lacks storage space. What the RA chooses to do with his or her extra furniture isn’t any of our concern, so long as it’s back in the room by the time he or she has moved out.
Jasmine had chosen to use both of her beds, one as a couch for visitors to lounge on, and the other for sleeping. I’m sitting on the one she’d reserved for visitors. The other bed is the one on which Jasmine lies, very, very dead.
“Gavin?” I say, when the person on the other end of the phone picks up.
“Hey, Heather,” he says. He sounds a lot more subdued than when we’d spoken earlier. “Sarah told me. Bummer.”
Only Gavin would call a girl dying in the prime of her life a “bummer.”
“Yes,” I say. “It is, indeed, a bummer. Have the police shown up yet?”
“No. I heard there’s a subway fire over at the Christopher Street station. You know they never show up for a dead body if there are live people they have a chance of saving. You guys shouldn’t have said Jasmine’s dead. You should have said she’s dying. Then they’d come faster.”
I sigh at the truth of this. “Is Sarah there?”
“She’s here,” he says, not sounding too thrilled about it. “She’s, like, crying all over the magazines I was saving to read later.”
“Gavin,” I say. “You’re not supposed to read other people’s magazines. You’re supposed to put them in the mailboxes of the people to whom they are addressed.”
“I know,” Gavin says. “But there’s been another death in the building, and the new issue of Entertainment Weekly just arrived. I need something to calm my nerves.”
I look at the fluffy white clouds Jasmine painted on the ceiling. “Fine. Listen, Gavin. Can you do me a favor?”
“For you? Anything.”
“Good. I need you to get out the emergency phone list—”
It’s his turn to sigh.
“—and text all RAs that there’s going to be an emergency staff meeting today at six in the second-floor library. Oh, and then can you put a sign on the door of the second-floor library that it’s going to be closed for a meeting at six? We’re going to have to break the news to them about Jasmine.”
Gavin says, “Intense. I’ll do it, but if you’d let me set up a group text on your phone, you could do it yourself next time.”
“I sincerely hope there isn’t going to be a next time, Gavin. And I don’t think my phone knows how to do that.”
“Your phone knows how to do it,” Gavin says, sounding amused. “ You don’t. Look, I get a break in an hour. Why don’t you let me take you to lunch in the caf, and I’ll set up the group text for you.”
“Gavin,” I say, with practiced patience. “I’m engaged. You got an invitation to my wedding, remember? You RSVP’d that you’re coming . . . with your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’re not married yet. There’s still a chance for me. I’m pretty sure I can win you over with my advanced technological know-how, which is vastly superior to your fiancé’s, or he’d have shown you how to group text, or even text, period, something I’ve noticed you seem to have a little trouble with. Not that it bothers me. It only makes you even more adorable.”
“Gavin,” I say, with a glance at Jasmine. “This is a highly inappropriate time for you to be hitting on me. Not that there’s ever an appropriate time to hit on your boss. Besides, what about Jamie? She’s a lovely girl, who is also your age .”
“I know,” he says. “But I met you first. Anyway, Jamie knows how I feel about you. We have an arrangement. You’re my freebie.”
“Your what?”
“My celebrity freebie. If I ever get a chance with you, Jamie says it’s okay to take it. Her celebrity freebie is Robert Downey Jr., but she says she only wants him if he’s in his Iron Man suit, so I don’t think that one is going to happen.”
“How nice,” I say. “Please will you just send the group text?”
“Okay, but I don’t know how many of those RAs are going to show
Jasmine had chosen to use both of her beds, one as a couch for visitors to lounge on, and the other for sleeping. I’m sitting on the one she’d reserved for visitors. The other bed is the one on which Jasmine lies, very, very dead.
“Gavin?” I say, when the person on the other end of the phone picks up.
“Hey, Heather,” he says. He sounds a lot more subdued than when we’d spoken earlier. “Sarah told me. Bummer.”
Only Gavin would call a girl dying in the prime of her life a “bummer.”
“Yes,” I say. “It is, indeed, a bummer. Have the police shown up yet?”
“No. I heard there’s a subway fire over at the Christopher Street station. You know they never show up for a dead body if there are live people they have a chance of saving. You guys shouldn’t have said Jasmine’s dead. You should have said she’s dying. Then they’d come faster.”
I sigh at the truth of this. “Is Sarah there?”
“She’s here,” he says, not sounding too thrilled about it. “She’s, like, crying all over the magazines I was saving to read later.”
“Gavin,” I say. “You’re not supposed to read other people’s magazines. You’re supposed to put them in the mailboxes of the people to whom they are addressed.”
“I know,” Gavin says. “But there’s been another death in the building, and the new issue of Entertainment Weekly just arrived. I need something to calm my nerves.”
I look at the fluffy white clouds Jasmine painted on the ceiling. “Fine. Listen, Gavin. Can you do me a favor?”
“For you? Anything.”
“Good. I need you to get out the emergency phone list—”
It’s his turn to sigh.
“—and text all RAs that there’s going to be an emergency staff meeting today at six in the second-floor library. Oh, and then can you put a sign on the door of the second-floor library that it’s going to be closed for a meeting at six? We’re going to have to break the news to them about Jasmine.”
Gavin says, “Intense. I’ll do it, but if you’d let me set up a group text on your phone, you could do it yourself next time.”
“I sincerely hope there isn’t going to be a next time, Gavin. And I don’t think my phone knows how to do that.”
“Your phone knows how to do it,” Gavin says, sounding amused. “ You don’t. Look, I get a break in an hour. Why don’t you let me take you to lunch in the caf, and I’ll set up the group text for you.”
“Gavin,” I say, with practiced patience. “I’m engaged. You got an invitation to my wedding, remember? You RSVP’d that you’re coming . . . with your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’re not married yet. There’s still a chance for me. I’m pretty sure I can win you over with my advanced technological know-how, which is vastly superior to your fiancé’s, or he’d have shown you how to group text, or even text, period, something I’ve noticed you seem to have a little trouble with. Not that it bothers me. It only makes you even more adorable.”
“Gavin,” I say, with a glance at Jasmine. “This is a highly inappropriate time for you to be hitting on me. Not that there’s ever an appropriate time to hit on your boss. Besides, what about Jamie? She’s a lovely girl, who is also your age .”
“I know,” he says. “But I met you first. Anyway, Jamie knows how I feel about you. We have an arrangement. You’re my freebie.”
“Your what?”
“My celebrity freebie. If I ever get a chance with you, Jamie says it’s okay to take it. Her celebrity freebie is Robert Downey Jr., but she says she only wants him if he’s in his Iron Man suit, so I don’t think that one is going to happen.”
“How nice,” I say. “Please will you just send the group text?”
“Okay, but I don’t know how many of those RAs are going to show
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