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**PART SIXTEEN**

When Annabelle abruptly ended the call, I had no idea how to react.

Was she upset? Annoyed? Did she just need to process what I said, or was it something else entirely? I didn’t know the girl nearly well enough after one day to read her, especially not over the phone.

Even worse, what was I supposed to do with myself while I waited? It would have been one thing if she had simply picked Bridget over me; after I pushed back a little more, of course. Knowing my old rival was reaping the advantages of an opportunity that should have been mine would have stung, and I can’t imagine how long I’d need to get over it. But now the band-aid was still in place, instead of being ripped off. I had no idea which way Annabelle might lean, and the suspense was already killing me.

Also, what did she mean by a few hours? That could mean anything to a teenager. Or to a university student, I guess.

It was already 9 PM. I typically went to bed between ten and eleven on weekdays, depending on how early my first class was the following morning. Hopefully Annabelle would call before then. I really didn’t want to stay up later than necessary, but I also didn’t want to get to bed with my phone’s volume on and answer with a groggy voice when I woke up to the eventual ringtone by my ear. Although sleep wasn’t gonna come easily; I’d probably just toss and turn, stewing at the wondered of Bridget tutoring Annabelle.

For the moment, I needed to distract myself. Studying wasn’t gonna happen for the rest of the night; there was no way I could focus enough to make anything crucial stick. While I considered myself fairly patient, I also wasn’t the type of girl to just laze around and twiddle my thumbs. Sighing to myself, I got up and settled on doing chores to kill time. Might as well. Save for one issue–my apartment stayed pretty clean. Not because I’m a neat freak, but because I spent most of the day at college. I didn’t do much but eat, sleep, and study at my place. Laundry and vacuuming were out, as I didn’t want to disturb my neighbors at a later hour. After pacing around for a few minutes, looking around in an effort to think about what needed to be done, I decided to dump out my backpack on my desk and reorganize both the bag and my study space.

Halfway through the process, my phone buzzed. *‘That was fast!’* I wondered. The vibrations on the desk off to my left actually startled me, as barely fifteen minutes had passed since Annabelle hung up. Assuming it was her, I almost picked up without even checking first. Thankfully, I caught a glimpse of the screen just before I slid my finger over the ‘Answer’ section at the base of my phone.

Bridget was calling me?

Should I answer? I hadn’t spoken to the girl since high college. There was no way this was a coincidence. But Annabelle wasn’t supposed to tell her about me! That’s the last thing I wanted. Bridget all the time played dirty. I almost missed a competition once because she had gone out of her way to design letters and emails that were almost identical to the originals, but with false information. And that’s just one example.

If she heard that I was standing in the way of a lucrative opportunity, then I could only imagine what she might have said to Annabelle about me. But why was she calling? To gloat that the job was hers, or to threaten me? I was never scared of the girl; that couldn’t be it. There was only one way to understand . . .

On what might have been the last ring, I picked up the phone. “What do you want, Bridget?”

“Hey, Meredith!” Her voice was chipper, like we were best friends reunited or something, but I could hear the subtle bite behind it. “I just had a very interesting conversation with a mutual acquaintance of ours. Did you really bail on such a perfect job? Just like that?”

Ugh, I didn’t BAIL. My schedule was busy, as I had explained to Annabelle’s parents. Add on the insulting chores and having to deal with an eighteen year old’s partial nudity, and I just wasn’t ready to commit to anything. Maybe I would have felt differently if I was handed all that cash sooner, but it was too late to dwell on stuff like that.

Except, I couldn’t tell all that to Bridget. Partially because I didn’t want to give her any ammo to potentially use against me, and partially because it would be a nice consolation prize to know that she was potentially doing chores instead of tutoring. For someone who has the attitude of a girl who never lifts a finger to help out around the house, I doubt Bridget would enjoy spending an hour cleaning the kitchen.

“What do you want?” I repeated. While I was insanely curious about what she and Annabelle talked about, there was no way I’d be baited into asking about it. Either she could cut to the chase, or I could hang up.

“Well, funny story,” she said, “Cute little Anna was asking if I’d be interested in co-tutoring with someone else. Hell no; obvi. I’m not going to give up half my pay to some other girl. But then she said it would be with you. Come on, Mere. Wouldn’t it be fun to work together again? Just like old times!”

My amusement towards ‘cute little Anna,’ as that didn’t describe the confident redhead at all, quickly faded when Bridget used Annabelle’s occasional nickname for me. “No, thanks,” I flatly said.

“I agree,” Bridget replied, “I thought about it for a sec, but decided that Anna deserves the best. You would only be getting in the way.”

Then, to my shock, she concluded with, “So I told her I’d do the job for free.”

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