UI 101

by M. K. Claeys

  I made several jaunts—okay, struts—down the hall, being sure to show Brad just how good a time we were all having through his open door, and eventually I forgot to stop trying. I was just plain having a good time. Everything was going well…until the room’s landline started ringing. And wouldn’t stop.

  “Ryn, for the love of God, will you just answer it?!” I yelled.

  “No! We both know it’s Brian, and I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “But if you don’t,” said Paul, passing us each a Jell-O shot, “he’ll just keep calling.”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to him,” called Mitzy from the futon. “Just let her be!”

  “Yeah!” cried Ryn, as the phone went off again. “What Mitzy said!”

  “If you don’t answer that stupid thing, I’m going to unplug it, and then you’re going to have to deal with Brian driving down here and asking you to your face why you’re not picking up!”

  “Rae, no!”

  Looking back, maybe I should have just let the stupid thing ring.

  Answer it she did, and apparently the reaction Brian had to all the noise in the background was not a good one, if Ryn’s face was any indication. She tried to take the call into the bathroom, but the girl who was always throwing up at everyone’s parties barged in and starting worshiping the porcelain goddess. Ryn then moved to the hallway, but a group of four more toga-clad partiers showed up and rallied around the co-hostess, dragging her back into the room and causing her to drop the phone.

  Unfortunately for Ryn, it happened to be picked up by Scott’s super-hot friend, Erik.

  “Hey, what’s up?!” Pause. “Who?” Pause. “Oh, Ryn! You mean the hot Asian chick throwing the killer party?” Smirk. Pause. “All right, dude, chill out!” Breath. Hand covering the receiver. “Ryn? Hey, gorgeous! Phone call.”

  Ryn made her way through the crowd and grudgingly took the phone from Erik. A moment later, the party did an overly dramatic silent pause as she started yelling into the phone.

  “Look, Brian, Rae and I are having a party with our friends, and I’m being very rude by ignoring them and talking to you. I’ll call you tomorrow!”

  “Whoa, you tell him, girl!” cat-called CiCi.

  “Yeah!” said Erik, walking over to where Ryn was standing by the door. “Who was that guy, your overly protective brother? He totally freaked out on me.”

  “Sorry about that,” Ryn muttered.

  “Don’t worry. You should not apologize for that guy, no matter what his relation is to you. Honestly, I didn’t want to even give you the phone because, if the way he was talking to me was any indication, he should not ever have verbal communication with a lady.” Erik paused again before tentatively asking, “Seriously, though, who was he? Do you want me to say something to him? Because I will. He doesn’t seem right in the head if he’s talking to you like I think he was.”

  Ryn turned to him, and I thought I was going to see a vicious glare on her face, but I was wrong. She was smiling genially. “No one. He was no one. Or rather, he was an annoying pest that will not be bothering us any more tonight.” And she ripped the phone cord out of its jack.

  “Whoa,” breathed Erik as the party got back into swing.

  “And you,” she flustered, rounding on him. “Did you really just call me gorgeous?”

  “Well, you are,” Erik shrugged, just as casually as an upper-classman could be.

  And Ryn, just as casually as a freshman toga party hostess could be, grabbed the front of his toga and kissed him full on the mouth. At which point Paul, Mitzy, CiCi, and I all nodded to one another and took another Jell-O shot.

  Seriously. For as much as I hate Brad and Dave, I think I hate Brian even more. He’s such a little shit.

  20

  Kathryn

  Paul was texting again. It didn’t bother me because for once I was taking notes, and Paul could copy them off me once we got back to the dorms if he missed anything important.

  Which he won’t. This class totally sucks. All she does is make a PowerPoint of the text and present it. I could read the book and ditch and still get a 4.0. Except then I’d actually have to read.

