In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead
Chapter 42
May, sophomore year
For the first time in a long time, it was just the three of us. Movie night, my favorite, worth suffering through whatever early-aughts film Caro had chosen to see her happy, to see Heather shake her head with secret affection, to lock the door and curl on Caro’s bed and leave the rest of the world on the other side.
Tonight, it felt like we’d dialed time back to freshman year. Just me, Heather, and Caro, before everything else had washed in and made life complicated.
The window was open. The night was dark and hushed, not a sound from campus except for the gentle swish of tree branches in the warm breeze. Sprawled at our feet on the twin bed, Caro snored softly, the credits to Cruel Intentions still rolling on mute.
I scooted closer to Heather and rested my head on her shoulder. My feet brushed Caro, but she didn’t wake. I sighed. “I don’t want this year to end. I wish I could stay right here forever.”
Heather’s cheek rubbed the top of my head. “If you don’t want to go home for the summer, come with me to Cleveland. We can do sleepovers every night. We’ll swim at the club and get wasted on daiquiris and flirt with the tennis instructors.”
I rolled my eyes to cover the fact that she’d zeroed in on exactly what I was dreading. “Do our boyfriends exist in this scenario?”
Heather laughed. “What Jack and Minty don’t know won’t hurt them. Come on. I want a summer-break buddy. We can call you an intern and my dad can pay you.”
I groaned, feeling the weight of everything I’d been ignoring so I could have fun tonight drop back on my shoulders. “I can’t. I have to start studying for the GRE.”
Heather lay down flat on the bed, rustling Caro, who snored on. She crossed her arms, and I knew what was coming. “Jessica Marie Miller, you are a sophomore. That word is synonymous with zero responsibilities. I know I say this a lot, but loosen up. You have two whole years to think about your future. I see you studying like crazy every night, freaking out over every test. It looks miserable.”
I shook my head. Our arms touched, which made me feel warm and safe, like I could be honest. “I have to go to grad school for econ and work in DC.” Like my dad planned, I thought to myself, but didn’t say out loud.
“You have the most specific, boring dreams,” Heather complained.
I shifted onto my side. “Yeah, well, first I have to get perfect grades at Duquette. Then perfect grades in grad school. And then, maybe, I can live a little.” I was certain I’d have a shot if I worked hard enough. I tucked that certainty into a warm place in my heart.
“Perfect, perfect, perfect,” Heather teased, snuggling closer. “You’re obsessed with that word. You know no one is actually perfect, right?”
The unkind thought came quickly: Easy for her to say. She somehow managed to get everything she wanted without having to worry about earning it. She was the exception to the rule.
I swallowed the thought and decided to tell her the truth. “I want to make my parents proud.” No more sorry to inform you. “I want to look back in ten years and know I did everything right.” No more second place, no more punching down.
Heather shifted, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing the little glow-in-the-dark stars Caro had stuck there. Caro, forever obsessed with what she wasn’t allowed to have when she was young.
“In ten years,” Heather said slowly, “you’re not even going to remember the things that seem important now. You’re going to have totally different priorities. I bet you’ll look back and laugh at everything that feels so dramatic now.”
She yawned and bumped my shoulder. “We’ll still be friends, of course, so in ten years, I’ll remind you we had this conversation. You’re going to laugh. Trust me.”
She got excited and turned on her side. “I just had the best idea. Let’s do predictions! I’m super good at them. I’ll bet you a million dollars that ten years from now, I’m famous.”
“How?” I asked, but Heather shrugged. “Don’t know. I like my archaeology class. Maybe I’ll be the female Indiana Jones. Or Hollywood’s hottest plastic surgeon. But most likely reality TV.”
“I thought you said you’re going to major in English.”
“I’ll figure it out along the way. Whatever it is, it’ll be great.” She smirked. “I bet Mint runs his dad’s company and Frankie works for him as his secretary.”
I thought about Mint, who of course was destined for power, the ley lines running straight through him. Inheriting a real estate empire seemed a surefire way to do it. But then I thought of how Mint felt about his father, the secret shame he’d shared with me.
“There’s no way Mint takes over the business. But you’re right that whatever Mint does, Frankie will find a way to follow. What about Coop?” I pressed down the little thrill at saying his name, the memory of the way he’d looked at me on the beach over spring break.
Heather snorted. “Coop will either be a lawyer getting people out of jail or locked in jail himself.”
I frowned. “Just because he smokes pot doesn’t mean he’s a criminal.”
She patted my head. “Sometimes you’re adorable.” She glanced down at Caro, curled at our feet. “Caro says she wants to be a film critic. But that’s not suited for her. She’ll be, like, the president of the Humane Society. Some job where everyone is obligated to love her.”
“Heather,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low so Caro wouldn’t wake and hear.
“Listen, I call it like I see it. Jack, by the way, will end up a minister. At a Southern Baptist church in Georgia. Probably the same crazy one his parents go to.”
“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “Now you’re just being silly.”
“Just wait.” Heather gave me a knowing look. “College is a vacation for Jack. He gets four years to be free, but he’ll have to go back eventually. He’s on borrowed time. Besides, he cares way more about his parents’ approval than he lets on.”
I let the possibility sink in. Was Jack on a temporary reprieve, destined to go backwards after college, rather than forward? He was always so lighthearted when he joked about his evangelical parents, their strict lifestyle, the judgmental church. Was the joking a way of making it light, making himself okay with going back?
I looked at Heather. “And you’re fine with that?”
She snorted. “Jack is lucky he met me. I’m what guarantees his life will always be interesting.” She twisted on the bed. “But you. Jessica Miller, the wildcard. Maybe you’ll go work your boring DC job like some wonky nerd. But I have a feeling you’ll surprise us.”
“Pssh,” I said, though I was secretly thrilled. “No way.”
“Just wait.” Heather lay back down and cuddled close to me. We pressed our heads together and looked out the window at the outline of the trees. “Whatever happens, we’re going to be happy, okay? I promise. So you can stop worrying.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Ten years from now, we’re going to be on top of the world together. You and me, looking down on everyone else, laughing and laughing.”