Confessions of an Estranged College Freshman

by Kitty Parker

  "Jamie?!" I shrieked, bolting down the stairs and out the door so as not to be overheard. "Is he okay?! What's wrong with him?! Oh God, is he hurt?! Did he-?!"

  "EVIE, CALM DOWN!" she bellowed, interrupting my frantic babbling. "He's fine! He's not hurt!"

  I felt relief wash over me as I plopped onto a bench outside of the dorm. "Oh. Okay, then. What's going on?"

  "Well, as you probably know, school started up here on Monday."

  "Mhm," I mumbled.

  "And, well, Jamie's in fifth grade now, and it's, you know… that age."

  My eyes widened. "Oh God, you didn't give him the sex talk, did you?"

  "What? No!" she exclaimed. "No, your father and I don't plan on doing that until he turns eleven next April."

  "Then what is 'that age' supposed to mean?" I asked.

  She hesitated. "I guess… the age where kids are… less than kind to each other, you know?"

  I certainly did know. I'd seen the evidence myself - a girl in my fifth grade class had been so ostracized and harassed by her peers that her family had ended up moving to Virginia.

  "Mom, what's going on with Jamie?" I pressed, unable to keep the note of worry from my voice.

  "He's… he's being bullied at school, Evie," she confessed, a note of sadness wavering in her tone. "One of the kids in his class found out about his problem, and now they won't leave him alone."

  My heart sank as though it had been filled with lead. Jamie had a mild case of ADHD, and when he was off his medicine, he could get pretty hyper. We'd thought we'd had things under control, though; he was seeing a psychiatrist, he was taking his pills regularly, he was making friends in school, and he was stable. Someone must have caught a glance of him taking his Adderall, though, and in that brief moment, had turned his school life into a living hell.

  "Oh, God…" I whispered. "What're they doing to him?"

  My mother made a choked noise from the other end of the line. "They've spread it around the whole school. He told me that no one wants to talk to him anymore except for Timmy."

  Thank God my brother had a best friend he could count on. "Does Timmy know?" I asked.

  She made an affirmative noise. "He doesn't care, though. He says Jamie's his friend no matter what. God bless that boy."

  "They didn't…" I began, finding it difficult to finish the question. "They didn't… hurt him, did they?"

  "No," she sighed. "Not physically, anyway. I don't think I've ever seen him look that miserable, though."

  I was caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. On the one hand, I wanted to sprint all the way back to Gloucester - over three hundred miles - to hold my little brother to my chest until he smiled again. On the other hand, I wanted to hunt down the miniature bastards who'd hurt him and give their parents an impassioned lecture about good parenting and teaching their children not to be wretched little monsters. I could never actually bring myself to lay a hand on a child, of course, and I didn't believe in corporal punishment. However, those demons would feel my wrath in full from the shouting I'd do.

  My mother cleared her throat uneasily, probably sensing that I was fuming. Heck, she could probably see steam coming out of her receiver. "Evie… I just… needed to tell someone."

  "You should give the parents of those inconsiderate little devils a piece of your mind," I growled.

  She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Your father and I have already talked to his teacher."

  "And?" I demanded.

  There was a pause.

  "I don't think she really understands the problem," she finally whispered. "She sort of gave us the whole 'kids will be kids' thing."

  "That miserable bitch," I hissed. I seldom became so enraged about anything, but my family was the one button that those who knew what was good for them never dared to push.

  "Her nephew has ADHD as well, if I'm not mistaken," Mom continued. "I think she just doesn't want to deal with it."

  "That's no excuse for letting a ten year-old be harassed by his classmates!"

  "I know," she sighed. "It's not at all."

  "What are you going to do?" I murmured.

  She bit back a sob. "I don't know, sweetie. I don't know. It's just so hard having to watch your own child suffer like that, knowing there's next to nothing you can do about it."

  I felt the tears beginning to prickle at the corners of my eyes. I'd always tried to see the good in the world, and when something like this happened - something that revealed the intolerance and injustice inherent in humanity - I found it rather hard to stomach.

