The Perfectionists

Chapter 33

VERY LATE THAT NIGHT, MAL reunited with Evie at Jaime's Big Bite, the only twenty-four-hour restaurant in Kirkland, a town twenty minutes away from Auradon city. On the wood-paneled walls, which dated back to the early eighties, were faded photographs of breakfast food. According to Auradon Prep lore, an order of Jaime's chicken and waffles with a side of maple bacon would magically soak up all the alcohol from your blood and leave you hangover-free the next morning. Back before everything bad happened, Mal and Evie used to stop there on their way home from a party, Mal stoned or drunk and Evie usually sober, since she was the one driving. They would split a massive order of fries and an Oreo shake and giggle over everything crazy that had happened that night. Looking around the restaurant, Mal saw versions of their younger selves doing that exact thing, girls with wilted hair and smudged makeup laughing at stupid drunk jokes. She felt a familiar pang in the pit of her stomach for what could have been . . . if only.

A waitress sat them under a portrait of French toast, and Evie ordered chili fries for both of them. She and Evie sat on the same side of the table, a habit they'd instituted early on, mostly a tongue-in-cheek parody of all the lovey-dovey high school couples who couldn't bear to even spend a single meal not holding hands. Tonight, though, they held hands, too. Mal didn't know about Evie, but gripping someone else's palm kept her hand from wildly trembling.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," Mal mumbled as the waitress placed the fries on the table mere seconds after they ordered.

"Of course," Evie said, grabbing the ketchup bottle. "There was no way I was risking you getting caught. I don't think you could have handled it."

Mal nodded. "You're probably right."

They didn't say much else while they ate. Mal's hands continued to tremble as she swiped a cheese-and-chili-powder-covered fry in ketchup. She felt as if she hadn't eaten in days. She'd had no appetite lately, with everything going on. But maybe, finally, the nightmare was almost over.

She looked up, getting an idea. "Next year, let's go as far away from this shithole as we can," she suddenly blurted.

Evie blinked, then picked up another fry. "Where do you want to go?"

Mal shrugged. "Your Spanish is good. Let's go live in Mexico. Cabo, Cozumel, Cancún. Somewhere on a beach. I bet it's cheap."

"What about college?"

Mal snorted. "No one's going to take me with my grades. And besides, there's no way my mom will pay for it."

Evie looked down at the plate. "Yeah, I don't know how I'm going to pay for it, either. I think I'm going to be stuck here—UDub's resident tuition isn't cheap, but if I work, I should be able to manage it." She saw Mal's face and frowned.

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah," said Mal challengingly. "I am."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Mal's head gave an ominous throb. She suddenly realized that, soon, she and Evie might be apart. She'd always assumed that, no matter what, she and Evie would be together somewhere. If Evie decided to move out of Auradon, what would she do? She couldn't stay here any longer. The place held too many bad memories.

Then Evie's gaze focused on a point to the right. Her cheeks paled, and her mouth fell open. "Oh my god."

"What?" Mal asked, looking up from the plate of fries. She followed Evie's gaze . . . and her jaw dropped, too. Elliot Fielder was standing at the to-go counter, handing the cashier his credit card. He picked up a Styrofoam box and turned to go.

Then his eyes met Mal's, and he froze. Her heart started to pound. She felt herself shrink into the booth. Then, to her horror, Elliot started walking toward them.