People repeated their hellos, but as the conversation continued along, meandering its way once again through people’s backstories, Ryley began to grow restless. She wanted to get started and meet the people with whom she would actually be sharing classes—her Section; currently, based on what she could observe from their lanyards, only Cassidy and Sophie would be with her.
Just as Ryley considered taking an unnecessary trip to the bathroom, an usher finally announced breakfast time was over. People immediately clumped together, having already identified friends in their Section, and moved toward the door in tandem. As they exited out into the corridor, Cassidy, who’d looped her arm through Sophie’s, slowed her steps to walk alongside Ryley. Ryley gave her a small smile in response before looking ahead down the corridor. She could just make out Olivia and Harrison standing in a loose circle with what looked to be other transfers.
Olivia was looking at them already, her attention inevitably drawn by the sound of stampeding One-Ls. Her brow furrowed as she darted her gaze between Cassidy and Ryley before letting her eyes rest on Ryley. Ryley could feel her judgment and knew instinctively that Olivia had expected something different from Harrison’s sister. Ryley didn’t care. Harrison had made it clear that she’d never be good enough; she expected nothing different from his friends.
CHAPTER 3
SEPTEMBER 2018
After a busy three-day orientation came the first day of classes. Arriving a generous ten minutes before her late afternoon Property class started, Ryley sidled up to a huddle of her classmates already gathered outside the door. They were once again in Wasserstein Hall, the building that had hosted their general orientation. Similar clusters of students were arranged throughout the hallway, all nervously murmuring and occasionally looking down at what appeared to be copious notes covering the assigned readings.
Sophie was speaking. “This professor cold calls like, half the class. Did you know that?” She was visibly preening, armed with the power of insider information, even as she twitched one hand against the other, her enthusiastic happiness the prior week transformed into enthusiastic, wholehearted anxiety.
The circle of students around Ryley let out groans and echoing sighs. Ryley stayed silent as her heartbeat accelerated.
“Yeah, Professor Kilmer is super impressive. You know he wrote the textbook?” Zeke asked, the question not really one, given that he immediately continued, “I heard he decides if you’re smart or not by the first week.”
“That seems like a rumor meant to scare One-Ls,” Ryley piped up. She hadn’t quite meant to speak aloud but needed to calm herself, to soothe the nerves that would make her feel completely out of sorts before class even started.
Zeke continued as if Ryley hadn’t spoken. “Well, anyway, because he calls on so many of us, I doubt any of the students in the class will remember if you mess up. Especially because we barely know each other’s names.”
Sophie also ignored Ryley and kept her giant Bambi eyes fixed on Zeke as if he were the authority on all things law school. Others also nodded, soothed now that Zeke had given them permission to be. Ryley clenched her jaw; this wasn’t the first time his words had been given an automatic weight hers weren’t. She supposed her skinny jeans and floral blouse didn’t exactly scream “serious scholar.” She should’ve worn a pantsuit to class; she did look good in a blazer.
Cassidy walked up, her indomitable presence despite her bright blue sundress quickly convincing Ryley that her lack of a pantsuit was not the problem.
“Hey, guys and gals!” Cassidy exclaimed, scooting between Sophie and Zeke and effortlessly forcing Sophie to take a step back. “I have a quick question about the reading—would someone mind confirming that pursuit is not enough and basically, a hunter needs to ‘deprive an animal of liberty’ and ‘subject it to control’ so as to own it?’” As she spoke, Cassidy moved her fingers to form air quotes around her thick Property book and the hefty notebook she was carrying in her hands.
Zeke immediately responded, “Yep, that’s about right; I think at the end of the day, you should understand that the case is pretty much about showing how no one starts with property rights to anything, and property law revolves around figuring out how to convert anything to individual ownership.”
Ryley wondered if everyone else also heard the sweetly patronizing lilt to his tone or if she was just jealous of his knowledge.
Zeke continued, “However, a Duke Law Journal article pointed out that in actuality it might have just been a turf war between old agricultural wealth and new commercial wealth.”
Cassidy gave him what could only generously be described as a smile of thanks, her narrow lips barely upturning at the corners.
Sophie spoke up in the resultant pause, asking, “Wait, can we go through the major takeaways of the case?” Sophie turned to Cassidy as she said this, her allegiance to Zeke diminished and forgotten in Cassidy’s presence.
As they spoke, Ryley became acutely aware she hadn’t done nearly as thorough a job as she thought she’d done, scribbling in the margins of the casebook as she had. She looked around at the ring of people and saw them glancing down at outlines laying out the major facts of the cases; some of these outlines were clearly taken from someone else, but others were brand new and freshly made and already spanned at least five pages. Their eyes lit up as they talked and she just felt envy; not of their knowledge but of their passion.
