Jason grinned at me. “If we get a band together you can write lyrics for us.”
I smiled back, feeling warm all over. “I could give it a shot,” I said, getting goose bumps along my arms as I looked into his blue eyes.
When dinner was over and everyone went to bus their trays, Sam and I were the last to get up.
“Very impressive,” he said to me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt before.”
“That’s because I’m horrible at it. I only gave it a try tonight because you were so obnoxious. I owe my first successful flirting attempt to you, Sam.”
He shook his head, but he was smiling. “I guess I’ll have to live with that.”
I started to pick up my tray. But before I could, Sam moved my dishes and silverware onto his tray, stacked it on top of mine, and picked them both up.
“Um… thanks?”
He seemed to notice what he’d done for the first time. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You don’t have to apologize for clearing my tray for me. But I thought the plan was for us to stay out of each other’s way,” I reminded him.
“Well.” He started to walk toward the bussing station and I followed. “Maybe we don’t have to,” he said. “I mean, we don’t have to hang out together—not on purpose, anyway—but we don’t have to go out of our way to avoid each other. Unless you want to,” he added.
“No,” I said after a moment. “I like your plan better.”
“Good.”
Then something occurred to me. “Wait a minute. Is this only because Tamsin’s my roommate and you want to be able to stop by and see her?”
Sam grinned. “She is pretty hot. I suppose that might be my unconscious motivation.”
I’d been half joking, and I could tell he was half joking, too… but for some reason my good mood evaporated. I felt depressed—and I had a sudden urge to call my parents. Maybe it was homesickness coming on.
“I think I’m going to head back to my room,” I said to Sam.
He looked a little surprised. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“See you later.”
* * *
I went up to my room and called my moms, and we talked for half an hour. I felt worse after that, not better, so I was glad when Tamsin didn’t come back for a couple of hours. By the time she did I’d gotten myself together again and was sitting up in bed with a book.
“Hey,” she said, heading straight for the cigarettes by her bed. “Jason and Andre and Claire are going to be jamming downstairs in a few minutes. Want to come hear them?”
“Sure,” I said, putting my book down.
Tamsin had lit up and was puffing away like someone with a serious addiction, which did not bode well for her future as a nonsmoker, but while she was gone I’d decided to make every effort to get along with her.
“They found somebody who plays drums so they’ll be in full band mode.” She looked at me sideways. “Sam said he’d come.”
“That sentence sounded fraught with meaning.”
She smiled at that and stubbed out her cigarette.
“Sorry. It just seemed like you guys… like there might be something there.”
I shook my head. “We went to high school together, that’s all.”
She sat down cross-legged on her bed. “You did? Were you ever a couple?”
“Definitely not. We weren’t friends, either.”
“You seem friendly now.”
I shrugged. “When we found out we were both living in Bracton we declared détente. We’re in college now, so, you know, older and wiser.”
“Huh.” She paused. “Did he say anything about me? When you guys were talking after dinner.”
She was obviously interested, and there was no reason not to tell her. “He said you were hot.”
Her black-lipsticked mouth tipped up in a big smile, and she looked less like a jaded twenty-five-year-old and more like a girl my age with a crush on a guy. “He did?”
“He did.”
“Well.” She thought about that for a moment, the smile lingering at the corners of her mouth, and then got up from her bed and sat down on mine. “How come you guys never dated? Don’t you think he’s gorgeous?”
“He’s not my type.”
“Sexy men aren’t your type?”
“Sure, but everyone’s definition of sexy is different.”
“I guess. So what’s yours?”
“Well… Jason.”
Tamsin looked surprised. “Really? He’s cute, but he seems kind of pretentious.”
I remembered my resolution to get along. “Then I guess I like cute and pretentious.”
“Okay, fair enough. But just to verify this information… you think Jason is sexier than Sam?”
“Yes.”
“Will?”
“Yes.”
“Andre?”
“Andre is so far out of my league it’s not worth thinking about.”
“You should aim high.”
“I’m already aiming high. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of average-looking. It’s not like I can have my pick of guys or something.”
Tamsin studied me with a critical eye. “It’s not that you’re average-looking. It’s more that you seem kind of… Amish.”
“Amish?”
“Well, what’s with the no makeup?”
“What are you talking about? I wear makeup.”
“Really? What do you have on right now?”
“Concealer, blush, mascara and lip gloss.”
“Seriously? You can’t tell at all.”
“That’s what I’m going for.”
“Amish?”
“Not Amish. Natural.”
“Okay, whatever. I don’t suppose I can interest you in a slutty makeover?”
“No, thanks. But makeup doesn’t make a woman slutty.”
Tamsin smiled. “So you’re saying I’m not slutty?”
“I don’t believe in slut-shaming girls for how they dress or do their makeup or—”
“How many guys they’ve slept with?”