  My mother sniffled a bit. "Anyway, Evie, I hope everything in Ithaca's going well. Dad and… and Jamie send their love."

  "Give them big hugs for me, okay?" I requested.

  "Of course, sweetie. I love you very, very much and I miss you like crazy."

  I smiled weakly. "I love you too, mom."

  She paused. "Evie… pray for us… please, sweetie, pray for us," she whispered. "We need all the help we can get."

  I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "I will, Mom. I promise."

  We whispered our goodbyes before ending the call. When I had shut my phone, I curled up into a little ball on the bench and wept bitterly, incredibly grateful that it was dark outside and that I was alone.

  I didn't understand how the world could be so cruel and judgmental. I'd never understood that. Jamie was a child for crying out loud! It was unfair that he had to have his naivety about the world stolen from him so early in his life, that he had to learn how cruel some people could be when he was only ten. It killed me that I couldn't protect him from that. It killed me that I couldn't protect myself from that.

  I cried for a good half hour or so before pulling myself together and returning to my room. Elena had already snuggled into bed for the night, and, after brushing my teeth, I followed her example.

  Screw the German paper. I'd do it later.

  Chapter 6: One Lo Mein with a Side of Stephen King, Please

  It had been two weeks (and one day, but who's counting?) since Tully and I had agreed to be friends again, and things were going well; we smiled, we laughed, we bantered, we enjoyed each other's company. There was still some kind of unspoken… thing between us, but I figured it was best to ignore it. After all, in a situation involving tension between two people, it would be both stupid and awkward to simply say, "Gee, you're sending me some funky vibes, here. What's up with that?"

  The voice of a twelve year-old boy, reading aloud as he wrote, brought me out of my reverie. "He couldn't do nothing to convince the jury…"

  "He couldn't do anything, Danny."

  The seventh-grader pouted at me. He always hated it when I corrected his double negatives, though he'd make the alterations I suggested. I was only doing my job, after all.

  To offset the fact that I was a typical broke college student, I had taken up a position as an English tutor for the son of my faculty-in-residence, who had offered it to me upon noticing what a stickler for grammar I was. The job wasn't particularly time-consuming, it paid fairly well, and my "student" was undeniably adorable, so I felt I'd gotten a pretty good deal.

  In spite of my corrections to his writing, Danny thought I was about the coolest thing since Pop-tarts, which made my job that much easier.

  The boy set his pen down on the counter and swiveled in his chair to face me. We'd been working in his family's kitchen, and he'd taken to begging me to make him a snack. I'd told him that I would if he finished the short response to a chapter of To Kill a Mockingbird that was due in his English class the following Monday. It was a fairly effective incentive for a kid to work at four o'clock on a Saturday.

  "Evie," he began in a mock chiding tone. "If you keep interrupting me like that, I'm never gonna finish."

  I ruffled his hair. "Wise guy. C'mon, you're almost done. I'm thinking there's a nice banana and nutella sandwich with your name on it if you finish."

  He perked up. That kid would do just about anything for nutella. H
astily, he jotted down the last few sentences of his paragraph and eagerly handed me the paper. I gave it a quick read.

  "There's no 'k' in 'convicted,' Danny," I pointed out.

  Retrieving his work, he erased the offending letter so quickly that I was almost afraid he'd rip a hole in the paper.

  "Whoa, easy there, tiger," I chuckled, taking the paragraph back from him and finishing it. "Alright, this looks pretty good. So, bread: toasted or not toasted?"

  "Toasted!" he exclaimed.

  "You got it." Grinning, I ambled over to the fridge, grabbed two slices of wheat bread, and tossed them into the toaster.

  "So, any big plans for tonight?" Danny inquired.

  I stretched my arms behind my back. "Why do you ask?"

  He shrugged. "It's a Saturday night. People do stuff on Saturdays. You have a hot date or something?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  I snorted. "If you consider four friends, Chinese takeout, and a horror movie 'hot'."

  "What movie?" he asked.

  "1408."