As Ryley kept her silence, she knew she was being mentally lowered in the minds of her peers, even as Zeke boosted himself to the top of “Smart People to Ask to Study With.”
Eventually, Cassidy snapped her textbook shut and authoritatively stepped into the classroom without checking to see if anyone would follow. Of course, her entrance catalyzed the rest of them, and the different clusters throughout the hall streamed into the classroom. Cassidy looked pleased if unsurprised by her natural leadership potential.
Ryley merely shook her head, somewhat used to the other girl’s sway at this point. At first, Ryley had only hung out with Cassidy tangentially during breaks in orientation, as part of a larger group of students that seemed to inevitably gather around wherever Cassidy was seated; however, after Orientation finished, Sophie had invited her along for drinks on the Saturday before classes started, and Ryley had said yes.
She had found Cassidy, Sophie, and Zeke waiting for her at the restaurant-bar Cambridge Common, a bar right down the street from the law school. The restaurant was homey, with red brick walls made a bit less uniform via interspersed wooden paneling and bright, cheery paintings. Upon entering, she had been greeted by a blast of general warmth and cheeriness, the smell of fried food and beer on tap, and the sound of people jeering at the TV. She hadn’t been able to help the smile that had immediately sprung to her face.
When she’d joined them, Sophie and Cassidy were already two drinks in and had been talking about their time as paralegals in New York, name-dropping bars and clubs she imagined she’d have been impressed by if she recognized their repute. She’d listened, nodding along before offering a safe, non-offensive streaking story and another second-class story about riding a moped. Otherwise, Ryley had let them carry the conversation but for prodding for more details or offering the odd snarky remark. She had been content to hoard her words, focused only on how entertaining she found them all. Ryley had liked their confidence and knowledge that they were as important as anyone else in the room. By the end of the night, Cassidy had fully accepted Ryley, Ryley’s performance during Orientation and during that dinner convincing her that even though the packaging was different, they were the same. Sophie had been thrilled when Cassidy had hugged Ryley at the end of the night. Zeke had been oblivious. Indeed, the drunker he got, the more oblivious he was, talking over every girl repeatedly through the course of the night. To his credit, he had shut up when Cassidy began talking over him.
As Ryley passed Zeke now, she gave him a soft, “Good luck,” seeing his hands shake slightly in the process of putting
his name placard at the front of his desk. Students all around her made beelines for their supposed seats, trying to match the seat map they’d memorized beforehand to the actual seating arrangement of the classroom. The classroom seats were fixed into four rows, each row of seats attached to an unbroken ribbon-like desk. The rows progressively increased in semi-circular length, combining to form a rainbow oriented around the pulpit from which the professor preached.
Ryley found her seat easily enough, located as it was in the back row closest to the door, and just as she was settling in, the professor entered, his six-five stature imposing. The air hummed with nervous energy as each student did their best to appear well-situated and composed for the man. He carried a giant white poster board under one arm with students’ pixelated, bug-eyed faces printed out and stuck in squares mimicking the arrangement of seats around the classroom.
After placing the poster board down on the podium and neatly folding his black suit jacket over a chair at the front of the classroom, possibly put there for just that purpose, he launched into lecture. He was of the old-fashioned generation, his antiquated wire-frame spectacles and suspenders on display as he imperiously stalked back and forth in front of them.
He did not bother with a warm-up or an introductory hello and instead called on Zeke not even two minutes into his lecture. “Mr. Smith, please lay out exactly what Pierson and Post were quibbling about.”
Zeke responded in a deliberately measured tone. “Well, interestingly, although it may have seemed to be about a fox, it was actually about who would control common resources—landed wealth or commercial wealth.”
Professor Kilmer looked at him, unimpressed. “I asked you to lay out the facts of the case as presented on the page, not lay out your hypothesis on what you think is happening.”
Zeke’s cheeks flushed a vibrant red, but he immediately recovered, delivering the facts quickly and concisely.
Professor Kilmer, appeased, moved onto his next target and Ryley began to breathe normally again, her hands unclenching and her shoulders coming down from where they’d been drawn up to her ears. He didn’t linger on anyone longer than a minute.
When he inevitably asked, “Ms. Agarwal, what did Fleta and Bracton think?” Ryley only felt her heartbeat jack-rabbit up at half-speed, staying at fifty miles per hour rather than the hundred it had reached in the past.
Her voice only slightly trembling, she said, “That pursuit alone is not enough to create property rights. That actual possession is necessary.”
He gave her a quick, neutral nod and then moved on. She was pleased, thankful she’d gotten that question. One of her greatest strengths was remembering unimportant side details like the one for which he’d just asked. Doing a quick skim around the room, she saw Sophie and Cassidy shoot her a quick smile. Zeke was taking notes.
