Page 73 of Us in Ruins
She’d quit a hundred things before. Robotics club, badminton, a brief stint where she wanted to join a race car pit crew. This was no different. So, why did the thought of leaving have such a bitter aftertaste? Unwilling to meet Suki’s curious eyes, Margot said, “I told you. I’m packing. To go back home.”
Suki shot straight up and bumped her head on the top bunk. Cradling what would definitely turn into a sore spot, she squawked, “No way. But we’ve got so much summer left.”
“You don't have to act surprised. It’s not like my mom’s a world-renowned museum curator like yours or I’m the descendant of a long line of archaeological prodigies like Astrid. Or one of the guys. I’m pretty sure Rex has a constant loop of TikToks in his head instead of a brain, but even he’s treated like he belongs here.”
“Margot, you heard Dr. Hunt. You totally earned your spot here. I read your essay, and it was amazing.” At that, Margot shot her a disbelieving look, but Suki bulldozed on. “I heard Lance Kiebler didn’t get in, and Lance’s aunt is, like, an Egyptologist who discovered a new tomb or something.”
Margot focused on stuffing her socks into a pink packing cube. “But Pasha Manikas—”
“Pasha, Pasha, Pasha,” Suki said with a groan. “Pasha’s family summers in Naples every year anyway because her dad’s a volcanologist. Who cares if she didn’t come?”
“Astrid,” Margot said with a stiff laugh, “who will be thrilled to learn I’ll be out of her hair soon.”
Suki rolled off the bed and landed next to Margot’s suitcase. Her bottom lip pouted. “You seriously can’t leave. You’re the only other person here who cares about more than a bunch of old stuff. And your stunt at La Galleria Bianchi landed me another date with Fernanda, so I’m not even jealous that you totally have a crush on Chad.”
“First of all,” Margot said, “I do not have a crush on Chad.”
Suki’s eyebrows raised. “Like I said. Terrible liar.”
Margot flopped dramatically onto her back, starfished across the floor. “Maybe Astrid was right. I’m just not cut out for this.”
Suki laughed, full bellied and bright. When she came up for air, she sobered immediately, realizing Margot hadn’t been laughing with her. “Oh,” she said, “you weren’t joking. Come on, Margot. Astrid’s like that with everyone. It’s not personal.”
“It sure seems personal.” All week she’d been on the receiving end of Astrid’s jabs, and her defenses were at an all-time low.
Methodically, Suki started unpacking everything Margot had packed. She grabbed the pair of pants Margot had just stuffed into her suitcase. “Okay, fine. You’re a little out of your element, but you’re not afraid to try anything. You do what you want. That’s badass.”
But it didn’t feel badass. It felt like being on a roller coaster she didn’t choose to board. Unbuckled. And there were loops. So, really, she just spent all her time trying to hold on, and now every part of her was tired and sore.
She wiggled the pair of jeans out from Suki’s grasp and dropped it back in the suitcase. “I’ve messed everything up. With Dr. Hunt, with my dad, with everyone.”
“Everyone?” Suki asked. “Or Chad?”
Margot gave a small, sad shrug. “What would Alison Bechdel say?”
Suki scooted closer. “I do know what Catherine Avery Hannigan would say.”
A mixture of emotions gurgled out of Margot. Two parts laugh, one part sob. She and Suki might have actually turned out to be good friends if she could have stayed the summer. “What would she say?”
“Chapter twenty-seven,” Suki said. “Isla and Reed are on the charter boat, just after escaping the Tunnels of Claudius. Do you remember what he said to her?”
It wasn’t uncommon for Margot to be brought to tears, but the first time she’d read chapter twenty-seven, she’d needed an hour to recover from emotional damages. She quoted, “My heart is yours, every beat and every breath between. There are no vestiges of me that have not been transformed by you.”
Even saying the words aloud brought moisture to Margot’s eyes. She blinked, leaning her head back like she might convince the tears not to fall.
“I think,” Margot said, composing herself, “that Chad and I are in more of a chapter twenty-nine situation.”
Suki gasped. “Not chapter twenty-nine.”
Margot tried to tell herself that running away was easier than staying, fighting, but the remnants of this afternoon’s anger had yellowed into an aching bruise. She felt carved open, like her heart had been torn out and left behind, bleeding dry.
Absentmindedly, her fingers trailed along her bracelet. Jade beads beneath her fingertips. She hadn’t taken it off. But it was too late, now.
The thought was a knife, the kind that might have carved her initials next to Van’s into the bark of the willow tree in her backyard. She’d wanted the Vase so badly that she never stopped to realize what was right in front of her.
“Yes,” Margot whispered. “He’s gone because I left him.”
25