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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Carter didn't text me after the day with the sweater, which I was more than okay with. In fact, most of the time I barely even noticed the lack of his presence in my life.
Already, the pressure and stress of my year abroad seemed to be mounting up; even once midterms were over, there were constant looming deadlines. I spent more and more time in the library, at cafes or at the desk in my bedroom. Maya joked that my laptop had practically become an extension of me, but all three of us were the same. Even the time we spent together, in the kitchen or one of the bedrooms, was increasingly just to have some company while we studied individually. Somehow, the end of my first semester at Yale was already rapidly approaching.
I hadn't exactly been a social butterfly so far, and I definitely hadn't attended as many parties as the American college movies implied I would. That had never been my strong suit, even in my first year of university back in London. But in my two roommates, I'd found two good friends, so I was happy with that.
Plus, I got on well with my classmates; Michael and I now chatted every time we had a class together,meeting for a study date or grabbing a drink together occasionally. We made sure to steer clear of Carter as a topic of conversation, though. Just because Carter had been almost entirely absent from my life recently, it didn't change the fact that I was adamant that I had no feelings towards him, whilst Michael was certain I did. (I insisted there was no way he could judge this by that one awkward date, but he claimed to have a knack for knowing these things.)
When I flipped onto the upcoming week in my planner, my eyes fell upon a note I'd written on my first night here: three months at Yale! In a way, I was surprised that the time had gone by so fast, but equally it felt as though I'd been here far longer than that, like this was becoming my new normal, not my home in England. It was a good feeling, proof that I was achieving what I wanted. When I'd told people my plan to apply to spend a year one of the world's top universities, which of course meant moving 3000 miles away from the life I knew, almost everyone had considered me to be at least a little crazy, or at least overly ambitious. Sure, it was a risk. But I'd known then it was a risk worth taking, just as I knew now that this was one of the best decisions I'd ever made.
Also in this week's spread in my planner was the pre-printed notification of Thanksgiving. Both my roommates were going home to their families to celebrate – Maya to New York and Alice to Hartford – which meant I was going to have a few days alone in the apartment. My plan was to spend the time getting some intense study sessions in, without any distractions.
Or, at least, that had been my plan, until Tuesday evening when my phone started ringing abruptly whilst I ate lunch.
I wasn't expecting a call from either of my parents, so I was confused as to who else would be calling instead of just sending a text. My confusion was only furthered when I saw Carter's name flash up on the screen. I couldn't help but remember the only other time he'd called me, drunkenly slurring that I was pretty before his phone was snatched from him.
