Literally the only reason why I chose to forgive Beau was because, much like Harper accusing us in OH3, allowing yourself to be walked all over is the only path where the other character actually takes any degree of accountability for their hurtful actions. I can respect the reality of the situation (office politics, OH MC’s past with breaking the rules). Sadie scolding us for ratting her nephew out makes sense, but I wish standing up for ourselves would help us later on, like telling Remy the truth about his diagnosis in OH makes him mad at first but ultimately helps you in court.

What did you all choose for the patient in today’s chapter?

Also this would be a perfect opportunity to have a scene where we get to talk with Esme, given what she went through with Levi in book 2. I was kind of hoping we’d see her.

I’m pretty sure Queen B MC’s relationship with the professor is going to be exposed in this week’s finale. Honestly, it makes sense that flirting with them would be forced if us getting found out and our rank dropping drastically were all part of the plot. Then there’d be a book 2, of course.

Thoughts on Esme killing her patient in ch 13?

I personally wish they had come up with a different idea instead of Esme killing her patient. From a writer's standpoint, it feels like a rehash of the same situation in book 1 with Esme and Levi in MC and Mrs. Martinez's places, respectively. However, I have faith that the writers will have done enough to make this storyline different from the first one. I don’t want to judge too much until we see how it unfolds. And it DOES make sense that Esme would make the same mistake as her advisor.

I had too much fun with this. What did you guys all put?

What did you all call Mitch when you got to help sienna write your own insult?

So I’m almost certain Rafael was originally the one who died. Here’s why.

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN CHAPTERS 10-11 OF OH2.

First off, the scene where Rafael tells MC he might not make it and then his hand goes limp in ours sounds a lot like it was originally written as a death scene. At least to me it did. Second, it was mentioned that most of the poison in the can hit Rafael and Travis. So how would Danny have gotten enough of the poison to kill him that quickly, but not Rafael (who got the brunt of it) or MC? Ethan said MC’s symptoms didn’t develop as quickly because Rafael got more of the poison than she did. By that logic, Danny should be in about the same condition as MC. I’m not saying the way the story was written isn’t plausible. I just think this is pretty hard evidence that the death in the original script was Rafael.

All this coupled with the fact that Rafael was delisted as an LI and now he’s back after the rewrites points to him being the one who was supposed to die.

UPDATE: I also saw a YouTube comment from someone who saw the original script that said that Danny originally wasn’t even in the room. So that just makes even more sense.

My Own Best Friend--Chapter 5: Misunderstood

NADYA POV

“Oh great, now where did I put it?!” Duncan goes red and fumbles around in his pockets, making me giggle. I don’t think he realizes how easily he gets embarrassed. Or how cute he is when he does. 

Duncan digs anxiously into his last pocket and his face lights up. “There they are!” he exclaims, pulling out an envelope. He opens it and takes out a long, white strip of paper, which he hands to me. I read the small print on it, and realize it’s...a plane ticket...to Australia?

“Duncan, what is this for?” I ask. Surely he can’t expect me to run off with him. I shudder, thinking about how my dad would stop at nothing to hunt me down if I ever did run off.

Duncan says, “Nadya, I’d like you to come with me to my old house in Australia. This trip is going to be...hard, to say the least, and I could really use the moral support.” 

I sigh. I want to go. I want to be there for Duncan. I want to get away from my dad, even for just a while. But I feel stuck. Trapped. 

I avoid meeting his eyes and say, “Duncan, you know I will always help you in any way that I can. But my dad...I just don’t know how this will go over with him.” I peek up at him through my eyelashes, knowing it’s not what he wanted to hear. 

Duncan narrows his eyes. The very sight fills me with dread. 

“Come on, he can’t control your life forever!” he insists. “You should be able to go somewhere without asking his permission.”

“I know,” I agree sadly. “It’s not fair at all.”

“Well then, you do what is fair. Tell him you’re going to Australia with me and you’ll be back when you’ll be back.”

I shudder, horrified at the idea. It’s unfathomable, actually. My dad’s never been Duncan’s biggest fan to begin with, but ever since I told him that Duncan and I wanted to make things official, I can’t even go to Mikha’s without him calling me every hour to make sure I’m really with her. I have never lied to my dad (apart from failing to ever mention Duncan to him when we were together the first time), but the more he acts like this, the more I feel like I have to. 

“Please.” Duncan looks at me with his gentle honey brown eyes, and his lip quivers.

At this sight, tears prick my own eyes, and I cave.  “All right. I’ll come.”

“Oh, Nadya, thank you!” Duncan crushes me to his chest. 

“Can’t...breathe,” I wheeze, struggling to loosen his grip just a little.

“Oh! Sorry.” Duncan releases me and strokes my cheek instead. “You mean the world to me, Nadya.”

“And you to me,” I say, but I look at him sadly. I have no idea if I’m actually going to be able to follow through with this or not. 

“Will you tell your dad now?” Duncan asks me.

I hesitate. “Um, yes. He should be home from the fire station by now.”

Duncan kisses me quickly before squeezing my hand goodbye. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” I promise, then start the ten-minute walk from his place to mine. 

As soon as I reach the house, a sense of dread fills my entire body. The house suddenly looks huge, and the shadows of the trees are elongated by the setting sun, making me feel as though they are about to swallow me up. A chill creeps through me, and I look down at my hands. Am I...shaking?

“Mikha’s dad doesn’t make her feel this way,” I mutter to myself as I brave the short walk down the driveway to the doorstep. 

With clammy hands, I open the door and step inside. “Dad, I’m home!” I call in Indonesian.

“In the kitchen!” he replies.

 He doesn’t sound angry that I wasn’t home when he came home, at least. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

I go into the kitchen to find my dad poring over the newspaper. He looks up when he sees me, his severe dark eyes boring into mine. I shrink, even though he hasn’t even said anything to me yet.

“How was your day?” he asks. It sounds more like an inquiry than genuine interest.

“G-good,” I reply, starting to shake again. Thankfully he doesn’t notice, for he gets up to retrieve two plates from the cabinet. He begins to pile them with rice, meat, and vegetables.

“Not too much for me, Dad,” I say. My stomach is in such a knot I know I won’t be able to eat. I don’t want to waste it.

“But it’s your favorite,” he says. “Nasi goreng. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” I say quickly. I don’t want him to see how nervous I am.

“If you say so.” His lip curls into a smile. “Just like your mother. Never lets on when there’s definitely something on her mind.”

I’m used to comments like this. My dad never did get over my mom. And how could I blame him? One morning, she was packing my lunch and kissing him goodbye as he left for the fire station, and that afternoon, her body was left mangled after the orangutan attack. We never got to say goodbye. Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s really gone.

“So, how is Duncan?” my dad asks, setting my plate in front of me.

I bite my lip. He’s trying to act interested, but I can tell he’s just trying to find out whether we’ve become boyfriend and girlfriend yet. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, Dad,” I say, my palms sweating harder than ever. I swallow hard and continue, “Duncan’s mom’s old landlord died and left the house to him. So Duncan’s going to go to Australia to fix it up. And he wants me to—I mean, I’m going with him.”

