by M. K. Claeys
“All right, see y’all later!”
Y’all. She said y’all. Adorable.
“Whoa!” Ryn breathed, as we stepped onto the elevator. “I feel like I’ve just been mind-warped.”
“By the accent, right?”
“Yes! It’s like, if I don’t become her friend, I will absolutely die.”
“I know!” I cried. “She’s so sweet! I dropped my ID coming up the ramp, and she ran after me to give it back. That’s how I met her.”
“What a sweetheart,” Ryn said, smiling. “I swear, though, Southern accents can make some people sound so stupid, but not her. She totally kicks the stereotype to the proverbial curb.”
“Totally,” I agreed. “And nice use of ‘proverbial.’ I bet her mind is even brighter than her eyes. Here’s my car.”
“Whoa. You weren’t kidding! About the car, I mean. No wonder you don’t have much stuff. Ah, you’re from New Mexico,” she said, glancing at my license plate. “That explains a lot.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Evansdale, New Mexico, a town you’ve probably never heard of,” I added, seeing the blank look in her eyes.
“You’ve got that right. Shall I get your trunk from the back seat, and you can wheel the rest in the cart?”
“Sure. Thanks, I really appreciate all the help.”
“No problem. What are roommates for, anyway?”
She hauled my trunk into my side of the closet after we got back upstairs, and I shoved the cart over the doorframe. All my stuff was here, and I was glad Ryn had been willing to grab my trunk—she had saved me from making a third trip.
I looked around what was going to be my new room, and I felt like I was coming home, instead of having just left it. Ryn’s bedding was navy with cream, and my own stuff was a mix of deep red and silver (the school colors). There was a nice Turkish-style area rug in the middle of the floor that she had put down over the tile that had a combination of wine, navy, and cream. The rug tied everything together and made it look as though we had planned the entire room’s color scheme, though it was purely coincidence. Pictures of what I assumed must be Ryn and her family (mom, dad, older brother) were spread out on her desk and on (exactly) half of the shelf over the futon. Another picture had Ryn and a guy in it—he was white, so clearly not part of the family. A vase of lilies on the window seat caught my eye as I tossed a throw pillow with the university crest up onto it.
“Pretty flowers,” I commented. I walked over, buried my face in them and inhaled deeply.
“Yeah,” Ryn said, clearly pleased that I had noticed. “My boyfriend, Brian, sent them up with my dad.” She gestured to the photo I had just been looking at.
“Cute!” I said appreciatively, and she beamed. He was medium height with light brown hair, and wore a shirt that referenced a band I had never heard of. The guy looked nice enough, but wasn’t really my type. Now that beautiful boy in the baseball cap across the hall, on the other hand…
“You want me to turn some music on?” Ryn asked, interrupting my daydream as she hopped down from the top bunk to the floor.
“Yeah! What kind do you like?”
“Lots of stuff, I guess, but I usually listen to mostly punk rock,” she admitted. “Underground stuff, you know what I mean?”
“Oh. There isn’t much of an underground where I come from, so I’ve got mostly mainstream stuff.”
“No problem,” she said, clicking through her playlist on her computer. “Hey, here’s one band you might know of. They’re kind of old school, and not really underground, but I love them.”
I started putting away my clothes in the dresser and closet. “Oh, my God! I know this—it’s Garbage!”
“Seriously? I thought I was the only person in the world who still listens to Garbage!”
I shook my head. “No way, dude, I love them! I like how she sings alto and doesn’t care about fitting in with all the pop-star princesses.”
“Exactly!” Ryn hopped into her bunk again.
I grabbed all my shower stuff, along with the over-the-door towel rack I had bought. I picked up Ryn’s belongings off the floor and put them next to mine in the caddy. No sense in leaving more bits and pieces on the floor than was strictly necessary. The bathroom was small enough as it was. I peeked my head into the shower.
“What the hell is that?” I yelled, and Ryn came running.
“Is it a spider? Oh my gosh, please don’t let it be a spider. If it’s a spider, will you kill it, Rae? I hate them!”