  "Oh, the one with the hotel and the room and stuff where-?"

  "Hey!" I interrupted as the toast popped up. "Don't give it away! I haven't seen it yet!"

  "Oh. Well, it's good," he assured me. "It's Stephen King, so it's kind of automatically awesome."

  I grabbed a knife and slathered nutella onto the bread. "Nothing's automatically awesome. Anything can be butchered if the director sucks badly enough."

  "Well, this one's good," he insisted. "You'll see."

  "Can you pass me one of those bananas, please?" I requested, indicating the bowl to Danny's left.

  He broke one free from the bunch and handed it to me. "You like scary movies, Evie?"

  My thoughts immediately jumped to Tully and the numerous times he'd forced me to watch horror films with him when we were kids. The memories set off a bizarre combination of nostalgia and horrified disgust in my mind.

  "Depends," I replied.

  "On what?" he pressed as I sliced the banana onto the nutella-covered toast.

  I shrugged, deciding to change the topic. "Just depends. So, you doing anything fun tonight?"

  "I'm twelve. I'm not allowed to have fun."

  "Grounded?"

  "Yeah," he grumbled.

  I chuckled. "What for?"

  "It's so stupid. All I did was sneak into a PG-13 movie with Jeff. It's not like it's a big deal or anything."

  "But you got caught," I pointed out.

  He slumped over in his chair. "Yeah, mom heard us talking about the stunts and stuff when we came back."

  I handed him his sandwich, which seemed to cheer him up a bit. "At least you didn't get kicked out by the ushers."

  "Oh yeah," he agreed, wrinkling up his nose at the thought. "That would've sucked."

  I consulted the clock on the wall, noting that it was time for me to make my exit. "All right, dude, I've got to head out. You enjoy that sandwich. Great job today!"

  Taking a large bite out of his snack, Danny gave me a cheery wave as I stepped out the front door.

  I smiled to myself as I began walking back to my room from the Harris's apartment. I absolutely adored kids.

  I turned down my hall and headed for my door, only to be met with a number of screams that could've woken the dead.

  "EEEEEEK!"

  "YIKES!"

  "AHHHHH!"

  "ACK!"

  Fearing that I was about to witness a murder, I quickly entered the room. "What the hell is going on?" I demanded.

  Elena and Elizabeth were on top of the former's bed and had scrunched themselves into the back corner. It almost looked as though they were attempting to climb up the wall.

  "Huuuuuuuuuge bug!" Elizabeth squeaked.

  Elena jumped. "Ohmygod it moved!"

  Hesitantly, I approached my petrified friends and looked at the spot on Elena's comforter that they were pointing to.

  "HOLY FUCK, IS THAT A COCKROACH!?" I shrieked, beating a hasty retreat. "I'm allergic to them!"

  "No, it's worse!" Elizabeth wailed. "It's an earwig! They bite!"

  "I'm getting help," I announced before dashing out the door and down the hall. Big bugs called for big boys. "Amory! Tully! Help!" I hammered on my friends' door with my fists. "HELP!"

  A panicking Tully came flying out of the room, followed by a very confused-looking Amory. "What!? What!? What's going on!?"

  "THERE'S A HUGE BUG IN MY ROOM!" I waved my arms around to emphasize just how horrifying this was.

  "Is that all?" asked Amory incredulously.

  Tully exhaled in relief. "I thought someone died or something. God, Evie, please don't freak me out like that."

  I blushed. "Sorry. But seriously, there's a humungous bug in my room."

  Amory shrugged. "So kill it."

  I stared at him like he'd just suggested I go for a swim in the shark tank at the New England Aquarium.

  "…Or not."

  Tully rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll take care of it." So saying, he set off down the hall toward my room, followed by his roommate and yours truly. We opened the door to find Elizabeth and Elena still crammed into the corner of the bed, wide-eyed with terror.

  My roommate was the first to notice our presence. "Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed. "Please, someone squash that thing, quick!"

  Snatching a tissue from the box on my desk, Amory marched over to Elena's bed to square off with the bug. He stood still for a moment before mashing his hand down.