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE!” my dad explodes suddenly, making me jump and nearly stabbing me with the fork he was just about to place in front of me.

“Dad! My face!” I cry.

“I can’t believe you!” he yells, slamming the fork on the table. “You come home late, you don’t want the dinner I spent an hour making for you, and now you think you’re running off to Australia with that dope?!”

My first instinct is to defend Duncan. “Duncan is not a—”

“You think you can just leave the country without my permission?” my dad demands.

“I didn’t ask your permission because I knew you’d say no!” I cry, tears welling up in my eyes and finally spilling over. “Besides, I’ve already got the ticket.” I pull the ticket out of my pocket to show him, and he glares at me.

“You will return that thing tonight,” he implores, “and then you will not see or speak to Duncan outside of work.”

I’m furious at my dad, but I know when I’ve been beat. “Okay, Dad. I’ll go after dinner.”

We eat in silence. The only sounds are those of my dad’s fork scraping aggressively against his plate, piercing the air. Even though I feel like I’m going to throw up, I somehow manage to clear my entire plate, probably out of fear of what else my dad might say if I don’t eat the meal he’s fixed.

My dad finishes his last mouthful of rice and pushes his chair back. The chair makes a loud screeching sound.

“You go return that plane ticket,” he says quietly, which somehow scares me even more than the yelling. “I’ll clean up.”

I hurry out the door and text Duncan to come to me. My legs are shaking so bad I can’t possibly walk all the way to his place and back. I can’t believe my dad would leave me to go walk in the dark at this hour either.

Five minutes later Duncan stumbles out of the woods, sweaty and out of breath. He must have run. And taken his forest shortcut that I can never figure out.

He takes in my trembling frame, and his eyes go wide with concern. 

“Nadya, what’s going on?” he asks, reaching me in two strides and taking me gently into his arms. 

I tell him the whole story. His brown eyes harden into daggers. “I could kill him,” he spits.

I shush him. “Don’t let my dad hear you say that. He will use it against you.”

“I don’t care,” Duncan growls. 

I stare hard at him, annoyed. He shouldn’t have been pushing me to come to Australia in the first place. I told him my dad would say no. 

“You need to care a little,” I say. “You’re pushing me into doing things I know will make him mad, and you won’t listen to me when I tell you so.”

Duncan takes a step back, hurt. “How can you say that?”

“Can’t you understand, Duncan? You’re playing with fire. If you keep this up, it could mean bad things for both of us.”

 “You know he’s the unreasonable one, so how can you blame me?” he demands.

“Please, Duncan, I can’t deal with any more guilt right now,” I plead.

“If that’s how you want it,” he snaps. 

I feel my cheeks get damp yet again. “I’m sorry, Duncan.”

“I take it this means you’re not coming to Australia, then.”

“That’s right,” I say, producing the plane ticket out of my pocket and pressing it into his hand.

“I can’t believe this,” he snaps. “Your dad treats you horrendously, and I’m the one who suffers.”

Then he turns his back on me and sprints into the forest without kissing me goodbye. I watch helplessly as he disappears into the endless woods, now-angry tears distorting my vision. It’s bad enough that my dad won’t let me see Duncan, but I expected that. Knew it even. But Duncan refusing to listen to me and getting mad at me for his own stubbornness is far worse. I thought at least he would understand. He always had until now.

My Own Best Friend—Chapter 4: It’s Funny How People Change

MIKHA POV

“Isn’t this a beautiful day, Mikha?” Arif takes my hand and twirls me around. We’re at the park having a picnic, just like we do every Saturday. 

“Just gorgeous!” I giggle as I complete the spin and fall into my boyfriend’s arms, sighing happily into his chest. 

“I know something even more gorgeous,” Arif says, kissing my hair. He always does this. Whenever I mention anything having a positive trait, he always says that he knows something even more beautiful, more amazing, whatever trait I said this time. 

“You sweet-talker, you,” I reply with a huge smile on my face. 

“It’s just because I love you,” says Arif. “And I’m never leaving you.”

“Me neither,” I reply, and skip into the woods, pulling him behind me as we traipse into the eternity of love. 

********

My car horn alarm jerks me right out of the picnic scene and back into my messy, disheveled bed. I grab my phone and shut the alarm off. I hate this ringtone, but it’s the only thing that can even begin to convince me to leave the sanctity of my bed at a time like this. Plus it doesn’t make much sense to have the song that reminded me of Arif as my alarm anymore.

Well, now I’ve dreamt about my ex, I think to myself, wiping away the tears that must have fallen as I dreamt. Add that to the list of post-breakup things I’ve done now. First was devouring a pint of my favorite ice cream while crying into it. 

I compose myself, get dressed, and head into the kitchen for breakfast. But no one is in the kitchen. Hmm, that’s odd. My mom drops Angga off at school before going to people’s houses as a piano teacher, so it’s no surprise that they’re gone. My dad, however, is always in the kitchen cooking breakfast for me and himself by now. 

I glance at the clock. We have to be at work in an hour. 

I make myself a cup of tea and brew some extra strong coffee for my dad. He rarely wakes up late, so if he does, it means he couldn’t sleep and must be really tired. 

I wait for my tea to steep before pouring it into a mug, and pour a mug of coffee for my dad as well. He likes black coffee; I can’t stand coffee even with all the sugar in the world. 

Five minutes later, my dad ambles into the kitchen, still in his pajamas. I look at him, surprised.

“What’s going on, dad?” I ask. “Are you sick? Do you need me to stay at work later for you?”

“Nonsense,” replies my dad. “You and I both have today off.”

“We do?”

“Yep,” says my dad. “I planned a whole day for the two of us. You know, sort of a special father-daughter date.”

I feel a hint of a smile tug at my lips. No watching Duncan and Nadya be lovey-dovey today. “Thanks, Dad,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”

He sits down across from me and sips his coffee. “Ahh, just the way I like it.” He grins at me. “You used my favorite mug, too.”

I glance down at the mug, which I now realize is the Father’s Day mug I gave him years ago, with my five-year-old handprint on it. “I can’t believe it’s still good after all these years.”

“Good things made with love always last a long time,” he replies, getting up and taking eggs and various vegetables out of the fridge. “Will you grab the rice while I cut up these vegetables?”

“Sure thing,” I say, and get up to fetch the rice out of the cabinet. My dad begins chopping cucumbers with speed and finesse. 

“So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask. 

“Well,” my dad says, never taking his eyes off the cucumbers, “First I thought we’d go to the market together, since we’re using up the last of our vegetables right now. Then I thought I’d take you to lunch at that Chinese place you love so much. And then after lunch, how about a nature walk in the woods? No orangutans, no work. Just fun.”

“Sure, Dad. Sounds great,” I reply, sipping my tea. Now I’m actually looking forward to the day ahead of me. That hasn’t happened since before the breakup.