“That, either. No one should be shamed for their choices.”
Tamsin looked at me for a moment. “You know something?”
“What?”
“I like you. You’re nice.”
It was an unexpected declaration, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Well, thanks.”
Tamsin slid off my bed and combed her fingers through her black hair. “Are you ready to go? They’ll be starting downstairs soon.”
“Sure.”
* * *
There were amps in the music room and Jason and Andre were plugged in. Claire was sitting at the upright piano, her fedora looking very cool in this new setting. There was a guy I didn’t know on a drum kit, another one playing rhythm guitar, and a girl holding a saxophone.
There were chairs stacked up in a corner and Will handed them out to those of us in the audience. Aside from me, Tamsin, Dyshell, Julia, Will, and Sam, there were five or six other people there I hadn’t met yet.
I took my chair to the back of the room so I could stare at Jason without anyone seeing me. I noticed that Tamsin copped the space next to Sam, and I noticed that he had to work pretty hard to keep his eyes from going to her cleavage.
What I’d told Tamsin was true: I didn’t believe in slut-shaming. If a girl wanted to put her sexuality right out there that was her prerogative. But for some reason I didn’t love watching her lean toward Sam to say something, or watching him rest his arm along the back of her chair as he said something back. So I was glad when Julia provided a distraction by sitting down next to me.
We chatted for a minute, and then the music began.
They played stuff that even I, not a music expert, could identify, which I guess made sense since they’d had to pick songs all of them knew. Considering they’d never played together before I thought they sounded pretty good.
When they were done w
e all kind of gathered around, talking, and helping to stack the chairs again. It was around midnight when we drifted out of the music room, and I expected we’d all be heading for bed. But when we got to the third floor and it was just Tamsin, Dyshell, Claire, Julia, and two girls I’d just met for the first time—Mena and Izzy—Claire said, “We should have a girl session.”
“A girl session?” Tamsin asked.
“Yes. A gathering of women. A sacred circle in which we shall bond with our breasts and our wombs.”
“A lesbian orgy?”
“I was thinking more about spiritual bonding.”
“Well, I’m in.” Tamsin looked at me. “What about you, Rikki?”
“Sure.”
It seemed that we were all in, and in a few minutes the seven of us we were in Claire and Dyshell’s room, curled up or sprawled out on the floor, the chairs, and the two beds.
“We should do summer camp get-to-know you rounds,” Izzy said. She was small and dark with bad acne and a beautiful voice, which we’d gotten to hear when she’d joined Claire in singing a Katy Perry song.
“What should we start with?” Dyshell asked.
“Where we’re from,” Izzy said. “I’m from the Bronx.”
“San Francisco,” said Tamsin.
“London,” said Mena, which explained her British accent.
“Ooh, international. I’m from Iowa,” Claire said.
“Louisiana,” said Dyshell.
“I’m from here. Drake, I mean,” Julia said.
“A townie,” Tamsin said with a grin. “Very cool. You’ll be able to show us where an underage girl can get a drink.”
“I’m from here too,” I said. “Well, two hours away. Summerfield.”
“Okay,” Claire said. “Let’s do majors now. I’m thinking about pre-med.”
“Me, too!” said Mena.
“History.” That was me.
“Drama,” said Tamsin.
“Physics,” said Dyshell.
“Wow,” Izzy said, looking impressed. “You guys all know what you’re going to major in? I don’t have a clue.”
“Me neither,” Julia said, and Izzy grinned at her.
“Thank God for that. Okay, now for something really important. Virgin or not?”
I’d been feeling really relaxed and happy, enjoying the company and feeling… I don’t know, part of things in a way I hadn’t always felt in high school. But now I felt myself tensing up. When Melinda had slept with her boyfriend last Christmas, I had become, once again, the odd one out—the only one of our friends to still be a virgin.
I didn’t want to share that information here. I didn’t want to feel like an outsider looking in, or like I had to apologize for my lack of sexual experience. I didn’t want this group of women—who I was really starting to like—to divide itself along sexual fault lines.
Claire frowned at Izzy. “Answers to that are optional.”
“That’s fine,” Izzy said. “I don’t mind telling you I’m not a virgin. Anyone else care to divulge?”
She looked at Julia, who was next to her.
Julia turned bright red. “Virgin,” she said.
I felt a rush of relief.
“Me, too,” Dyshell said quickly.
Claire shrugged. “Not a virgin.”
“Not a virgin,” Tamsin said.
“Virgin,” I said, very grateful that Julia and Dyshell had gone before me.
Mena hesitated. “I’m not sure how you’re defining virginity.”
“Have you ever had sex with a guy?” Izzy asked.
“No, but I’ve had sex with girls.”
Izzy smacked herself in the forehead. “I was being totally heterocentric and I didn’t even notice. It just goes to show how unconscious our preconceptions are. Sorry about that.”