  He missed, causing the earwig to land on his arm.

  "GAH! GET IT OFF ME!" he bellowed, waving his limbs around wildly like a spastic dancer doing the hokey-pokey on fast-forward.

  The hapless insect tumbled onto Elena's pillow, right next to Elizabeth's foot.

  "EEEEK!" she yelped, taking a flying leap off of the bed and landing in a heap on the floor next to the closet. She scooted backward on her butt until her back had hit the wall.

  Whimpering as the earwig crawled toward her leg, Elena climbed on top of the wooden bed frame, balancing precariously.

  Amory had already backed as far away as possible.

  "Tully, do something!" I begged. I hated seeming like a damsel in distress, but come on. Earwigs are freaky.

  "Good grief," Tully sighed, sounding an awful lot like Charlie Brown. Taking the tissue that his roommate had discarded, he nonchalantly approached the invader and easily finished it off.

  The rest of us visibly relaxed.

  Tully shook his head, an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You guys have some serious issues."

  * * *

  An hour later, my friends and I were spread around Tully and Amory's thankfully earwig-free room, waiting impatiently for our dinner. Elena had taken to peering out the window anxiously every thirty seconds or so as if doing so would somehow make our take-out arrive faster. Tully sat next to the phone, waiting for it to ring. Amory, Elizabeth, and I were sprawled out on the floor playing Egyptian Rat Screw to kill time.

  Seeing a double in the pile of cards that had been accumulating on the carpet, Amory swiftly smacked his hand down.

  "Ow!" Elizabeth yelped. "That was my hand, you jerk!" She retracted the injured appendage and rubbed it.

  "You're supposed to slap the cards!" Amory retorted.

  "Not with my hand on top of them!"

  "Well, excuse me for actually playing the game!"

  I rolled my eyes and wished desperately for the damn Chinese food to get there so that the two of them would just shut up. It was funny, really: Elizabeth hated fighting in general, but when she was around Amory, the two of them just went at it like a couple of rams bashing their heads together… except without the horns.

  When the phone finally rang, I was ready to start belting out the "Hallelujah Chorus" from Handel's Messiah.

  Tully picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

  There was a pause. His face lit up.

  "Great! Where are you?"

  Pause.

  "Okay
, how much?"

  Pause.

  "Awesome. I'll be right down."

  With that, he hung up the phone, sprang to his feet, and charged out the door.

  "That is one hungry boy," Elena commented.

  I chuckled. "He does love his dumplings."

  "Can't blame him for that," she replied.

  Within four minutes - a lot faster than I would've expected - Tully was back, a pair of large, brown paper bags clutched triumphantly in his fists. "Food!" he declared.

  Elizabeth and Amory broke off their glaring contest to ambush him.

  Realizing that he was about to be bowled over, Tully hastily set the food down on his desk and backed off as his two assailants all but ripped the bags apart in their excitement.

  "Alright!" Elizabeth cheered, gleefully raising her container of General Tso's chicken in the air for all to see. She also grabbed the majority of the included packets of soy sauce.

  "Hey!" Amory protested. "You can't just take all those!"

  "I'm the one who asked for them!" Elizabeth pointed out. "I think I'm entitled!"

  I tuned out the rest of their argument. It seemed to me that Amory just liked picking fights. That made sense, anyway. He was like that sometimes, thinking it was all good fun.

  "Is my veggie lo mein in there, Tul?" I inquired.

  He fished around in one of the bags before coming up with a carton of noodles and handing it to me. "Yup. Elena," he called. "Here's your orange beef."

  Grinning, she hopped off the windowsill and came to receive her long-awaited dinner. "Brilliant!"

  "Evie," Tully muttered. "I'm thinking we should start the movie soon to get those two to shut up." He inclined his head toward the still-bickering Amory and Elizabeth, whose argument had shifted from soy sauce to whether or not the orange button in Guitar Hero discriminated against people with small hands (I had no idea how this had happened).

  "Good plan," I agreed.