**********

After breakfast, my dad drives us to the market. It’s a hot, sunny day; the rainy season isn’t due for another month or so. The bright green trees bathed in the golden sunlight whip past me as I stare contemplatively out the window. The impending rainy season fills me with gloom, and reminds me just how quickly the sunny times can fly by, and be over with no warning. I am so lost in thought that I don’t even realize when we reach the market.

“We’re here, honey,” my dad says to me. I follow him out of the car and into the swarm of people and tables outside.

The market is the same as any other week. Fish, vegetables, crowds of people, the like. I’ve been coming to this market every week, before I could even walk. It’s nice to have a constant in my life, no matter how mundane. 

“Taufik! Good morning,” my dad exclaims. His lifelong friend, Taufik, is standing in front of us. He is a father of three in his fifties who I always remember being nice to me. 

“I’m well, Rinaldi. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” Taufik and my father shake hands, and then I hold my hand out for Taufik to shake. 

“Good morning, Pak Taufik,” I say. 

“Mbak Mikha! You’re growing up to be a beautiful young lady. I always knew your father would raise you right.”

“Well, it was fifty percent Nur’s doing, too,” my dad chuckles. “At least.”

He has a point. When I was a kid, I stayed at home with my mom while my dad went to work. 

I politely excuse myself and leave my dad and Taufik to their conversation. I am no more than six meters away from them, though, when I spot Nadya.

“Hey, Mikha,” she says. “I thought you were at work.”

“My dad took the day off for both me and himself,” I explain. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I called in sick. I felt so nervous this morning my stomach hurt. But I’m better now that I’m out and walking alone.”

“More trouble with your dad?” I ask. 

“Yeah,” Nadya replies. “And that’s not all. Mikha, my dad set me up on a blind date.”

“What? When? Did you go yet?” I demand, outraged. Budi must be really desperate to keep Nadya and Duncan apart. 

“Not yet,” says Nadya. “But he set me up yesterday. I heard the whole conversation at work. But when he told me last night I played dumb like I hadn’t eavesdropped.”

“Your dad is getting ridi—wait, at work?? Why was he there?”

“He came to work to tell your dad to keep me and Duncan apart,” Nadya’s eyes harden.

“That’s insane!” I blurt. 

“I know. And you’ll never guess who he set me up with.”

“Who?” I ask.

Nadya winces. “Kamal.”

I make a face. “Ugh, I met him the other day. He thinks he’s so hot.”

“That’s not all,” Nadya continues. “Kamal overheard my dad talking to your dad, and he offered to set me up with one of his friends. Then my dad asked if he could set me up with Kamal himself. And Kamal agreed.”

“Ugh. He’s so obnoxious.”

“I know, right? He’s totally narcissistic,” Nadya says. 

“Are you going to go on the date?”

“I feel like I have no choice,” Nadya says sadly. “But it doesn’t mean anything. Of course not.”

“What does Duncan think of all this?” I ask, then immediately wish I hadn’t. 

For the first time in this entire conversation, Nadya cracks a smile. “He is adorably jealous.”

“That’s nice,” I say, but I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. I don’t want Nadya to end up with someone as emotionless and calculating as Kamal, but I don’t exactly want her to have true love while I don’t, either. It makes me feel bad about myself.

“Are you okay, Mikha?” Nadya asks. “You seem a little...tense whenever I talk about Duncan.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I lie. “I just don’t like to think of you two being separated. It makes me sad.” I hate how fake I’m being, but it’s better than admitting that I’m so pathetic I can’t be happy for my best friend.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Nadya puts a hand on my arm. “We will stop that from happening. One way or another.”

********

“The waitress came while you were in the bathroom,” my dad tells me as I sit back down at the Chinese restaurant. “I ordered you your favorite tea and that chicken dish you love.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say. “Also, I ran into Nadya at the market. She told me she called in sick because she felt so anxious her stomach hurt this morning.”

My dad shakes his head. “Poor girl. Budi has really gone off the deep end.” He says this one expression in English, then switches back to Indonesian. “I know it’s hard watching your kids grow up sometimes. My heart broke for you when you and Arif ended things.” I grimace at the memory, and fight back tears. 

“But you have to let your kids go some time,” my dad continues. “I think it’s extra hard for Budi because Nadya is turning out to be so different from her mother. Poor man must feel like he has nothing left of his wife. And a child growing up is an adjustment no matter what. The only constant in his life for thirty years has been the fire station and his fellow firefighters.”

“I feel bad for him,” I say. “But that doesn’t justify setting Nadya up on a blind date. With Kamal, of all people.” My dad raises his eyebrows. “I thought you and Kamal were friends. You seemed pretty friendly the other day.”

Ugh. “Definitely not,” I say. ““I don’t trust him at all. I think, as the new guy, he just wants to get a kick out of stealing Nadya from a long-time employee. He seems like the kind of guy who would do that.”

“He’s a little too confident sometimes,” my dad concedes, “but I wouldn’t go that far. He’s an earnest worker who knows how to fend for himself. He’s a good person, Mikha. Sometimes we just have to see past the bad in people.”

Right on cue, the waitress comes by with our drinks, but accidentally spills my dad’s water in his lap.

“I am so sorry!” she exclaims, handing him a wad of napkins. My dad begins drying himself off.

“That’s quite all right,” he reassures her. “You’re just doing your job. Accidents happen.” He smiles first at her, then at me. 

The waitress hurries off to get my dad another water, and he continues, “Besides, I don’t think Budi will be able to separate Duncan and Nadya, no matter how hard he tries.”

“You really think that’s why he’s trying to set Nadya up on a blind date? To keep her apart from Duncan?”

“Your grandfather did the same thing to your mom,” my dad says.

“Wait, really?” I try to imagine my caring grandfather acting like Budi, and fail completely.

“He wasn’t nearly as bad as Budi,” my dad explains, obviously reading my expression. “It was more funny than anything else, really. His efforts to convince his daughter that I was no good for her were so painfully obvious. But now your grandfather can’t get enough of me.”

I think of my good-natured grandfather showing up early to every family event just to hear one of my dad’s many stories about saving orangutans, and laugh again. “It’s funny how people change, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” my dad agrees. “I just hope Budi gets the wake-up call he needs sooner rather than later. Even as his friend of thirty years, I don’t think I can be the one to give him that wake-up call. He won’t listen to me.”

“Hopefully Nadya doesn’t have to be the one to do it,” I say. But I worry for her, because I suspect she very well may be. And I can tell it isn’t going to be pretty.

My Own Best Friend—Chapter 3: Office Confrontation

NADYA POV

“Nadya, could you check on Bunga?” Duncan calls after me as I’m about to head in for lunch. “I think she’s got a splinter.”

Poor thing! “Sure, where is she?” I ask. Duncan doesn’t answer, just motions for me to follow him into the woods. He leads me deeper into the forest than I expect, with no sign of Bunga. “Duncan?” I say.

