Final Room

15 | emma duval

CHAPTER FIFTEEN | EMMA DUVAL

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          "I'm guessing that meeting didn't work out the way you wanted it to," Odette comments, as I pick at my pumpkin soup. It's the only thing my body can stomach at the moment and it saves me from the embarrassment of returning to the café after I ever so casually puked my guts out in front of dozens of people. "I'm sorry. I wish I'd been there; at least you would've had a familiar face in the crowd."

          I shrug, not willing to dwell on what happened. "Claudia was there. It still sucked."

          "Yeah, but it's different. She's in your World Literature class; you and I are friends."

          "Are we?"

          "Sure. Why do you ask?"

          I grip my spoon tight on my hand, so tightly it would draw blood if it were a sharp object. "I don't know. I've always had this feeling that I'm annoying you or that I'm intruding. It's stupid." I shake my head, happy I had the decency to pull my hair back into a bun so it wouldn't fall into my bowl of soup, and she presses her lips together into a thin line. "It's probably nothing, right? I'm overreacting."

          An awkward silence descends on the table and I'm grateful for my soup for giving me an excuse to not look up at Odette. Maybe there's always been a reason why we've never hung out, just the two of us without Betty, but I don't want her to think that's because I don't like her or don't appreciate her company. Though I do like her and appreciate her company, I've always gotten the feeling that she prefers to keep me at arm's length, like she doesn't fully trust me or my intentions.

          I have no desire to steal Betty away from her. I didn't come to Alaska with the sole purpose of ruining other people's friendships to make them feel as lonely and miserable as I do, miles away from everything I've ever known and with all my friends being buried six feet under. I'm under the suspicion that I'm closer to Betty thanks to both an affinity between personalities and to convenience, since she lives right across the street and her sister is kind of dating my brother, kind of isn't, but it's in no way a personal dig at Odette. In fact, I want to be closer to her, but I have a hard time figuring out whether she's looking for the same thing or not.

          She owes me no explanation, nothing, really, but I can't read her, and I'm not sure what she wants me to say or do. Maybe dropping a bomb like this on her was uncalled for, and we're both stuck in a conversation neither of us knows how to continue or even end.

          She's saved from having to come up with an answer by a male voice booming in the distance, startling us both, and I lower myself into my seat, the instinct to become smaller, almost invisible, overpowering my desire to be polite and accessible.

          "OC!" the voice calls. She looks up at something above my head, something she wouldn't normally be able to do considering our height difference, but I'm hunched forward. Before I'm ready, the dark-haired guy I saw her with earlier slides into the empty chair next to hers, stealing a fry from her plate and conveniently not noticing the way she scowls at the gesture. "Hey, I've been looking everywhere for you."

          "You saw me earlier," she points out. tugging at her cardigan's sleeves until they cover half of her palms. He doesn't notice me just yet, but I worry I'll draw too much unnecessary attention towards myself if I make a move to leave the table to give them some privacy. "I'm having lunch."

          "Actually, yeah, I could eat."

          Part of me expects him to keep stealing Odette's lunch, but I'm pleasantly surprised to see him get up and walk towards the end of the line leading up to the counters. Odette straightens once his back is turned to us, as though she, much like me, has to make herself smaller, and my stomach flips with that realization.