by Ann M. Noser
Frisbee Guy smirks as I clear my throat in paralyzing embarrassment.
“Hopefully, just your brother now.” I laugh awkwardly and struggle to say something more positive. “Um, actually she’s a good roommate.”
“So is my brother.” Frisbee Guy pulls over a worn-looking wooden chair and sits down. “Hey, do you want a chair, too?”
I’m about to hyperventilate. Maybe I should sit down before I fall down. I nod, and he grabs a tall stool. When I move to sit down, my shoes stick to the brown carpet―how is that even possible?―and I half fall onto the seat.
“Are you all right?” He reaches out a hand to steady me.
Oh my God. He just touched my arm. Now I can die happy. Wait a minute… Why is he sitting next to me? No. Stop it. Let’s not read too much into this. He’s probably just tired or wants close access to the keg.
“By the way, my name’s Mike…Mike Carlson.” He shifts his cup to his other hand in order to shake mine.
He’s touching me again. I force myself to take deep, calm breaths. Try not to panic. “I’m Emma…Roberts.”
Frisbee Guy glances at my feet. “I like your shoes.”
“Seriously?” Chrissy would call him crazy for saying that. “Uh…thanks.”
“What year are you?” The party music is so loud Mike has to lean closer.
My ridiculous heart hammers. “Ahhh…sophomore,” I mumble, sounding like I’m not sure what year I am.
A large group of people across the room erupt in laughter, and Mike glances over at them. I sigh. Even though I probably have the highest GPA at this party, I sometimes have trouble forming complete sentences in front of attractive men.
He turns back and smiles. “So am I.”
As I attempt to focus on his blue-green eyes, my vision blurs and I get light-headed.
“What’s your major?” he asks.
It’s always the same old questions at these parties. What’s your name? What’s your major? This line of questioning seems like the fastest way to shove somebody into a little box under a certain category and then force them to stay there no matter how much they’d like to change. For once, I’d like to talk about something real. Poetry. Plays. What somebody else thinks about the books I’ve read. Anything but my constantly flip-flopping major.
Don’t tell him. He’ll think you’re a nerd. “I’m undecided,” I lie. Actually, at the moment I have two majors―biology and math, but I don’t want to hear for the fiftieth time how everybody else hates calculus except for me. I love calculus. Numbers make sense. People don’t.
“Me too.” Mike laughs. “Hey, did you ever notice that nobody seems to know what they’re going to do after graduation?”
I nod. I think this is one of the great downfalls of the college experience. School isn’t the real world, even though it’s the only world I know. And what does one actually do with a double math and science major? Except go on, of course. High school, college, grad school―it all just seems so endless. I remain silent, not wanting to bore Mike with all my lame ideas on the topic.
“My brother Kevin is a senior this year. At least he knows what he’s going to do with his life. He wants to be a police officer. My other four roommates have no idea.”
“Yeah, Chrissy’s wanted to be a grade school teacher ever since she first learned her multiplication tables, but I don’t have a clue myself.” My current reality is the constant, wearing stress of being in college with uncertain plans for the future.
Mike surveys the room. He’s probably wishing he’d chosen someone more interesting to talk to. I search my blank mind for something clever to say.
“So six guys live here?” Yes, Emma, that was sheer brilliance. What an inspiring conversationalist you are.
“Yup.”
That makes sense. It smells like six guys live here. Maybe more. I imagine piles of unwashed laundry and takeout food stuffed behind closet doors.
“How old are you?” Mike asks.
“Nineteen.” Suddenly, I feel too young.
“In three weeks, I’ll be twenty-one.”
“I thought you were a sophomore.”
“I didn’t go to college right after high school. My mom got cancer. I stayed home to take care of her during chemo.”
Wow again. Mike is even nice to his mother. With horror, I realize my mouth is hanging open. Way to look like an idiot. Okay, now. Just breathe. And close your damn mouth.
