Katy’s promised me she’ll shop with me this weekend.

  I’m thinking new ski boots for Bex.

  October 21

  Drew didn’t have any business in town on this fine Saturday afternoon, so he let Katy borrow the car. I couldn’t believe it. And I couldn’t believe it even more when we got in and Katy revealed she was actually terrible at driving a stick. It was hilarious. She accidentally killed it about four times before we even got off campus. I’m pretty good at it (Dad insisted on teaching me how to drive a stick when I had my permit because he’s one of those Boy Scout types and didn’t want me to ever be stranded somewhere with only a manual transmission and not be able to drive). So . . . Katy let me drive! With the caveats that we did not tell Drew, that I did not wreck, and that we switched back once we were on campus again.

  I got us safely to the mall, where there was a sporting goods store that would have everything Bex needed.

  We lingered by the cute workout clothes before we made it to the ski section, naturally.

  Katy: Sooooo Warren . . .

  Me, grinning like an idiot: Yes?

  Katy, taking pointed interest in yoga pants: Is it, like, official yet?

  Me: I don’t know? He hasn’t kissed me or anything. We just . . . hang out. Talk a lot. He makes me laugh. But he’s not in a hurry. At all. Like, frustratingly.

  Katy: No, that’s not Warren’s way. But he’s soooo into you.

  Me: How can you tell?