  I doodled in the margin of my notebook, asking Paul who was blowing up his phone. He simply winked at me. That meant it was Dani. Dani, the resident stud of Paul’s gay life, who obviously wanted his nuts, but whom Paul refused to ask out. I simply didn’t get it. Paul was prime hottie, and Dani was all about it, but Paul had zero confidence when it came to males. He’d had girl after girl in high school—obviously nothing too serious, due to his orientation and whatnot—but when it came to pursuing something that could legitimately be long term, he froze. So I texted him and told him as much.

  * * *

  Stop being a pansy. ASK HIM OUT.

  SU Ryn.

  I won’t shut up. DO IT.

  No. I don’t even think he likes me. :-(

  OMFG if u don’t I will take ur phone & do it 4 u.

  If u do we will get kicked out of lecture again.

  Dammit. I h8 u so hard right now.

  * * *

  That ended that. I dutifully took notes until the end of lecture, and then, as we walked out, I smacked Paul upside the head with my spiral notebook.

  “Ow! What was that for?” Paul cried, rubbing the back of his head with his palm.

  “You’re being stupid. Of course Dani wants you. He makes googly eyes at you all the time when you’re not looking.”

  “He does?”

  Paul forgot about his headache completely after that. He was on cloud nine and completely useless for conversation the entire way back to the dorms.

  I steered Paul toward the administration office, not that he noticed, but I had some paperwork I needed to turn in. I had finally decided to declare a major. It had only taken me a semester and a half, but it made sense to study political science. After all, it was the only thing I was really interested in besides music, and I knew I couldn’t play an instrument to save my life.

  The admin lady was pretty cool as she passed my paperwork through. Apparently there were students who didn’t declare a major until after their sophomore year, so in reality, I was kind of right on schedule. I guess not everyone had a calling like Mitzy and Rae did. It was common for people to take five years to finish a Bachelor of Arts instead of the usual four, especially if they ended up changing majors or schools.

  Who knew? I guess I’m not such a slacker after all.

  Honestly, it was a little creepy just how much information the admin lady knew just from my name. On the university’s website she was able to pull up my dormitory address, phone number, major—now that I had one—and semester I’d started. With her own password, she was able to see my class schedule and my grades, and she even commented on how much I was improving since last semester, since the mid-term grades had just been submitted.

  How fucking creepy is that? Illington has its own Stalker-Net. I wonder who else I can find on there.

  Once I finished my business at the administration office, Paul and I headed back to the dorms. I had my new printout of my student information that declared me as a poly-sci major and a cool University of Illington Political Science sticker to put on my car window—that is, if I had a car to stick it to. Today was looking to be a pretty good day.

  We got into the elevator with the rest of the Friday-class crowd and dropped Paul’s stuff off in his room before we headed over to mine to hit the books. The door was open but Rae wasn’t inside, so I figured she’d run over to Mitzy’s for a minute.

  “You know you’re going to have to ask Dani out eventually, right?” I asked as I threw my coat into the closet, breaking Paul out of his reverie.

  “Yeah, probably. But then if I do, you have to promise to tell me what the deal is between you and your man.”

  “No way!” I squealed, tossing a pillow at him. “You can’t make me!”

  “You wanna bet?” he challenged.

  “You’re on, buddy,” I cr
ied and then launched myself at him, knocking him to the floor. “Ha! Got your arm!”

  “Not anymore you don’t!”

  “Ow, that’s my leg!” I wriggled out of the hold and launched myself at him again, using my body as a flying projectile.

  “Ow, you got my eye.”

  “Ooh, sorry! You okay?”

  “Yeah, but you won’t be in a second!”

  “Oomph!” We wrestled around a bit before I heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door open. Rae’s Birkenstocks emerged in the open doorway by the hall with Mitzy’s gorilla slippers behind them.

  Wait, if Rae and Mitzy were down the hall, then who was in our bathroom?

  “Get off her!” I heard a familiar-sounding voice yell.

