Conventionally Yours (True Colors) Read online

  “The doctors here have excellent ratings, you know. It’s not a nationally ranked teaching hospital for nothing. They’ll take good care of Professor Tuttle.” Facts were more comforting to me than false platitudes, but given the way Conrad blinked at me, perhaps I should have opened with something more like “he’ll be okay” even though I had no way of guaranteeing that.

  “What did your mom say?”

  “They hadn’t called her for a neurology consult yet, which she says is good. She’s going to see what she can find out.”

  “Good.” Conrad scrubbed at his hair, making it even more unruly than it already was. He used to always keep it short and tamed with product, but lately it always seemed a few weeks overdue for a trim. “Can’t believe this happened. It’s all my fault for not insisting he let me carry everything.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I wanted to pat his leg or arm, the way Mimi might if I were the one upset, but I knew better than to touch Conrad right then. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have argued with you. And I’m sorry.”

  “‘Sorry’ isn’t going to fix Professor Tuttle.” Conrad blew out a harsh breath. “But I argued back. So it’s on both of us, really.”

  That wasn’t the same as “apology accepted,” but it was probably about as good as I was going to get.

  “Yeah. But I’m the one who…” I swallowed hard because admitting I’d been wrong was never easy. “What did you mean by if I knew the truth about you and school?”

  His laugh was a brittle, jagged thing. “You don’t get that story. Not now. Not while I’m still so pissed at you—at me, at both of us—that I can’t think straight. Sorry.”

  “Fair enough.” I hated the disappointment that made my muscles sag. He was right. I had no right to his story, whatever had really happened to him, but it didn’t stop me from wanting it as the minutes ticked away. The initial rush of trying to make it to the hospital had given way to the monotony of waiting, time passing with the slowness of a standardized test even as the urgency in my chest didn’t let up.

  “I’m here.” Professor Herrera came charging into the waiting room right as my eyes started to glaze over from waiting. Tall and broad-shouldered and somewhat younger than Professor Tuttle, he had a commanding presence as he loomed over us. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

  “I’m so sorry, sir. It was an accident.” Conrad did a better job than I was capable of at relaying the limited facts we had.

  “And how is he now?” Professor Herrera’s cultured voice was way calmer than either Conrad’s or mine.

  “We don’t know,” Conrad said miserably. “They haven’t told us anything.”

  “Well, they better tell me. You guys wait here. I’ll go see if they’ll let me see him, then come back and update you.” Radiating confidence, he hurried away, and I settled further into my chair. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could be argued with. If he said wait, then wait we would.

  Sometime later Jasper came back with three cans of soda. I almost never had soda—the moms had been strict about junk food growing up—but Conrad accepted his gratefully, so I did the same thing, right down to mimicking his nod.

  “Thanks, man,” he said to Jasper.

  “Thanks,” I repeated and took a sip before I set it aside. The last thing we needed was me hyped up on sugar and caffeine.

  We watched a bad true-crime show on the waiting-room TV and generally avoided talking to one another. My mom messaged that she didn’t know much more than that he was stable and getting tests, which I shared with the others, who nodded, then went silent again. I wished yet again for the sort of social ease people like my sisters had. They’d know how to cut this tension, get the other two talking. Anything to make this feel less funereal. Someone must have texted Payton, who stopped by on the way to a graduation party, bringing sandwiches that we all picked at. Shortly after Payton left, Professor Herrera came back out in time to claim one of the remaining sandwiches.

  “He has a broken collarbone, a broken hip, and shoulder and knee injuries,” he reported, sinking into one of the empty chairs. “No concussion that they can see, but they’re working on admitting him now, getting him comfortable before surgery in the coming days. I know you’ve all probably got places to be, but he did say he’d like to talk to you once he’s in a room.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. We can wait.” Conrad didn’t bother looking at either Jasper or me, not that I would have objected. My guilt over what had happened kept clawing at me, making it hard to think. And while I didn’t think that Professor Tuttle would be able to make me feel any better, I wanted to see him, see if there was anything we could do for him.