He turns to me, worried. I could have sworn she was right—oof!” A red blur appears out of nowhere and clutches him around the waist. I can’t help but laugh. 

“You really got me there, Bunga,” says Duncan, picking up the young female orangutan and holding her right hand out to me. “Nadya’s just going to look at your splinter. We’re going to make it all better!” 

I examine Bunga’s hand. A decent-sized chunk of wood is embedded into the skin. I wince, remembering the time I got a splinter from a picnic table under my nail bed when I was four. 

“Aww, that must hurt,” I croon. Bunga whimpers, and I swear it’s as if she can understand me. “It isn’t that bad, though.” We head back to the cages where the babies sleep, and I rummage through the first-aid kit until I find the tweezers.

Bunga whimpers again. “I know these look scary, but they won’t hurt that much. And you will feel so much better,” I reassure her. I open and close the tweezers, showing her how they work. Bunga mimics the motion with her thumb and forefinger on her good hand.

“It never fails to amaze me how smart orangutans are,” Duncan remarks. 

“I know,” I say. “And so much like us.”

I pull out the splinter easily. Bunga cries a little bit, then grabs Duncan’s hand and quiets down.

Duncan grins at me. “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

I laugh. “I’ll leave you two to it then. I’ve gotta go to lunch. Disinfectant is in the first aid kit.”

As I leave Duncan to disinfect Bunga’s wound, I check the time on my phone and sigh. My lunch break is already halfway over. I head inside, but as soon as I step into the break room, what I hear makes me instantly lose my appetite.

“I’m telling you, Rinaldi, that Duncan guy is up to no good!” my dad’s voice bellows from Rinaldi’s office. I quickly hide in the closet where we keep all the extra uniforms, listening from inside. 

My dad continues his tirade. “I think they should be kept as separate as possible at work. One day he’ll distract her while she’s dealing with an unruly orangutan, and she’ll end up dead just like her mother!” 

I sigh. He was the one who pushed me to work for ORP in the first place. I wanted to study literature.

“Please,” my dad begs, “keep them away from each other. I don’t want Nadya getting involved with someone as uncultured as Duncan. Every woman in my family for generations has married a Muslim man. And that tradition is not about to stop now.”

“I can’t do that, Budi,” answers Rinaldi. “They have to work together. And it’s not my place to police anyone’s interactions on the premises, as long as no one is being mistreated.”

My dad snaps, “Well, I think endangering Nadya’s life is mistreatment enough!” 

At that moment, a new voice says, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I may be overstepping my boundaries, but I’ve got plenty of single friends if you want me to introduce your daughter to some of them.”

WHAT?! Who is this guy, and does he even know who I am?

Rinaldi says, “This is between me and Budi, I’m afraid. Thank you for doing all the paperwork. Now can you call the vet too, please?”

Oh. It’s Rinaldi’s new secretary from Malaysia. Rinaldi hired him two weeks ago when he realized he couldn’t juggle managing ORP and doing all the paperwork on his own. I honestly can’t blame him. Rinaldi works way too hard for his age. But I’ve only seen his new secretary in passing, never once spoken to him. 

“I already called the vet,” says the secretary. “He’ll be here tomorrow at eleven.”

“Well, then, I’ll have more papers that need organizing in a bit. Thank you, Kamal.”

My dad’s voice seems to lighten right up at the sound of this name. “Wait, Kamal?”

“Yes?”

“Would you let me set you up on a blind date with my daughter? I must say I like your idea of setting her up, and you certainly seem very sharp.”

Please no. Please no. Please no.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I crack the door open ajar to watch the conversation. Kamal barely looks flustered by my dad’s unusual question, but he does think about it for a long moment. I study him from my hiding place. He is strikingly handsome, but I could never love someone superficial enough to care that much about his looks. I quickly shut the door before anyone notices me.

“How old is your daughter?” he asks my dad. “I’m twenty-three. I hope I’m not too old.”

“Nadya is twenty-two,” my dad replies. “That’s perfect.” There is a little pause in the conversation before my dad says, “Here is my number. Give me a call and we’ll plan this date out for some time next week.”

“And she’d be interested?”

I want to jump out of hiding and say no, but I know my dad would yell at me for eavesdropping. Still, I can’t believe he would set me up on a date behind my back. And I know I have no choice.

“Sure, she’s interested!” my dad manufactures a laugh. “I’ve got to get her out of the house more. She’s got to grow up, be free!” Little does Kamal or anyone else know that that’s the very thing my dad fears the most. 

“Hey, Rinaldi, I think Surya got loose again,” I hear Duncan’s voice come from the office. “Oh, um, hello, Budi.”

“Clearly this boy doesn’t know how to manage the orangutans very well, Rinaldi, considering they keep getting loose,” my dad barks.

“If you have something to say about me, you can just say it to me, Mbak Budi,” Duncan says flatly. 

Oh no. This can’t end well.

“And such a lack of manners, too!” exclaims my dad.

“You just addressed him as you would a young woman,” Kamal whispers to Duncan, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Rinaldi, I think you have made a mistake,” says Budi. “Clearly this boy should never have been promoted from filing papers. Perhaps Duncan and Kamal should switch jobs.”

I burst into tears, quickly covering my mouth with my hand to not make any noise. Terrorizing me at home is one thing, but trying to sabotage Duncan’s career is one step too far. 

“Budi, I can’t do that,” Rinaldi says calmly. “Duncan has been a wonderful, kind orangutan conservationist for two years here, and Kamal...is where he belongs right now.”

Rinaldi is more on my side than my own father. Wow. But it’s Duncan’s reaction that surprises me the most.

“How DARE you?!” Duncan explodes. “Budi, what do you have against me, besides my being the man who wants to come take your daughter away and actually make her happy for a change? What is so WRONG with you that you don’t want that for her?”

“Listen, kid—” my father snaps, but is interrupted by Rinaldi.

“I’m sorry, Budi, but it’s time for you to leave. I can’t have anyone upsetting my employees at work. Now if you’ll excuse me and Duncan, I need his help catching Surya.”

I head Duncan and Rinaldi’s footsteps as they file out of the office, followed by a door opening and closing.

“Ooh, when Nadya gets home, she’s gonna get it!” my dad stews. “She better be glad she’s not here right now.”

“Listen, Encik Budi, Rinaldi’s right,” Kamal says. “I don’t know anything about caring for orangutans. How about I just take Nadya out instead? Next week, at Sky Cafe?”

My dad takes a long breath and thinks a minute. “Well, okay,” he finally says. Then he fakes a happy voice. “I’ll let her know I have a surprise for her tonight, then. Won’t she be thrilled to finally have a decent date!” 

I wring my hands together to keep from punching the wall as Kamal escorts my dad outside. This is going to be a long week.

My Own Best Friend—Chapter 2: The Happy Couple

MIKHA POV

“Mom still has your car,” my dad says to me in Indonesian as we are cleaning up his office to close ORP for the night. “Her conference is taking longer than she thought. Do you want me to give you a ride to the restaurant, or do you want to ride with your friends?” 

