When Sydney Sherwood was thirteen, she fell in love. She was utterly enamoured with Carter Pearson - the cute, enigmatic, brilliant fourteen year old who lived across the street. But, after only a few months, Carter and his family disappeared, leavi...
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It seemed to have come around impossibly quickly, but my first semester at Yale was rapidly drawing to a close, bringing with it several deadlines. I spent my Monday morning scheduling the upcoming week that saw the end of my studies until the new year. Thankfully, I had only two exams left, on Tuesday and Friday. Then, I'd have a week left in the States before I flew back to England to spend Christmas and New Years at home. As much as I'd miss Maya and Alice, I was excited about being back in England - as long as my beloved old dog, Pippa, still recognised me upon my return. It was only when I brought Carter into the equation, and contemplated how I'd feel being away from him, that it got complicated.
But, right now, I simply didn't have time to worry about him. It may have been my first year of uni in London that got me here, but my grades had never felt more important; I had to do well here because I had so much to prove. I had to prove to everyone who'd questioned me that coming here was worth the cost, the struggle, the potential upheaval in my education. But, more than that, I had to prove to myself that I'd made the right choice, that it was worth working such long, exhausting hours at the local McDonald's in order to save up for this, that I was good enough to be somewhere so prestigious. I'd come to love it here, and I just hoped that my grades would reflect this.
So, more than ever, studying overwhelmed all other parts of my life. I spent my entire Monday in the library, not even bringing my phone, so that I wouldn't be distracted. I met Michael for a study date over lunch, tactfully avoiding his inevitable curiosity about Carter ("Michael, I'm pretty sure my love life is not going to be one of the questions on the exam tomorrow. Paradise Lost, however, will be.") Besides that, Carter barely crossed my mind, temporarily pushed out by the likes of Orwell, Atwood and Milton.
When I got home, arriving back at the apartment in the dark, I could barely keep my eyes open. Trudging to the kitchen, I planned on reheating my leftover pasta bake from yesterday night then going straight to bed. The table inside was strewn all over with notebooks, loose sheets of paper and textbooks, which I'd come to recognise as a clear sign Maya had been studying in here.
It occurred to me abruptly that I'd been so preoccupied with myself, I hadn't found out what happened between Alice and Sam after he called last night to resolve, or perhaps simply continue, their argument. The moment the microwave pinged, I grabbed my food and carry it across to their room.
"Hey, Alice, you in?"
I heard her shuffling to the door and unlocking it before it swung open. She looked remarkably happy, so I hoped it meant that the outcome of the argument was a positive one. "Sydney! Come in!"
We sat beside each other on the bed, both cross legged, as I scoffed down my pasta. Without prompting, Alice began to explain her change of mood since I last saw her.
"So, Sam called me last night, and everything was sorted," she said, beaming. "He said he wanted to keep it a secret, so that it could be a surprise, but it was better to tell me early than let us fight over it."