“No,” I said grimly. “It’s not a spider; it’s even worse than a spider.”
Ryn hopped up on the toilet seat and gathered her skirt up around her knees. “Oh God! Not a mouse! Please not a mouse!”
“No, Ryn, not a mouse, the showerhead! There is no possible way I am using that piece of crap for the next eight months.”
Ryn finally stepped down off the toilet and peeked her head behind the curtain with me.
“Eww. That’s even worse than I thought. I made my mom bring my stuff in here because I was afraid something like this would happen.”
“No biggie,” I said, walking out and opening my trunk. “Ta-da!”
I held out the brand-new showerhead I had picked up back at the store in New Mexico before I left.
“Rae,” Ryn breathed, taking it carefully in her hands. “I love you.”
I laughed. “Why, thanks. I think we’re going to need a wrench, though, to get the old one off.” I rummaged through my trunk, emerging with only a rubber duck. “And it seems that a wrench is something I didn’t bring.”
“No problem,” Ryn insisted. “Watch this.”
She walked, no, strutted across the hall, walked straight up to Beautiful Baseball Cap Boy, and asked him for a wrench. All while I stood there in the doorway gaping at him like a fish out of water, holding the showerhead in one hand and my rubber ducky in the other. Beautiful Baseball Cap Boy disappeared into his closet and surfaced with an entire toolbox. He turned his cap backward and walked past me into our room.
“What’s broken?” he asked me pleasantly.
I stood there. I absolutely couldn’t move, so I gestured with my hand toward the bathroom. He took one look at me, still standing there like a mute, and smiled as he noticed what I was holding.
“You want to get rid of the crappy showerhead too?”
I kept standing there stupidly until Ryn waved her hands wildly behind Beautiful Baseball Cap Boy’s head.
Say something! she mouthed.
“Yes,” I squeaked.
Ryn smacked herself in the forehead as I cleared my throat.
“Um, yes, please.”
“Sure,” he said, reaching for the new showerhead in my hand. “Here, let me. I did my own earlier today, and it was kind of a pain and I got soaked. But I think I’ve got them pretty much figured out by now.”
I nodded stupidly again. I was too busy hoping that maybe he hadn’t figured it out quite yet and would end up soaking wet again.
Ryn grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bathroom with her to watch Mr. Fix-It in action. She chatted him up as he stood there in our shower changing the head, and I stood there admiring the, um, plumbing with my mouth closed this time.
“All set, ladies,” he said a few minutes later. “One non-crappy showerhead, just for you.”
“Ooh, thanks a lot!” gushed Ryn, taking the old one back from him. “Rae and I really appreciate it—don’t we, Rae?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked.
Oh, God. I squeaked again.
But Beautiful Baseball Cap Boy just smiled at me.
“It was my pleasure,” he insisted. “Hey, do you ladies want to come hang out with me and Paul in our room tonight? We can just chill and play some video games, or we could go out and run riot around campus if you want. But it’d be really cool if you came.”
Wait. Was he looking right at me when he said that last sentence?
“We’ll have to see if we have time,” said Ryn casually as we walked him to the
door. “Lots of stuff going on tonight, you know? We’re pretty busy.”
“Yeah, for sure. I understand. Well, even if you just stopped by to say hi, that would be great.”
“We’ll try our best,” Ryn said sincerely, shooting him a smile. “Thanks again for the shower thing.”
“No problem! It was nice meeting you, Ryn. You, too, Rae.”
I grinned. “Yeah. Nice meeting you.”
He smiled. “So I’ll see you around, then?”
“Yup, maybe later tonight, if we can,” said Ryn, shooing him out of our room. “You know, busy busy busy.”
He started to walk across the hall toward his door.
And man, as much as I hated to see him leave, it was sure nice to watch him walk away.
“Oh hey, Rae?”
“Ow!” I hissed. Ryn had just elbowed me.
“Yeah?” I flashed him what I hoped was a combination of a winning and seductive smile.
“Nice duck.” He closed his door.
Ryn laughed at me, pointing to my left hand.
Mr. Duckles had probably just cost me about two thousand cool points. “God, I am such a loser.”
