Unfinished Business (Élite)

Chapter 13

Vic yawns. She's not a morning person at the best of times. Waking up early on a weekend is a special kind of hell. Ander has the decency to at least have some fresh coffee ready when she gets to his house. They haven't suddenly become besties during their fascinating research into human cells, but the school library only opens on weekdays, and they need to finish their project before Monday.

The weather is nice enough that they can work in the terrace and Ander's mom, the school's principal, has taken the liberty of making them cookies. Ander seems embarrassed when she brings them out.

"It's great to have you around, Victoria," she says, smiling. That woman smiles an awful lot.

"Hmm," is all Vic can respond. Her answering smile probably looks more like a grimace.

She's not sure why Azucena is so happy to have her. This is the first time Vic's come to their house for a reason other than a party, and Ander can't be singing her praises to his parents. He's warmed up to her a little bit, but not that much. He doesn't irradiate hostility in her presence anymore, and they've developed a strange tradition of bringing each other snacks whenever they meet up for their biology project. But he still acts like both a fussing mother and a force field whenever Guzmán is around.

"You have to leave before lunchtime," he tells her an hour later.

"And here I thought we were eating together. I was thinking we could hit that new Indian in town."

The look she gets from Ander is ludicrously funny.

"I'm kidding." Unbelievable that she has to explain this.

Ander ignores her irony. "Guzmán is coming around two."

"And you want me out of the way by then. Got it." Vic's tone is devoid of humour now. This whole acting like she's got the plague or something is getting old. But it's pointless to argue with him.

Two pm comes around and there's no sign of Guzmán. They are putting the finishing touches on their project, but Ander's constantly checking his phone, which means Vic is pretty much working on her own.

"It's not like him to be late," she says without taking her eyes off the laptop.

"I know that," Ander snaps, as if she's not allowed to know things about Guzmán.

Fifteen minutes go by. Ander's knee is bouncing so hard the table is shaking.

Vic sighs, saves the document and closes the laptop. "Call him."

Oddly enough, Ander does. "He's not picking up."

"Give me his number," Vic orders, getting her phone out.

"If you don't have it, there must be a reason," Ander reproaches pretentiously.

"Are you fucking serious right now? Something could have happened and you are more worried about your pride than you are about your so-called best friend?"

Ander gives her the number.

"It's off now," Vic informs him after getting Guzmán's voicemail. She worries at her lip piercing.

"Shit," Ander curses. He stands up. Paces around. Puts his hands on his head. Calls Guzmán again. No answer.

"Let's go," Vic says, hurriedly putting her things in her tote bag. "We can take my bike."