“Can you take me?” I ask. I need a break from my friends anyway, but I didn’t want to be rude and say no to going out altogether. 

“Of course. Let me just lock the gate and we’ll be on our way. Don’t want to keep your friends waiting!”

“No rush, Dad. I think they can wait a little bit.”

My dad frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I blurt, not meeting his eyes.

My dad crosses the room in an instant and gives me a hug. “I know this is really hard for you. We all have our first loves, and they almost never last. It’s sad, but it’s the truth. Even your old man here had a first love. When she left, I was really sad. But then I met your mom.” 

I can’t help but grin at that. My dad always knows what to say. 

As soon as he leaves, though, I feel the weight of the day come crashing down. I press my fingers to my temples as if forcing the tears back in. The last time I had closed down ORP with my dad, Arif had come to surprise me. He’d bought me a necklace he’d gotten really cheap, with stones in the shape of a turtle. It was his favorite animal. 

I used to wear that necklace with pride, to show the world I loved and was loved. Now I just hold it to my chest every night and cry. Still in love but no longer loved.

When my dad still hasn’t come back several minutes later, I decide to head out to find him. I’ve barely made it to the doorway, though, when I see a huge stack of papers lurching towards me. I hop out of the way, but not in time to avoid the collision.

“Um, Encik Rinaldi, what do I do with the—AAAH!” The papers slam into me and fly everywhere, revealing a guy about my age. He is tall and skinny, and clearly not very happy with me. 

“What a mess!” he exclaims, frowning at me as though he’s scolding me. 

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t look at me! This mess is all your fault.”

“I’d say it’s an even fifty-fifty,” he replies, bending over and starting to gather the papers. I glare at him, but he doesn’t even notice. That is, until he looks up at me with that condescending frown again. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“Aren’t you going to use your manners?” I snap. “Or do you not have any?” 

The guy gathers the rest of the papers into a messy stack and straightens himself out. “I like to think I do,” he says, “but when and where I use them is up to me.”

“Maybe it would benefit you to use them with the boss’s daughter,” I glower. “If you care about your job, that is.” 

“Oh! Mikha! Salaam. I’m Kamal, your dad’s new secretary.” He looks at me expectantly. What do you WANT?

“Aren’t we going to shake hands?” he asks. 

I reluctantly hold my hand out to him. When we shake, he places his free hand over his chest and gives me a small nod. 

“How did you know my name?” I demand. 

“Your dad talks about you all the time,” says Kamal. 

Great. As if I needed this jerk with no filter to know all about me. 

“Kamal! Didn’t know you were still here.” My dad appears in the doorway. Thank God. 

“Oh, yes; Mikha and I were just getting better acquainted.” I shoot him a death glare, hoping he notices. 

“Well, that’s great.” My dad turns to me. “Sorry about the wait, kiddo. That unruly Surya somehow got over the gate, and I had to lure him back into the forest. You ready to go now?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, now suddenly much more eager to leave. Anything to get away from Kamal.

“All right,” my dad chuckles. “Don’t let me keep you any longer then.”

   *******

“Just text me if you need a ride home,” my dad calls after me as he drops me off at the restaurant. 

“I will, thanks!” I sling my purse over my shoulder and pull the big wooden door open. I haven’t been here since I was a little kid. 

I scan the restaurant for my friends until I spot them in a booth in the corner. Nadya, Duncan, and Natasha sit on one side, and Rasi, Eric, and Sukarno on the other. Duncan and Nadya are sitting side by side, talking and laughing. A disgruntled-looking Sukarno sits across from Duncan, obviously trying to tell him something. Duncan has his arm around Nadya’s waist, and she is resting her head happily on his shoulder. 

At this sight I almost turn around and leave. That should be me there, me and Arif. Or at least someone who cares, which Arif obviously only pretended to. 

I make my way over to the booth. Not wanting to have to look at the happy couple all evening, I sit down next to Natasha. 

“Mikha!” she flashes me her perfectly straight, white smile. “It’s been forever. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Just great! Congratulations on your therapist’s license.”

“Thank you! I’m really happy the hard work is finally paying off.” 

Across the table, I can see Rasi frowning at me. I raise my eyebrows at him. “What?”

Rasi leans across the table towards his sister. “Natasha, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but last week Mikha—”

“—put in some extra hours at work! That’s why I was running late. I almost fell asleep in my dad’s office!” I finish, wishing Rasi wouldn’t share my personal business.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha asks. 

“Yes, I’m fine, just tired,” I insist. I can tell she isn’t convinced.

The whole table falls silent. I glance around at my friends, who are all looking at me with concerned eyes.

“Um, so what else is new in everyone’s life?” I ask, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

“Well,” begins Nadya. She smiles up at Duncan with shining eyes, and Duncan kisses her forehead. “Duncan and I are thinking about getting back together. Like officially.” 

“Oh my God, YESSS!” Rasi all but squeals. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long!”

The rest of our friends begin to applaud. I force my hands together and plaster a smile on my face.

“What made you decide to get back together after two years?” asks Eric. 

“Well,” begins Duncan, “Nadya and I have been spending more time together than ever. And we think we’re finally ready.”

“When you know, you know,” says Natasha, smiling at the happy couple. 

The waiter comes to take our order. After he leaves, Rasi and Eric fill us in on their latest misadventures, including Rasi accidentally live streaming Eric singing in the shower on his Instagram. Natasha tells us about how she got stuck in traffic and almost didn’t make it to her own house closing yesterday. And Sukarno tells us as much as his job allows about his latest case at work. As he is droning on about the suspicious disappearance of a woman’s belongings after a messy divorce, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. But as soon as I’m sure no one is watching, I slip out the door instead and call my dad to come take me home. 

*****

Later that night, I am watching random makeup tutorials when my phone buzzes. It’s Nadya. I snatch my phone off my bed and pick up.

“What’s up, Nadya?” I ask in Indonesian.

“I’m just checking in,” she says. “You left dinner and didn’t come back. Everyone was worried.” 

“I’m okay, Nadya. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” It’s true, but I can’t possibly say I’m incredibly jealous of your loving relationship and I can’t stand to hear you talk about it as your lover smiles and cuddles you. 

I am especially glad I held my tongue when she says, “I have to say, I was a bit disappointed that you left. I have a problem with my dad that I mentioned to the group, and I was really hoping for your input.”

“I didn’t know you were going to talk about that,” I say, fighting to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. “You can tell me now.”

Nadya sighs on the other end. “It didn’t go over too well when I told my dad that I was considering dating Duncan. He said that he was suspicious all along from the moment I introduced Duncan to him as a friend. Said he always knew there was more going on. Then he called me a liar.”

“Gosh, Nadya, I’m sorry,” I say, disturbed that Budi would treat her like this. Since he’d lost his wife, I had always known it would be difficult for him when Nadya found a boyfriend and spent less time at home, but I’d never known him to be mean.