  “Yeah. I told my folks I’d be here awhile. They wanted to know if there’s anything they could do, and Mom said to tell Professor Herrera that she’s making an extra lasagna tomorrow for you for when he comes home.”

  “Your parents are good people, Jasper.” Professor Herrera gave a weary half smile before standing. “And I’ve told you before, Julio is fine. Gus doesn’t need all that Professor Tuttle business either. You guys are friends now, not simply students.”

  “I don’t think I could ever get used to that.” Conrad’s laugh was brittle, but I had to agree. I didn’t have his propensity to tack “sir” onto the end of sentences, but I also couldn’t see either of them as anything other than professors. As Professor Herrera walked away, I tried thinking of him as Julio. Nope. It simply didn’t compute. It made me strangely warm, though, knowing that Professor Tuttle thought of us as friends, and that made it easier to keep waiting.

  Finally after several episodes of some courtroom drama on the waiting-room TV, Professor Herrera reappeared. “He’d like to see you now. They’ve given him some medication, but he’s remarkably alert considering what he’s been through. Still, let’s not keep him too long.”

  “Understood, sir.” Conrad led the way as we followed Professor Herrera away from the ER, down several corridors to a hospital room. Not the ICU—a regular room with two beds, one of which was empty. Professor Tuttle looked smaller, lying there in a blue hospital gown, and older too. Professor Herrera was probably early sixties like my moms, but Professor Tuttle was more like midseventies, a fact that I often forgot because he brought so much energy to the classroom and the game.

  “This is not your fault,” Professor Tuttle pronounced as we lined up in front of the bed, Conrad closest to him, continuing to look as though he’d flunked every final and lost his dog the same day.

  “Yes, it is,” he said miserably.

  “I was foolish, forgetting the box upstairs and not waiting for help. And now I’ve ruined all our plans.”

  “It’s okay.” Jasper’s sigh echoed that of Conrad, who was now studying his beat-up sneakers. “They can probably use me around home anyway. It’ll work out.”

  “No, no, you are not staying home.” Professor Tuttle’s voice was surprisingly firm, given his situation.

  “Last-minute plane tickets…” Conrad shook his head. “Not happening, sir. Sorry.”

  Nothing that had happened in the last few hours had made me any more capable of flying, despite how disappointed I was. I had wanted that victory so, so badly. I swore I could almost feel the trophy slipping through my fingers. I, too, shook my head.

  “It’ll be okay.” There. See? I was capable of the feelings-sparing white lies that other people could reel off so easily. Occasionally.

  “No, it won’t. And I’ve been talking to Julio in between tests. I want you to go. Take Black Jack with our blessing. Julio’s going to give you cash for gas. I was always planning on paying for that myself.”

  “We can’t take your car, sir.” Conrad’s eyes flickered briefly, like a hope he’d immediately stomped down. “No offense, but this is probably the painkillers talking.”

  “It isn’t.” Professor Herrera spoke from behind us. “We’re in agreement. Gus
was so looking forward to this trip. And that car… Not like we use it daily, and not like Gus is going to be up to driving it for a few months. Like he says, it was meant for a trip like this. And if he can’t go, at least you guys can.”

  “We can’t—”

  “You can. And you’ll be helping me.” Professor Tuttle frowned then, the first sign of pain I’d seen on his face since we entered the room. “Apparently I’m going to be laid up weeks.”

  “Months,” Professor Herrera corrected.

  “Yes, yes. That. And if you don’t go, then we’re hanging around, all of us miserable. But if you go, you can send me pictures and videos from the road, distract me. Give me content for the channel.”

  “Like you need more subscribers,” Professor Herrera muttered before brightening. “But if it keeps Gus happy, then I’m in favor of it. Send him lots of pictures. FaceTime. Keep his spirits up, probably far better than I can.”