Mike continues to make small talk, and I struggle to answer him. I wonder if it shows. Even when I was a little girl, it was the same thing. Right in front of me, people would ask my beautiful mother if I was deaf or mute. She told them no, but secretly, she had me tested. I remember the beeping, the ear phones, and the technicians pretending to like me. While all the tests showed I was “normal”, their judging eyes indicated otherwise. I was labeled “painfully shy” as if it were some kind of disease…and maybe it was.
It certainly isn’t a blessing.
During a lull in our primarily one-sided conversation, Kevin and Chrissy approach.
“Hey, Mike, want to help me walk the girls back to Towers dorm?” Kevin asks.
“Sure thing.” Mike stands up and sets his cup down.
“Sorry, ladies. The party’s breaking up and the others are headed out to the bars,” Kevin explains. “But we Carlson boys have to call it an early night. We’ve gotta go see Mom tomorrow.”
These guys seem really attached to their mother. Is this good or bad? I wonder.
“That’s okay,” Chrissy chirps. “We’d love it if you walked us home.”
On the way to the dorms, I don’t say much, but I don’t have to. Kevin talks pretty much the entire time. Chrissy clings to his arm, giggling at every joke. Mike and I walk behind them. I make sure to keep my distance so Mike won’t think I’m hanging all over him.
After they leave us by the elevator of our gray shoebox of a dorm, Chrissy shoots me a big grin. “Those guys are hot!”
I hate this way of thinking. I want to believe that when I’m interested in a guy, I care about more than just his appearance. Then I remember Mike’s smile, and know my heart is a hypocrite.
Chrissy spends the rest of the weekend pretending not to wait for Kevin to call. When the phone finally does ring, she pauses to seductively shake back her hair before answering.
“Oh, it’s you, Angie…” Chrissy frowns. “No, it’s fine. I was just hoping you were someone else… You bet I meant a guy. He’s super cute, and so funny…” Chrissy blabs on and on to her younger sister, in excessive detail.
I tune Chrissy out. I need to study.
When she doesn’t see Kevin at all on Monday, Chrissy acts like she doesn’t care. On Tuesday, she gives in and drags me past his Accounting class, stopping short when we spot him laughing in the hallway with some other girl. We turn to make a hasty retreat.
On Wednesday, Chrissy announces she’s going to forget about Kevin. She never has any patience with boys who don’t abide by her schedule. She even consents to study with me in the library. I have my first quiz in Zoology the next day.
On the third floor of the library, we weave through the long tables in the open area near the windows.
“Let’s sit here,” Chrissy says.
“Why don’t we sit back at the private desks?” I ask. “It’s much quieter there.”
“Yes. Too quiet.” She plops her backpack on the table.
I sigh and do the same. I focus on my notes and try to ignore the other students’ loud complaints about how hard they are all studying.
Chrissy stays busy, scanning every guy who walks by. An abrupt change in her breathing catches my attention.
I glance up. Kevin and Mike approach our table. My heart thuds, and I stifle the wide smile that threatens to take over my face.
“Time for a study break. Do you want to join us?” Kevin asks, focusing on Chrissy.
My roommate stuffs her folders into her backpack in a nanosecond. She glares at me when she realizes I
’m not following her lead.
“Sorry, I can’t.” I grimace. “I haven’t finished reading my notes.” Why do I have to have a test tomorrow? This sucks!
Chrissy’s study breaks tend to last the rest of the night. No matter how wonderful Mike is, I have to finish studying if I want to ace my quiz tomorrow. Zoology is not a difficult class, but there’s a lot to memorize.
Chrissy snorts and flips her hair. “She’ll never come. She’s obsessed with her grades.”
“I’m sorry.” I peek at Mike.
“That’s okay,” he says with an adorable grin. “We’ll catch you next time.”
His smile haunts me after they leave.
He’s even cuter than I remembered. Plus he likes my shoes.
Maybe I’ve studied enough. Maybe I should take a break.
By the time I change my mind, they are long gone. My concentration falters. Instead of highlighting and underlining my notes, I doodle in the margins. When the same page blurs in front of my eyes for over twenty minutes, I give up and go searching for them.