Nadya asks, “What do you think I should do?” 

“Why are you asking me?” I say. “Clearly, I’m not good at relationships, given my current single status.”

Nadya sighs again. “Can you focus on my situation for a moment, please?”

“Fine,” I say. “I don’t know. I think you just need to keep trying. Repeat yourself and stand up for yourself. Broken record, you know?”

“That’s what everyone else said,” replies Nadya. “But I feel like my dad just won’t listen.”

“He’s got to eventually,” I say. “You’re twenty-two years old. You’re entitled to have a life.”

“What do you think your dad would do if you wanted to marry a non-Muslim?” Nadya asks.

“He’d be fine with it,” I say. “Remember Nate? He was from America.” I cringe at the memory of my former co-worker standing me up. I haven’t heard from him for over a year now. 

“Well, I don’t have it so easy,” says Nadya wistfully. “I hope I don’t end up having to choose between Duncan and my dad.”

“Me too,” I say. “If it came to that, what do you think you’d do?”

“I don’t know. Move out maybe.”

“We could rent an apartment together!” I say. 

“That’s a good idea!” Nadya cries. I can imagine her face lighting up right along with her voice. “We could split the rent. Some of my old school friends know a few good places.”

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow and we’ll look at apartments together?” I suggest. 

“Perfect! My dad is working overtime tomorrow, so I don’t have to be home until late.”

“Okay. I can bring you home once we’re done too.”

“Mikha! Dad and I are going to bed!” my mom’s voice calls from the hallway.

“Goodnight!” I holler back. Then I say into the phone to Nadya, “I have to go. My parents are going to sleep.”

“Oh, okay, goodnight, Mikha! See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, then hang up. 

As soon as I hang up I hear a tap on my door. My ten-year-old brother Angga pokes his head in.

“Think they’re asleep yet?” he asks in his loud whisper that actually isn’t much quieter than regular talking.

“I doubt it,” I say. “You know how long Dad takes to brush his teeth.”

“Mikha, are you really going to be moving out soon?” my little brother looks at me with big, sad eyes.

I frown. “Angga, you know it’s rude to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation. But yes, it’s possible.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s almost time for me to move out. And it’s definitely time for Nadya to move out.”

“Why is it time for her to move out?”

I poke my brother in the ribs. “You always want to know why,” I tease. “It’s complicated. Not really something ten-year-olds should have to worry about.” Or anyone of any age for that matter. 

“Aw!” Angga complains. 

I sigh. “I just hope Nadya doesn’t bring Duncan over to the apartment.”

Angga looks at me, confused. “But I thought Duncan was your friend.” “He is,” I say. “But Angga, do you remember your friend Rizka? And how you felt when she told you to stop following her around at school?”

“Yeah,” Angga looks down at the floor. “It made me sad.”

“Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since Arif and I broke up. And seeing Duncan and Nadya together is just really hard for me right now.”

“I don’t understand,” replies Angga. “Shouldn’t you be happy for them?”

Damn. Kids can be brutal. “I think it’s bedtime for ten-year-olds now,” I say, ushering him out the door.

“Nooooo!” protests Angga. “But I’m big now!”

“I know you are,” I say, “but you need your sleep so you can grow even bigger.”

“As big as a skyscraper!” shouts Angga as he bounds down the hall to his room. I hear my dad cough from inside his and my mom’s room.

I smile and shake my head. If one thing was certain, it was that once I moved out, I would actually be able to have uninterrupted nights of sleep once again. 

My Own Best Friend—Chapter 1: Buried

This is an original work I have been writing for a year. It is the sequel to a novel that I started in high school, but you don’t really need to read the first one to understand this one. I’ll probably post the first one eventually, but for now I wanted to roll these chapters out as I wrote them. I’ll alternate between this and my Open Heart fanfiction!

Summary: Duncan King swore that he would never return to his childhood hometown in Australia. Yet somehow nine years later he ends up back in Sydney, only to make some painful discoveries about his mother that leave him with more questions than answers. Duncan's detective friend and mentor, Sukarno, who hails from the forests of Borneo, must help him crack the case. Meanwhile, Nadya Setiawan's father keeps her on a tight leash as she and Duncan grow closer than ever, and Nadya's best friend, Mikha Lestari, is overcome with grief and confusion after her first relationship suddenly ends, which leads to conflict between her and Nadya. While separated from each other, all three must learn to overcome a challenging time in their lives alone, and more importantly, to be their own best friend. Written in three points of view. DUNCAN POV

I’ve left it buried for long enough. 

The memories, the pain, the uncertainty, the heartache of simply not knowing. Whatever happened to Mom’s belongings after she died? Her house? Her ratty old pickup truck that always smelled like her favorite air freshener? Uncle Jacob—rest his soul— and I had cleaned out her stuff the last time we were in Sydney, but then returned home to Canberra only to realize her favorite jewelry was missing. In our rush to prepare for her funeral, we must have forgotten. That day is still burned into my memory like the most painful third degree burn. I told Mom at her grave that I was sorry her landlord’s smoking killed her, and then swore I was never, ever going back to Sydney.

Except apparently Charles’ smoking also killed him, and now I was going back to Sydney. Today was supposed to be just a normal day. Wake up, eat breakfast with Rasi, go to work at Orangutan Rescue Project, and train the little orangutans to fend for themselves. That’s what I had been in the middle of doing this morning when my manager, Rinaldi, came out of his office to tell me there was a phone call for me.

I don’t remember much of the conversation aside from the woman on the other end saying, “Your mother’s former landlord has died, and he has left the house to you in his will.” The woman sounded kind, in her late fifties, and like she had made calls like this thousands of times. “Track down Emily King’s son, and tell him the house goes to him. All my money, as laughable of a sum as it is, also goes to him. I’ve got no one else in my life to give it to, and I saw great things in that boy. Great things. I quote him directly,” she continued. 

I’m not exactly sure how Charles’ lawyer tracked me down. Or what I’m going to do with the house. Or how Charles even remembered me in the first place. After all, I was just a depressed thirteen-year-old the last and only time he saw me. But I told the woman I would book my flight tonight and let her know when I would be there to see the house. Then I got off the phone and hit a stick against a tree for about ten minutes, simply dreading it all. Dreading seeing the house, the dilapidated scrap of a building that held so many painful memories. When I swore I was never going back, I meant it. Or at least I meant to mean it. 

My friends and I have lunch outside by the front entrance of ORP. I don’t say much during lunch; I only watch my friends, feeling a little outside of myself. Mikha is absentmindedly twirling her shiny black hair around her finger, barely touching her food. Nadya is sitting to my right, looking at me with concern in her eyes. We’ve been close for so long that she can read me like a book without me even saying anything. I’m not sure what we are, but we’re something, for she rests her tiny body on my shoulder. The fabric of her pink hijab tickles my arm. Across from me, Rasi is sloppily eating a bowl of noodles, and Eric struggles to open a bottle of soda.