  “Exactly. And you are all celebrities in your own rights. The local gaming stores will still be happy to have you stop in, I’m sure. I’ll make some calls tomorrow.”

  “More like I will call for you,” Professor Herrera said gently. “But yes, you guys can take the signed books and Gamer Grandpa merchandise. And the car is already packed, right? It simply makes sense.”

  Packed was an optimistic overstatement—we’d tossed the luggage in the trunk in an untidy heap as part of our mad dash for Jasper’s car.

  “I still think this is nuts, but if it’ll make you happy, I’ll do it, sir.” Conrad was first to agree.

  “Me too,” Jasper added.

  “Alden?” Professor Tuttle looked right at me.

  I had a feeling the other two would probably like it if I declined, and honestly, it might make their lives easier. But despite our earlier argument—or maybe because of it—I couldn’t let Conrad take on the trip alone. Jasper either. At least if I went, I could help with expenses. I’d figure out the driving part and get past my nerves there. I could help the professor, too, make sure the others didn’t do anything stupid. And even after all that happened, I still wanted to go, wanted to win. I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. The thought of spending the next few weeks at home, Mom and Mimi pushing me to make decisions I wasn’t ready for, me trying and most likely failing to meet their expectations, made my back sweat—the sort of itchy, clammy feeling I hated. At least going would be doing something.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m going.”

  Chapter Seven

  Conrad

  I wasn’t forgiving Alden anytime soon.

  Wait. That wasn’t entirely accurate. As I made my way to Professor Tuttle’s house Sunday morning, dodging early-morning sprinklers and crack-of-dawn joggers, it was more myself that I couldn’t forgive. I couldn’t help feeling like I could have prevented his injuries if only I hadn’t been distracted by Alden and our stupid argument. Seeing the professor lying there at the bottom of the stairs had made my chest feel split open, made it hard to breathe in and out, be calm for him.

  I wasn’t going to get over it anytime soon. Neither Alden nor Jasper had been as upset as me the day before. Alden had been all infuriatingly logical, while Jasper had been overly helpful, and I was the one freaking out. Which I supposed made sense. They wouldn’t understand where I was coming from. Alden had his moms doting on him, while Jasper had his huge family that baked casseroles for people they barely knew, and I had…

  Well, I supposed my life was divided into before and after. Before, I had a wide friendship circle. Not too many besties, but lots of people who knew my name and invited me to things. And I had my family. After? My social life had shrunk as the result of work until it was basically only the game play group. The less I thought about family the better, but that too was gone. Professor Tuttle wasn’t my dad or my grandpa or anything like that, but he was important to me in a way that I doubted he was for the other three in our group.

  Maxine, my professor landlord, had heard about the accident and had been all upset the night before when I’d finally made it in. I’d already lied and told her I had a plan for after the trip, so adding one more lie that we’d be fine without Professor Tuttle barely registered on my list of sins.

  “Professor Goldstein’s son is going, right? He’s got a good head on his shoulders. You listen to him if you run into trouble.”

  “I will,” I’d said, even though Alden was not the leader of this little trip, no matter what he thought. He might be older than me by a couple of years, but he wasn’t the boss of me, and as for having a good head on his shoulders, that remained to be seen. Good at a card game did not automatically translate into real-world street smarts as I had so rudely found out in the past year. And listen to him? Him with his big opinions and his low assumptions? Ha.

  Jasper was exiting his older sister’s Bug when I arrived at the house. He’d bummed a ride from her because he hadn’t wanted to leave his car at Professor Tuttle’s house. Alden was already there, waiting by Professor Tuttle’s car. And yeah, the professor kept pushing for us to call him Gus, but old habits died hard. I kept thinking of Maxine as Professor Jackson half the time, even now. And it was still Professor Herrera to me, not Julio. Julio was a buddy you played cards and drank with on a Saturday night, not this stately older gentleman crossing the lawn, holding out a fat envelope of cash.