5
Kathryn
Seriously, I have never seen someone struck completely dumb just by the mere presence of a semi-attractive member of the opposite sex. Until now. If I didn’t already know that Rae came from a tiny little town in the sticks, I would swear she had been raised in a convent and gone to an all-girls school.
But Brad wasn’t even that cute! Well, okay, maybe I was a little biased, considering the fact that I had never been interested in a guy who sports a hat that has Abercrombie & Fitch practically screaming at me from its lid, but if Rae dug him, though, more power to her. And if he liked her back, he’d be more than willing to fix anything in our room that broke. And then she could drool over him some more.
But seriously. Rae was so cool. If she would just talk to Brad, he couldn’t do anything but love her. I mean, how could you not like someone who liked Garbage just as much as I did? And she wasn’t too hard on the eyes, either. Okay, so I’ll admit it. I would kill to look like her. Who wouldn’t?
“So, Rae, you like Brad just a bit?”
“Who’s Brad?”
“What do you mean ‘Who’s Brad?’ The guy you’ve been staring at since you got here. The guy who fixed our shower.”
“Oh! You mean Beautiful Baseball Cap Boy?”
I had to laugh at that. “Yes. Beautiful Baseball Cap Boy, The same boy you were too busy staring at to acknowledge the fact that he informed us his alias is Brad Davis.”
“Brad.” She grinned. “Yeah, they don’t make ’em like that where I come from.”
“Apparently not,” I teased. “But what are we waiting for? Let’s go get him then!”
So we changed our clothes and started to get ready. Rae was pretty. I just didn’t think she realized it because she certainly didn’t use her attributes to their full potential. She wore her hair long, and I could tell it had a natural wave to it. It went about to the middle of her back and was the color of cocoa beans. She had almost a Native American feel to her, and her style showed it. Flowy skirts with simple tank tops and tan skin—but not fake, like that bottle-blonde chick I’d seen get off the elevator at the third floor when I got back from dinner with my parents. Even her jewelry complemented her—nice and simple but bright, so it catches the eye. I really liked her style. I was medium-boned, whereas Rae was more fine-boned, so I bet we could still share clothes. But not pants, though. She had about five inches on me.
I think what I liked most about her were her eyes. Rae’s eyes were green, not blatant like bottle- or grass-green, but green all the same. They had little flecks of gold in them too, I think. At least that was what it looked like when we were both doing our eye makeup in the mirror. Her eyes were nothing like mine. Mine were plain, boring old brown. I guess they would have to be, considering I’m Asian, but still. Everyone had brown eyes. Not very many people had green. But I did like my hair. It was stick straight and in tons of layers down to my chin. Lately I’d been dying chunky red streaks in it to make it funkier. I’d always loved doing crazy things to my hair, so I guessed it was a good thing my mom never minded when I was growing up, since she worked as a hairdresser.
“Don’t put your hair up, Rae! It’s so pretty down.” She stopped what she was doing and smiled at me. She had a nice smile.
“You think so? Thank you. It always gets in my face when I wear it down, though, and I’ve never quite mastered a cute way of pinning it.”
“I’ve got just the thing.”
I stepped into the bathroom and opened the second drawer to my accessory kit. Hair ornaments and beauty supplies galore. I rummaged for a few seconds and pulled out exactly what I was looking for from the second box on the back left, labeled fancy hair pins.
I parted Rae’s hair on the side and pinned it with a bright blue Hawaiian flower clip the same color as her skirt. I was pleased. It had turned out better than I thought.
“Perfect!”
“Wow!” she said, admiring the effect in the mirror as I pinned a red-jeweled barrette in the half ponytail on top of my head. “I like it a lot. Thanks, Ryn.”
“Keep it,” I offered. “Bright blue doesn’t really go with my look any more, not with the red streaks.”
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”
“No problem. I’m just glad it’s getting used again. You ready to go?” She nodded, and I held open the door. “Are you actually going to talk to Brad this time?”
She grinned. “I’m sure gonna try!”