“What’s the matter, Duncan?” Mikha asks me. “You’re quiet today.” 

“He’s probably just quiet because Sukarno’s at his other job today,” teases Rasi. “They get pretty rowdy when they’re working together.”

Mikha sticks her tongue out at him. “You’re certainly one to talk. Look at you and Eric!”

Right on cue, Eric finally manages to open his soda, spraying it all over Rasi. 

“Hey!” Rasi complains, dumping his cup of water over Eric’s head. The two immediately begin chasing each other around. 

“Is something bothering you, Duncan?” asks Nadya. “If you have something on your mind, you can always tell us.”

“I got a phone call earlier this morning,” I say. “My mom’s landlord died, and he left the house to me in his will. So now I’m going to take a trip to Australia, to fix it up and sell it.” 

“Did you know the landlord?” asks Mikha. 

“I only met him once, right before Mom’s funeral. He was quite a heavy smoker. But apparently he had no one else to leave the house to. At least that’s what he said in his will.” 

“Wow,” says Nadya. She squeezes my hand. “This must be a lot for you to take in, Duncan.” 

“What must be?” Rasi reappears, Eric right on his heels. 

Mikha fills them in, and their mischievous smiles disappear. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Duncan,” says Rasi. “If you need to talk, I’m sure Natasha would be happy to help.” Natasha is his older sister who just moved back to town last month after completing her training to become a therapist. 

“Thanks,” I say. “I gotta admit, I’m pretty shaken up.”

“But at least you’ll make some extra money off the house,” says Rasi, clapping me on the shoulder. 

“How long will you be gone?” asks Eric. 

“I’m not sure,” I answer. “Hopefully it doesn’t take long to sell the house. But I honestly don’t know who would want that crappy thing.” 

“You could fix it up into a vacation home for yourself,” suggests Nadya. 

“I don’t know,” I say. “Lots of painful memories there.” 

Nadya frowns. “I understand. Ever since my mom died, my dad never took me back to her favorite restaurant. Even though it was my favorite too.” 

“I’ll take you there.” I smile at her. She rewards me with a smile in return. 

“We should all go!” Rasi exclaims.

“Yeah!!” Eric yells. 

“Can’t wait,” says Mikha, though she looks down at the grass as she says this. She hasn’t been herself since she and her ex-boyfriend Arif broke up last week.

“Are you suuure you can’t wait?” says Rasi, nudging her. 

“Yes, yes!” Mikha rolls her eyes and gets up. “I’ve gotta go back to work now, if we want to get out early enough to go out to dinner.” She packs up her barely-eaten lunch and hustles into the office. 

“What’s with her?” whispers Rasi once she’s gone. 

“She’s been having a hard time since she and Arif broke up,” says Nadya. “It was her first relationship.” 

“Perhaps a night out will cheer her up,” says Rasi. “I don’t like seeing her sad.”

“You just don’t like having to be the happy one,” jokes Eric. 

Rasi mock punches his arm. “Oh, would you like to be the happy one?” 

“Get me into pilot school,” says Eric. “Then I will be.”

“Guys, guys!” Nadya laughs. “We can all be the happy ones. We have each other!” 

“This,” I say. “I like this.” 

“Will you text Sukarno and ask if he can come to dinner tonight?” Rasi asks me. 

“Sure will. Hopefully he’s not too busy working on some case or something tonight.”

“I’ll text Natasha too!” Rasi pulls out his phone.

“You know, considering how much Sukarno hates people, I’m surprised he chose to be a detective of all things. He has to work with a team,” says Eric. 

I laugh. “The way he sees it is that someone has to keep the bad people in check. And he’s the perfect person for the job.” 

“Well, we’re definitely safe with him around,” says Nadya. 

“If only he could have been around to keep Iwan in check,” says Rasi. 

“And Amy,” adds Eric. “Can’t believe that was two whole years ago. Now Mikha’s dad is our boss, and he’s the coolest ever. Some of the staff are...quite annoying”—Eric narrows his eyes at the twin girls, Naila and Yasmin, who bat their eyelashes and wave at him from across the lawn— “but at least no one here is evil now. Except for Dominic. That giant red ape almost flattened me against a tree the other day!”

Rasi rolls his eyes. “Only because you didn’t approach him properly.” 

“Oh, please,” says Eric, shoving Rasi. “Patrick and Carrie distracted me!”

“Sure, whatever,” says Rasi. 

My phone buzzes. It’s Sukarno, confirming he’s on for dinner tonight. 

“Sukarno’s coming,” I say. “We’ll swing by his office and pick him up after work.”

Justice—A Landry Oneshot

A oneshot of Landry’s thoughts as he prepares to send that fateful email to Mrs. Martinez’s family.

I don’t care if she’s supposed to be my friend. She can’t get away with this. Not this time.

Earlier today, Bryce, Jackie, Sienna, Elijah, and I told Casey that Mrs. Martinez died, and she broke down crying. The others all tried to comfort her and feed her the “You gave Mrs. Martinez enough time to live her dream” crap. Yeah, right; I’m sure her family will find that super comforting. The rest of my roommates all flocked around Casey with hugs and words of comfort, but I just stood against the wall with my arms folded. Why should I bother to comfort Casey? She brought this all on herself. She killed a patient, for God’s sake!

And yet somehow even being a patient murderer didn’t stop Casey from becoming the number one intern. Such bullshit. Casey never deserved the number one ranking. That was supposed to be me. It absolutely blows my mind that this girl even made it past her first week. She was late on the very first day! But of course some lady had to collapse in the waiting room, and Casey was at the right place at the right time. And so it happened that she got to impress Dr. Ramsey by assisting him with a hemothorax patient, which by default meant that no one gave a crap that she was late. She got herself lauded as a hero with the power of her luck alone. I, on the other hand, get up at the ass crack of dawn to show up early every day—every single fucking day—and no one gives me any credit for it. 

It’s totally unfair. Casey spends all her free time parading herself around with guys, namely Bryce and Rafael. She must have thought no one noticed that she hooked up with Bryce at our housewarming party—I heard everything because I stayed up studying after all the guests left—only to flaunt Rafael right in Bryce’s face at dinner weeks later! I’d like to think that I’m not one to slut shame, but...well, you know. You’d think getting drunk at every opportunity and sleeping around like she does would cause her performance to nosedive, but somehow she’s number one. She even beat Aurora! I knew the competition would be rigged in favor of the chief’s niece. That much was to be expected. But I never in a million years would have imagined that some frivolous, drama-loving girl would snag that elusive top spot by worming her way into the great Ethan Ramsey’s approval. Is she sleeping with him? There must be some reason why he picked her to come to Miami with him. I know there was more to it than just her being number one. 