  He was fully dressed in what looked to be churchgoing clothes—button-down shirt, tie, pressed pants. He and Professor Tuttle were regulars at some sort of inclusive church downtown, the sort of “welcoming” congregation that went against most of what I’d thought I’d known about religion before arriving at Gracehaven for school. And they must have been pretty darn tolerant, given the professor’s obsession with a card game where we regularly summoned demons to journey through the underworld with us. I had to smile at that thought as I sped up to meet Professor Herrera partway. My parents’ church wasn’t nearly so cool.

  Oh well. I’d long ago stopped caring what any church thought of me or what I did. But, still, it was nice of Professor Herrera to see us off. Nicer still for the gas money, which would make my own limited funds go further.

  “Thank you, sir.” I took the money. The car had a locking glove box, so I placed the money there before Alden could suggest that he take possession of it. Last thing I wanted was him doling out funds like Jasper and I were his wayward charges. “We’ll take good care of Black Jack, I promise.”

  “I know you will. Gus thinks the world of you guys. And you flooding him with messages and photos and videos will be exactly what he needs.”

  “Let’s start now.” Jasper whipped out his phone and had Professor Herrera take a picture of the three of us by the car. I glanced at the picture before he hit Send—Jasper looked sleepy but excited with a wide smile, while Alden had a suspicious tilt to his firm jaw and narrowed eyes. I was in the middle between them, closer to Jasper, taller than both, warier than Jasper but less apprehensive than Alden. If this was the before picture, I could only hope the after when we arrived in Vegas wouldn’t show us battle-worn and bloody.

  “Who’s driving first?” Professor Herrera held out the keys, which were on a ring with a twenty-sided die key chain and another with the logo for the Gamer Grandpa show.

  No one rushed to answer, so I took the keys. “I am.”

  “I suppose that works.” Alden could say he wasn’t nervous about driving until he turned purple, and I still wasn’t going to believe him. The car intimidated him. It did me, too, but I was determined to not show it as I slid behind the wheel.

  “Shotgun,” Jasper called, which left Alden to ride behind us. First, he gave Professor Herrera a little basket of muffins. Like, not even a plastic container or bag like normal people. A basket, as if it wasn’t enough that his moms had brilliant medical minds, but they also had to have mad domestic skills. At least he had the decency to blush, as though he kn
ew how absurdly perfect his family was.

  “We can have ours when we stop for gas,” he said primly. “No eating in the car.”

  I sighed because I had a feeling this was the first of many decrees from Alden that I’d have to ignore.

  “It cleans.” Professor Herrera laughed, but Alden didn’t. “Drive safe. Text Gus often.”

  “We will,” I said before I closed the door. Backing out with him watching us made my neck prickle and my hands tense, and I waited until we were safely clear of the house to say to Jasper, “Can you call up GPS on your phone?”

  “I took the liberty of printing maps as a backup as well as copies of our itinerary and scheduled stops,” Alden spoke up before Jasper could answer.

  “Thank you.” I worked for a civil tone, as that was helpful even if the subtext was that we were both too stupid to think of such things.

  “Even if you go slightly under the speed limit, we should still keep to the schedule—”

  “Are you going to watch the speedometer the whole way to Vegas? Seriously, man? How about you let me get on the highway first?” The car drove exactly as I’d expected it to—wide turns and plodding acceleration balanced by a smooth ride. Unless I floored it, the risk of speeding wasn’t anywhere near what Alden feared. A Ferrari, this thing was not.

  “Fine. Jasper can turn up the GPS to help you.” Alden neither promised to not watch my speed nor changed his autocratic attitude. I could practically feel the tension rolling off him, and I got that he was likely uncomfortable about this whole situation, but damn it, so was I.

  “No music?” Jasper pouted even as he complied, setting his GPS to bark at me in the weird British voice that he had his set to. “Not that this stereo looks like it can connect to my phone anyway, which sucks as I’ve got the perfect playlist for us.”