They aren’t in the student union or the TV lounge. They aren’t getting ice cream or coffee. They aren’t anywhere to be found. I consider texting Chrissy, but don't. It would only annoy her that I changed my mind. I hike my stupid self back to my stupid, empty dorm room and brush my stupid teeth, then flop down on my stupid bed.
I’m still trying to fall asleep when Chrissy comes in about an hour later, humming a tune.
“Emma, are you awake?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble.
“Guess what?” Chrissy squeals. “We’re going on a double date this weekend!”
“We are?” I sit up, my heart racing.
“Yeah… Well, when I said ‘we’, I meant me and Angie, though. You knew that, right?”
“What?”
“Well, Angie’s coming up this weekend. She’s my sister―I can’t just ditch her. Besides, you don’t even like those guys. You didn’t want to go to their party last weekend, and you wouldn’t hang out with them tonight. I just figured you wouldn’t want to go.”
“Oh…right.” I flop back on my bed, defeated.
Angie doesn’t even live here, and she still gets more dates than I do.
ngie Peterson breezes into our dorm room, wearing an amethyst amulet and an organic cotton peasant skirt. Her cell phone twinkles new age music from within the depths of an artistically decorated fabric tote.
She fishes for the device, glances at the caller I.D., and sighs. “Yes, Mom, I just got here so I hadn’t had a chance to call you yet… Don’t worry, the drive was fine. I didn’t have any trouble… Okay then, bye now. Love ya. Call ya later.” Angie snaps her phone shut. “Can you believe her?”
“I know. She’s been calling me every five minutes for the last half hour. Where were you, anyway? You’re late. We already ordered the pizza and everything.” A drying blue mud mask covers Chrissy’s face as she debates what color to paint her nails.
“There was a good song on the radio so I missed my turn.” Angie chooses a bottle of ruby-red nail polish and shakes it. “Use this one. It’s a good luck color.”
“You and your good luck.” Chrissy snorts. She grabs the bottle out of her sister’s hand.
“Believe what you will.” Angie plops down in our lounge chair. “Hello, Emma. How are you?”
“Good.” My smile is tight and short-lived. Except you’re going on a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever seen, and I’m trying really hard not to hate you because of it.
When Angie visits, the three of us usually hang out together the whole time. Neither Chrissy nor I have access to a car on campus, so having Angie drive us around is a sweet ticket to freedom.
Angie is the type of person I secretly long to be. Last year, I went home with Chrissy once for the weekend. I marveled at the hand-painted, glow-in-the-dark constellations standing watch over Angie’s room. Colorful candles covered every surface. A bright handmade quilt pieced together from the remains of their grandma’s wardrobe covered her bed. On the bedside table rested a witchcraft book Angie inherited from her grandmother, the Book of Shadows.
Chrissy said her sister was devastated when their grandma died, but Angie doesn’t seem to need anyone. She produces an endless river of her own healthy self-esteem. If I could generate even a trickle of what surges through Angie’s confident veins, I know I could be a much different sort of person.
Angie never wears any makeup and proudly says she doesn’t need to, which is actually true. She only paints her nails in hues to enhance her good fortune and happiness. For some reason, Chrissy never clamors that her younger sister needs a makeover, like she always does with me.
However different we might be, the three of us usually get along well enough whenever Angie visits. But this time around, I can’t help but feel cheated out of my rightful half of the double date tomorrow night. Since the party, I’ve run into Mike twice on campus. Both times we’ve walked together, since our next classes were in the same building, but that doesn’t mean he’s interested in me. He’s probably just being nice.
Now, to make things even worse, Angie peppers me with questions about Mike. “What year is he? What’s his major? What’s he like? Is he as cute as Chrissy says he is?”
“Why are you asking me?” I help myself to another slice of the gooey pizza we had delivered to the dorm, since Chrissy can’t go anywhere after applying that mask.
Angie shrugs. “You just seem to know more about him than Chrissy does.”