Brad and Paul’s room was pretty full. Well, as full as a twelve-by-twelve box can get with any more than its registered occupants residing inside. There must have been ten to fifteen people crowded in there.
“Ryn! Rae! You made it!”
That was Brad. I could see he hadn’t bothered to change. In fact, I think he was wearing less clothing than before.
“Yeah,” I said nonchalantly, making my way over toward him through the sea of people. “We decided to squeeze you in, you know, seeing as you live across the hall and everything. We thought we should try to start the year off sociably and not prank you for at least all of welcome week.”
He grinned. “Excellent. This is Paul. Paul, this is Ryn and Rae.”
Now, although Brad was good at fixing things and apparently the apple of Rae’s eye, Paul was more my style. He was just as clean-cut as his roommate, but his hair was longer and he was wearing a Sex Pistols shirt.
‘“God save the Queen,’ huh?” I commented. “I love the Sex Pistols. Do you listen to The Clash at all?”
And the conversation rolled out from there. Oh yes. Paul and I were going to get along just fine, despite the fact that he was six foot three. I viewed the scene around me. Everyone was looking pretty cool, and most seemed to be from our floor. And Rae was finally talking to Brad, which was excellent. Wait a minute—they’re leaving together!
Damn, from hardly saying a word to him to suddenly taking him to our empty room? I wondered if Paul would let me crash on his futon if his roommate ended up sleeping with my roomma— Oh wait, they were back. I see now. She was carrying a fifth of Malibu Rum. He must have offered her a beer, and she’s a liquor sort of person.
“Hey, Rae! I’ve got Coke in our fridge if you want to mix it with that!”
Something vibrated on my hip. Oh no. My cell phone. Brian must be calling me. I’d forgotten to call him, but I had texted him at dinner to thank him for the flowers.
“So where are you from?” asked Paul.
I snapped back to attention and silenced my cell. Brian would have to wait.
“About a half hour north of campus. I basically grew up here. My brother graduated last spring. What about you?”
“I’m from Ann Arbor, and I swear I’m the only person there who couldn’t care less about the Wolverine’s football record.” He shrugged. “There’s a great punk scene
there, though. Some of the best shows I’ve ever been to have been in my home town, so that’s pretty cool. And then there’s Hash Bash and all sorts of cool summer festivals. People there are pretty open-minded, as a rule.”
“Here, Ryn,” Rae interrupted, passing me a cup. “I made you one. Thanks for the Coke. You do drink right? Not that it’s not cool if you don’t. Um, I mean, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous or anything. If you don’t want it, I can always drink it myself.”
I laughed. “Sure. No problem about the Coke. Cheers, roomie!” I took a swig.
Woah. She liked her drinks strong. I’d better be careful. Alcohol and I have had some difficulty playing well together since Dr. Hector changed my medication. I would just have to take it slow and keep reminding myself to take it slow. I took another sip, smaller this time. Malibu Rum and Coke was growing on me. It had a tropical coconut feel to it, kind of like Rae.
The music rolled on, and Paul and I took over the MP3s on his computer. I downloaded all the punk rock I knew of that he didn’t have and wrote down ones that he did that I’d never heard of. So far, college was great. I’d made new friends and gotten a bunch of new tunes to listen to. Top that off with drink number two being halfway gone, and I was starting to feel a little buzzed.
Take it slow, I repeated, take it slow.
“Hey!” called Rae, perching herself on the windowsill behind Paul’s desk so she could see the computer. “What’cha doin’?”
“Ryn’s adding more songs to my playlist,” explained Paul, looking back and forth between us as Anti-Flag’s “Right to Choose” played through the speakers. I’d never heard that one before, so I wrote it down on my must download list.
“You know, it’s a good thing you girls don’t look alike, or else this whole Ryn-Rae thing would be confusing,” Paul commented.
“What are you talking about?” Rae admonished. “Ryn’s my sister.”
I laughed at the confused look on Paul’s face. “Yup. Rae’s my sister all right—my sister from another mister!”
He laughed, despite the lameness of my joke. Which was nice of him. “I can see the family resemblance. You want to download a song, Rae?”