  Before I knew it, Paul had been lifted off me. I was relieved to be out of the headlock, but as soon as I looked up, I would have given anything to be back in it and screaming for mercy…if it had only meant that my boyfriend hadn’t punched my best friend in the face.

  “Brian, stop!” I screamed, as Mitzy and Rae both jumped in to get Paul out of harm’s way. “What are you doing? Stop!”

  Paul’s nose was bleeding, so Mitzy ran to the bathroom to grab a wad of toilet paper, while Rae walked placidly over to our mini-fridge to make an ice pack.

  God, we’ve certainly gone through a lot of those this year.

  “He was attacking you, Kathryn! I was just taking care of you. Why are you even still here, you jackass?” he shot at Paul. “Don’t you know when you’re not wanted?”

  Wisely, Paul didn’t say anything. He just let Mitzy and Rae croon over him, playing nurse.

  “Brian, what are you doing here?” I fumed. “And more importantly, why did you just punch my friend?”

  “This psycho is your friend?”

  “One of my best friends. Now answer me!”

  “I came here to get you for the weekend. You said you weren’t coming home, but you sounded like you didn’t mean it. So I came to surprise you and pick you up.”

  I groaned. “Brian. If you had been listening, you would have understood that the reason I wasn’t coming home this weekend is because Paul and I have a political science test on Monday and we are going to study for it all weekend.”

  “And just who is this Paul guy?”

  “That would be me,” said Paul, standing up and offering his free hand to Brian, after he wiped the blood off on his corduroys. Brian didn’t take it.

  “You were going to spend the entire weekend ‘studying’ with a guy who was just all over you on the floor? You know, Ryn, if you wanted to go out with someone else, why couldn’t you have just told me?”

  “No, man, really, you’ve got it all wrong,” Paul began, but Brian cut him off, and Mitzy shoved more toilet paper under his nose and held it there because it had started bleeding again.

  “You stay out of this! Just because my girlfriend is being a bitch-ass cunt and fucking you behind my back does not mean you have the right to talk to me!”

  What happened in the next instant seemed to pass in slow motion before my eyes. Paul’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor, and his hands clenched into fists. Mitzy gasped and dropped the toilet paper she was holding under Paul’s nose, causing him to bleed all over the area rug. Rae dropped the ice pack she had been making, and ice skittered into the bathroom. And I…I began seeing red. Seriously, it was like I had tunnel vision, and everything went scarlet to match the newly re-dyed streaks in my hair.

  Paul, Mitzy, and Rae turned into little reddish-black blobs on the outside of my tunnel, and all I could see was Brian. Brian, and how pissed I was. My rage had taken on an entire new quota of energy. I kneed my now, instantaneously decided ex-boyfriend in the groin and then punched him in the face, since in his doubled-over state, his face was now short enough for me to reach it. My hand raised itself up again automatically to go in for a second punch, but I dropped it back down to my side.

  “Get out.” I said it so quietly it was a wonder he even heard me. Tears were stinging behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall while that asshole was standing there to see it. I had cried enough in private over Brian to fill an ocean, but I refused to let him see it. “Get out and never call me again.”

  “You’re going to leave me for this piece of emo trash?” Brian wheezed behind watering eyes, gesturing lamely in Paul’s direction.

  “Dude,” said Rae exasperatedly from her position on the floor where she had started picking up the ice, “Paul is gay.” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which only had to hurt Brian’s already wounded pride even more. “Have you listened to anything Ryn has told you since she moved to Illington?”

  Brian’s head snapped up, and he looked at Paul, who only nodded his affirmation.

  “I believe the lady asked you to leave,” said Mitzy, her blue eyes appearing more like icicles than anything I’ve ever seen, as she pointed to the door. Brian grabbed his coat and limped toward the hallway. “Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out,” Mitzy added sweetly as Rae slammed the door behind him.

  “Well, Ryn, I guess I was wrong,” said Paul, as he slowly took the tissue away from his post-bloody nose. “You don’t need to tell me about the issue with your man after all.” We all laughed awkwardly. “What a head case.”