Mena smiled. “It’s no problem.”
“What about relationship status?” Tamsin asked. “Anyone have a boyfriend… or girlfriend?”
And just like that, we were past the whole virgin/not virgin thing and it didn’t seem to matter.
It turned out that Izzy and Claire were in relationships while the rest of us were single. After that the round robin morphed into conversation, and we chatted about movies, parents, music, and the start of classes next week.
Once the party had broken up and Tamsin and I were back in our room, lights off and ready to go to sleep, Tamsin said, “You know, I think I’m going to like living here.”
“Me, too,” I said.
Then I saw the flare of a match as Tamsin lit a cigarette, and I rolled away from her and pulled the covers over my head so I couldn’t smell it.
Chapter Five
The first day of classes was finally here.
Now that orientation week was over, I was actually about to attend my first university lecture in the History department. After that I had an English composition seminar that I’d had to write an essay to get into—those who were accepted got to wipe out two semesters of English requirements in one fell swoop—and then Astronomy 101, also known as Scopes for Dopes since it was the most popular way for non-science majors to satisfy their science requirement.
The history class didn’t start until nine o’clock, but I was up and raring to go at seven.
“You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?” Tamsin asked, watching me bounce around the room as she lay in bed.
“Of course I am! Aren’t you?”
“Good God no. But I went to this really intense private school and I’ve already done the academic enthusiasm thing. I’m over it.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Obviously.” She rolled over and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Go have breakfast or something, will you? I want to go back to sleep and your perkiness is keeping me awake.”
I struck a pose and started to sing. “Oh what a beautiful morning, Oh what a beautiful day—”
Tamsin threw her pillow at me.
* * *
My first class was on American military history before World War I, and the professor was amazing. After the lecture I went out onto the quad, sat down under a tree I’d picked out last week, and started on my first class reading assignment.
Every few minutes I looked up from my book and took in the scene around me: students walking to and from classes, the blue sky and the gray stone buildings, the robin hopping near me and showing interest in the crumbs from my breakfast sandwich. I scattered them on the grass between us, and he and a few of his brethren came to take care of them.
An hour later I headed to my English comp seminar. I fully expected to be the first one there, just as I’d been the first one in the history lecture hall, but there was already someone sitting at the long rectangular table.
Sam Payne.
“You have to be stalking me,” I said, taking a seat across from him. “That’s the only explanation.”
He looked up from the book he’d been reading. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to be a humanities major. You’re going to be an engineering major. You’re the one who doesn’t belong in this class.”
“Even engineers have to satisfy English requirements. This way I can do it faster.”
That actually made sense… especially since Sam was pretty good in English. He wouldn’t have any problems with this class.
“I haven’t seen you much this week,” I said, changing the subject.
One of his eyebrows went up. “I’m surprised you noticed. Did you miss me?”
“No.”
“I’m cut to the quick. Well, I’ve been going home a lot. I won’t be able to as much now that classes have started, and I wanted to make sure my mom and my sister were doing okay.”
That reminded me of our fight the last month of school. “Are they? Okay, I mean?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they are.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I guess I am. Here I was all worried about how they’d survive without me, and it turns out the
y’re doing just fine.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you don’t hate me for giving up the Hart scholarship anymore?”
I expected a snarky response, but his expression was serious when he spoke. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
I was so surprised I didn’t know how to answer. The two of us had a well-established dynamic of never giving up an inch of ground and never voluntarily ceding an advantage.
But then students started trickling in, so I didn’t have to say anything. Five minutes later the professor arrived and class began.
“I want to congratulate you for being accepted into this seminar,” Professor Timms told us a little while later, after giving us an overview of the coming semester. “I’m also pleased to announce that this year, one of my freshman students will be eligible for a Summer Scholar grant. These grants were created to encourage students who are considering a career in academia. They include housing in our Fellows Hall and a $5,000 stipend, and the only requirement is that you spend the summer pursuing academic research on a project of your choice, in any subject.”
The moment she stopped speaking my future opened up before me.
I was going to win that grant.
“The criteria for the freshman award will include your final grade in this class as well as the research proposal you submit for consideration. The decision will be made in January. Now, then, let’s talk about my expectations for essay-writing. If you’ll take a look at the second handout I gave you…”
What Professor Timms had described was like a dream come true. I could devote a whole summer to researching a topic in American history, spending hours in the library… when I wasn’t traveling around to Civil War battlefields (assuming I decided to focus on the Civil War).
I felt a tingling at the back of my neck and looked up. Sam was staring at me, and when our eyes met he shook his head slowly and mouthed two words.
You’re toast.
A little rush of adrenaline made my heart speed up. I shot him a derisive glance, but I was grinning. This was actually the only element that had been missing to make this moment complete: the thrill of competition with a worthy adversary.
Rikki Page 5