I should be number one. I never slack off. I study way harder than Casey or any of my roommates. Probably even more than any of the other interns. And I don’t let girls get in the way of my progress as a doctor. Casey offered to be my wingwoman at the bar after our first day, but I said no. Sure, I was nervous about talking to the girl at the bar, but more than anything, I knew better than to trust another intern who was probably just trying to distract me so she could make a better first impression than me. And when she offered to get Dr. Ramsey to sign my book for me? Yes, I’ve had literal dreams about working with Dr. Ramsey, but I saw that as the perfect opportunity to make Casey look stupid in the hopes that Dr. Ramsey would laugh at her. She made the better first impression, even though she was late and I was early. So I had to level the playing field a little. 

Unfortunately, he actually signed the book. I mean, it was cool, but still. My resentment for Casey started brewing deep inside me that very day. Why was it that she could get my idol to notice her, and I couldn’t? It was so embarrassing that I had to enlist her help to get him to sign my book, even if it was all part of my scheme. 

That was when my plan changed. I knew I had to get on Casey’s good side and convince her to put in a good word for me to Dr. Ramsey. But she never did. She claimed the competition would ruin all our friendships, and was even against joining it at first, yet she couldn’t even be bothered to teach Ramsey my name. Some “friend”, I say. 

  She didn’t teach Ramsey my name, so the only option I had left was to tarnish hers. It was only fair. That’s why one day, when Casey wasn’t looking, I turned off her pager. Ooh, the attendings must have been furious with her! And I’ll never forget the look on Casey’s face when she started treating a patient only to discover that her chart was missing. At first this seemed to have the desired effect. Dr. Mirani’s face went beet red with anger, and he ripped Casey a new one right in front of her patient. I faked words of encouragement to her before standing back and savoring the panic in her eyes, all the while crumpling her chart into a tight ball and hiding it in my scrubs. But that plan didn’t work either; even though some interns laughed, everyone still loved Casey. Everyone who mattered, anyway. If only Dr. Ramsey had seen Casey “lose” her chart. 

My next plan was to pull as many nurses as I could aside and tell them that Casey was trash talking them. All of them but Danny believed me, too. Even Jackie believed me when I said that Aurora must have been the one turning off Casey’s pager and hiding her chart! We joked about how pathetic Aurora was, and I smirked to myself as Jackie walked away grumbling about Princess Nepotism, without even the slightest inkling that I was the real culprit. So far, sabotaging a friend—I mean rival—who’s been getting all the recognition I deserve has worked pretty well for me. I guess sometimes life can be fair after all. You just have to make it fair. 

From the beginning, Casey clearly had an undeserved advantage. But that was forgivable, because that could be dealt with. I could make her look bad in front of the attendings and get all the nurses to hate her. What couldn’t be forgiven, however, was Mrs. Martinez’s death. She’s gone and she can never be brought back. Mrs. Martinez is dead, all because Casey stole an unapproved drug from a pharma rec—a drug with a forty percent chance of death—and administered it to Mrs. Martinez without the hospital’s knowledge or permission. When Casey first told us of her plan, I couldn’t believe my ears. I thought she was crazy. I told her resolutely that I would have no part in this. She and all my other roommates tried to make me feel bad for telling her that what she wanted to do was wrong, but I stood my ground. She still thought that it was some kind of two-sided argument, but I knew that I was doing the right thing, both legally and morally. But Casey did the wrong thing, and now the only way to even slightly remedy the situation would be to tell Mrs. Martinez’s family exactly how she died. They deserve to know the truth.

And I have the power to give that to them.

The day after I learned what Casey was planning, I paid a visit to Mrs. Martinez myself, during which I brought her some of Sienna’s homemade cookies and one of Elijah’s comic books (both happily gave me what I asked for when I told them I wanted to treat Mrs. Martinez) and asked her to tell me all about her family. Normally I would never waste my time on such unimportant details when there are symptoms to be treated and diagnoses to be made, but Mrs. Martinez’s case was totally different: in the likely event that Casey failed and Mrs. Martinez died, the only comfort Mrs. Martinez’s family could possibly have was to know how she died. And so I politely listened as Mrs. Martinez told me all about her son Luis. Where he lived, what his job was, how special he was to her. I don’t remember a word of what she said to me, but I wrote down where he worked. Then when I got home, I stayed up all night during the longest break I had all week to track Luis down. After a harrowing search, I was just about ready to give up, when I finally found a page about the Luis Martinez on his company’s website, with his contact information at the bottom. I wrote down his email address on a little pink sticky note, which I hid carefully away in a big green textbook.

Except there’s only one problem: several minutes of digging around in my desk drawers has revealed that the big green textbook is not in any of them. I must have left it outside. 

I lay an ear against my door and hear the sound of giggles on the other side. Crap. Everyone else is home now too. 

I tiptoe into the main living room to find my roommates with their noses buried in their laptops. Sienna folds chocolate chips into a bowl of cookie dough while she reads. Elijah taps out the theme song of one of his favorite shows on the table. Jackie is so deeply engrossed in her own little world of focused studying that even God himself couldn’t shake her out of it if He tried.

The only one not studying is Casey. She speaks in not-so-hushed whispers into her laptop, only stopping occasionally to let Rafael respond. Her feet are propped up on the table, dangerously close to knocking over her coffee. Next to her mug is my green textbook. Of course.

Sienna hears me and looks up. “Hey, Landry!” she says cheerfully. Elijah stops

drumming on the table long enough to wave at me. 

For the first time since I started formulating my plan, a strange emotion washes over me. Sadness, perhaps? This little scene of five happy roommates won’t last long after I contact Luis Martinez. The others may have been easy to fool, but Casey will surely figure out I was the one sabotaging her, and then she’ll get everyone to feel bad for her. This little roomie unit is about to meet an untimely, drama-filled death. And it’ll all be because of me.

I thought Casey and I were friends. I really did. Even when I got her to sign the book to make her look stupid. As long as she made me look good, she was a friend in my book. 

But she never did. And now she’s going to lose her license and drag the rest of our roommates down with her. 

But not me. 

I won’t be dragged down. 

There is absolutely zero reason why I should feel bad about sabotaging her.

“Uh, Landry?” Casey asks, confused. I realize I’m standing over her, one hand on top of the textbook. 

“You didn’t read this, did you?” I blurt before I can think. They cannot know about that little pink sticky note.

“No…” Casey says slowly. She eyes me suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

Shit. My heart begins to race and my hands get clammy as I rack my brain for an excuse. “I just...realized I misdiagnosed a patient!” I lie, grabbing the textbook and scurrying back to my room, ignoring my roommates’ perplexed whispers.

That was too close, I think to myself as I close the door behind me and clutch the textbook to my chest. I set it on my desk and flip to page 329, where the little pink sticky note is waiting for me, all but beckoning me to finally put the information it contains to good use. 

This is it. It’s time.

I snag the sticky note and flip open my fully charged laptop. I have at least ten unread emails, but they can wait. Ignoring the emails from work, I log into the fake anonymous account I’ve created just for this. Without a moment’s hesitation, I type Mr. Martinez’s address into the recipient box. Justice is about to be served.