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know whether I should dance for joy at finally being rid of the weight that had been dragging me down for so long or throw myself out the window and put myself out of what I was sure would be weeks of post-break-up misery and threatening and depressing phone calls. I could also do the responsible thing and call Dr. Hector and have an emergency session, but I had been doing so well lately that I really didn’t want to bother her. I was afraid she might make me come home. That she might tell me that I wasn’t strong enough for school. I was still debating and starting to lean strongly toward the window option when Paul broke the silence.

  “Want to make caramel popcorn?” he asked.

  I smiled and wiped away the tears that had leaked out, grateful that there didn’t seem to be any more behind them. “Yes. Yes, I do want to make popcorn. I want to make it, melt the caramel in a separate bowl and drizzle it on so each kernel is coated evenly. Then I want to eat it and watch SLC Punk! in between studying chapters in political science for the exam I plan to ace on Monday.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” concurred Paul, whose nose had mercifully stopped bleeding. “Everyone get your books. It’s a study party. Rae, you’re in charge of popcorn and deciding when it’s break time. Mitzy, here’s ten bucks. Go down to Buck Buck’s and buy a four pack of Red Bull. I am going to go wash my face, and when I get back, Ryn, I expect you to show me that defensive move you almost just kicked my ass with.”

  We three girls saluted, announced “Sir, yes sir!” and made our ways to do our assigned tasks.

  Good riddance, Brian. Why would I need you when I’ve got friends like these?

  21

  Mitzy

  Spring break was coming up faster than I could get my reading finished. I wanted to finish all my assignments before I left, but really, the professors were making it difficult by not assigning them until the second-to-last day of class before the break.

  Golly, I mean I know I’m, like, the only person on this floor who reads ahead anymore, but still, you’d think the professors would think along the same lines as me!

  I’d called my mama and papa last week to clear everything with them, and I was going to ask today. Surprisingly, I was nervous. What if they said no? What if they wanted nothing to do with me and had just been being nice these last six months because they felt bad about my “Tasha Situation?”

  Don’t be silly, Mitzy Callaway. Rae and Ryn love you. They’re like family—we’re one little University of Illington family.

  I finished my studies and walked down to Ryn and Rae’s room to pick them up for dinner. As we made our way down, I was glad for the first time that we didn’t run into a
nyone else. I wanted to have dinner alone tonight, just us girls. We made our way through the line and sighed simultaneously at the same selection we’d had the week before.

  “Oooh,” said Rae, sarcastically, “it’s the Tuesday special again, Viscount of Vindelou, formerly labeled as Sunday’s beef pot roast. And here’s your favorite, Ryn, the Countess of Cheesy Colon-rot, cunningly hiding under the guise of homemade baked macaroni.”

  “Rae, you know that’s nauseating, right?” I asked conversationally as I heaped a rather sticky helping of macaroni onto my tray.

  “No more nauseating than serving us yesterday’s fresh fruit chopped up and disguised as today’s fruit salad.”

  “Notice the key absence of the word fresh,” added Ryn, but it didn’t stop her from filling up a large bowl with it. “Look, they peeled the grapes to make them blend in better with the eyeballs taken from the veterinary medicine labs.”

  Surprisingly, the disgusting names they made up for our entrees every week didn’t make us lose our appetites. It nearly had the first time this happened before dinner, and although I’d repeatedly asked all my friends to knock it off, it never happened.

  Well, if you can’t beat them…

  “What about this one?” I asked, pointing to a rather shady dish of Spam patties. “Does anyone want a nice, healthy portion of the Sultan of Scrotum Scrapings, cleverly disemboweled, cut from its rectangular canister, and shaped into a new round patty to make us think it might actually be real meat?” They stared at me. “No takers? Well, good, then there will be more for Creepy Cafeteria Boy.”