Checkmate

26| Low expectations

It takes all my strength to stop myself from texting Blake the minute I get home. Even the next morning, when I turn up at the bikeshed to find he's not there, I don't succumb to the urge. If he'd wanted me to text him, he'd have given me his number.

Still, even though I'm sure he's okay, I can't help but worry. I get through my classes on autopilot, choosing to spend lunch in the library so I can work on my debate, but my efforts are ruined when all I can do is glance at my phone, wondering if I should message him. It's a line I probably shouldn't think to cross given how I obtained his number, but God, do I want to.

Frustration at his absence soon turns to annoyance. My speech is on Tuesday, and my campaign captain is AWOL once again, which wouldn't be so bad if he was actually sick, but something tells me he's not.

Temptation wins out as I pull out my phone, glancing at Mrs. Markley to ensure she's not looking. Any sign of a phone in the library's vicinity gets confiscated and added to her drawer of abandoned cellphones. When she's busy staring at her screen, I open up the chat Freddie made and ask Blake if he's available tonight to meet up for the campaign. Then I tuck my phone away, pick up my pen, and get back to planning my debate.

Or at least back to staring at my page. The seconds' tick by as I sit here, unmoving. Things like this usually come easy to me – I'm the queen of planning and preparation – but all I can think about is how likely it is that Chase will do something to sabotage me.

I won't see it coming, either. Chase is clever enough that anything he does will be too subtle for the untrained eye. But he'll know, and I'll know, and that's what's so awful. If I say so much as point my finger, it'll sound like I'm crazy.

I sigh and play with my bracelet. If Blake were here, he'd tell me to relax and focus on my debate, but he's not, so I spend another few minutes stressing and obsessing before deciding to get it together. Head down, I brainstorm a bunch of ideas and scribble them out again.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything that he hasn't texted me back – maybe he's still asleep. I bite my lip, tempted to send another, which means I've officially entered dangerous territory, so I take a brief walk around the library to help clear my head.

As I'm scanning the bookshelves, a familiar voice sounds on the other side. I peek through a gap in the books and see Chase whispering with Libby. Libby looks upset; she folds her arms, and her eyes are big and wide like she's on the verge of tears, but she doesn't speak.

I back away slowly. If I had any sense, I'd either listen closely or get away, but I do neither. Just like that night at the party, I freeze. It doesn't matter – Libby's voice grows louder as she says, "You could have told me, Chase."

"No," he says, "I couldn't have. We both know you wouldn't have gone through with it."

"So you took away my decision?"

"Libby." His voice softens. He's using the same one he'd use with me whenever I'd disagree with him. "Did you forget what she did to me?"

"I didn't forget," she says, barely audible. "I'm just tired, Chase. I know she hurt you, but isn't it better to move on? This revenge stuff just isn't you."

Except it is him – I just hadn't realized. I don't know how: I've always been the type to scream at the tv when some poor girl doesn't realize how twisted her boyfriend is, but it turns out that girl was me.

I lean forward a little to get a better look. As I'm twisting my neck to see Chase through the books, one of them falls, and they both turn to look at me. Chase's eyes hold mine before he says something to Libby, who gives me a pitiful look before leaving.