“Oh. I see.” I nod and avert my eyes. That’s because I’m obsessed. I remember every single word he ever said to me, but I don’t want anyone to know that.
We spend the next day shopping at Oakwood Mall on the other side of town.
Chrissy examines the racks of flattering jeans and hip, trendy tops. “I need something great to wear on our date tonight.”
Angie tries on a series of organic, loosely flowing clothes.
I pick out a blue and green shirt and hold it up in front of me.
Chrissy frowns. “I don’t know what it is about you, Emma, but everything you wear looks exactly the same.”
I sigh and hang the shirt back on the rack.
Eventually, we return to the dorm, where Angie and Chrissy prepare for their double date. Angie’s done after a quick shower, but Chrissy takes even longer than usual, trying on outfit after outfit until she’s satisfied.
I roll my eyes. “I thought you were going to wear that dress you just bought today.”
“Now I’m not sure,” Chrissy whines.
Angie sits beside me. “Why don’t you come with us tonight? Won’t you be lonely here all by yourself?”
Chrissy throws her a horrified glare.
I hesitate a moment before answering. Could I really tag along? No, that would be stupid. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
“Fifth wheel, actually,” Chrissy corrects.
Then they’re off to dinner at that fancy Fanny Hill restaurant, and I don’t know what to do with myself. The book I wanted to read last weekend no longer holds any appeal. I pace the halls, watch something lame in the TV lounge for awhile, and eventually clump back to our dorm room to mope. After cleaning off the clutter on top of both my dresser and my desk, I erase my whiteboard.
“Might as well put up a new quote,” I say out loud to no one and write out the words:
“The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence.”
―Marianne Moore
Then I drop down on my bed and close my eyes. My cruel imagination bombards me with images of Mike laughing at something Angie said. Why am I torturing myself? I roll over and will myself to fall asleep.
Hours later, I wake to the sound of a key in the door.
Angie whispers in the darkness. “Should we ask Emma if she wants to come along?”
“If you want to be the one responsible for waking her up,” Chrissy warns. “She isn’t always that pleasant to be around in the morning.�
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“I could say the same about you.” I roll out of bed and rub my eyes. “Where are we going? What are we doing?” Please let it be something with Mike.
“It’s a secret,” Angie teases, tossing me my jacket. “Come on, sleepyhead. We’ve got important business to attend to.”
“Okay, I’m coming.” I yawn, still half-asleep.
Chrissy chatters about the details of their date, but I don’t pay much attention. I watch Angie copy some words from her Book of Shadows onto a pink piece of paper. She always brings that mysterious book with her when she visits, along with a stack of colored candles and matches, and a framed picture of their grandma.
I know it’s wrong, but I wish I’d thought to read that book while Angie was out on my date. I’d love to know what’s in there.
Angie tucks the paper, some candles, and matches into a tote bag. “Now we’re ready to go!”
“Where?” I ask.
“Just follow me.” Angie smiles, her eyes sparkling.
We head out into the crisp night air. Angie points to a large rock near the edge of the Putnam woods. “Let’s sit over there.”
“It feels strange to be outside this late at night,” I whisper as we cross the parking lot.
“Do you think the campus cops will drive by and stop us?” Chrissy asks.
“Why would they stop us?” Angie reasons. “It’s just a little love spell.”
“A love spell?” I turn to Chrissy. Does she really believe in this stuff?
“Yes, a love spell,” Angie confirms. “Kevin is definitely a keeper. He’s the best guy Chrissy has ever dated.”
“I agree,” Chrissy says as we near the rock.
“And you’ve dated a lot.” Angie smiles as she kneels down and spills her sack upon the ground.
“But you’ve only just met him.” I settle down on the grass.
“So what? I just know he’s the one,” my roommate declares.
Chrissy always decides after the first or second date if a guy is worth her time. How can she be so sure of herself and her first impressions?
“So, Angie, what did you think of Mike?” I ask. My heart thumps. Do I even want to know?