Basic duty done, Ryley found herself only half-listening as the class continued. She could see she didn’t quite get the more theoretical hypotheticals when the answer couldn’t simply be found in the pages of the textbook; however, when he asked questions like that, most students’ answers only seemed to be in the general realm of right. He always had a clarifying follow-up; she was fine. She was more focused on doing her teenage years right this time; law school was the perfect do-over with its small, high school class size and set-up. She’d be sharing all her classes this semester with the same eighty people in her Section and there were only seven Sections total per class year. She was sure she’d recognize everyone by face, if not name, by the time she graduated.
As she let her mind slightly meander, she was careful to not let her eyes drift too much from the face of the professor. She’d never quite been able to break herself of the deep respect for authority her parents had instilled in her; being too obvious a space cadet would be rude. Finally, inevitably, the professor began wrapping up, and her neighbor couldn’t help but breathe out the giant sigh of relief that Ryley felt within. They’d made it through their first class alive, no one’s reputation in shreds. Law school was going great!
* * *
Ryley nestled into the crimson leather couch down the hall from her classroom, happy it was Friday. She was tired of being at attention and a section-mate, Ali, had already posted an open invite to her party that weekend in the Section GroupMe, so she wasn’t particularly bothered to be sociable in the hectic period right before class started. Instead, she was content flipping through playlists on her phone. She was trying to discover a song that perfectly captured, in retrospect, her feelings about the first day of law school. She liked documenting major events of her life by song and had song choices picked out for things: the first time she had sex (“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day); high school graduation (“Send Me on My Way” by Rusted Root); first day of college (“Fall into Place” by Apartment); and twenty-first Birthday (“Die Young” by Kesha).
She didn’t bother looking up from her phone when she felt someone plop down next to her, shaking the couch in the process. Her headphones were very visible, effectively functioning as a giant Do Not Disturb sign plastered on her forehead. However, a giant hand was unabashedly thrust in front of her phone screen, and she was forced to reluctantly tear herself away from the device. She was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a warm, relaxed smile from a man she had previously noted was incredibly cute; he was alabaster pale with wide-set blue eyes, large, friendly lips, neatly styled hair, and heavy-set yet carefully groomed eyebrows. They’d said hi a couple of times in passing, but he was always off in a rush somewhere.
“Hey, I’m Mark. I like your maroon sweater.”
Looking down at his outfit, she saw he too was wearing a maroon V-neck sweater, though tight enough she could just make out the definition of his abs. “Hey. My name’s Ryley. I like yours.”
“Thanks! This is my lucky sweater.” He gave her an exaggerated wink.
She smiled, even though she couldn’t control her blush and the automatic way she looked down, embarrassingly uncomfortable with any mention of or allusion to sex. After a slight pause, she said, “Anyway, glad you’re also wearing a sweater. I wasn’t sure if it was too soon to bring one out, but I love fall clothes, so I went for it.”
“I say so long as you look good, wear whatever you want.” He paused to carefully study her sweater once more and then continued, “That sweater really brings out your skin’s undertones. I bet you look dazzling in reds, dark blues, and greens.”
She could speak clothes all day. “Literally the colors of my wardrobe. And of course, black.”
As she finished speaking, he grabbed the hand she’d been unconsciously gesturing with for emphasis. “Oh, look, you even coordinated your ring to match your outfit.”
She actually hadn’t meant to, but she pretended intentionality, basking in his attention while gifting him a smug smile and a half-raised shoulder. He intertwined their hands together as he admired her ring, and although she normally didn’t like it when people she didn’t know touched her, the casual, nonchalant manner in which he did it soothed her.
“Maybe I should send you a picture of my outfit every morning, so you can match to me every day.” She flirted safely, knowing without a doubt that he would never be interested in her romantically.
“Please do. Give me your phone and I’ll type in my number.” After he added himself to her contacts, saving his name with a heart emoji next to it, he said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
She refrained from rolling her eyes; she had been in need of a cheesy friend.
The rest of the day passed in a blur as she floated in a little bubble of bliss, pleased to have so easily added to her growing collection of friends. Finally arriving home to her quaint one-bedroom apartment, she sprawled onto her black futon couch. The living room was minimally decorated with no paintings or personality to speak of, empty but for a practical wooden coffee table, a desk, the couch, and a black steel-frame bookcase. Feeling unstoppable, she decided to pull up Hinge, her
preferred (or alternatively, only) dating app. She never quite enjoyed being on it, but she felt like she was getting left behind whenever she went for too long without using it. Accordingly, she was naturally delighted to see the number of men who’d “liked” her profile once she opened up the app. She’d only changed the city that morning as an afterthought, expecting to get a handful of “likes” that would give her a general sense of the dating scene.
She’d not dated much in the last couple of years, aside from a hook up here and there, and she could rarely stand to see the guy again after they’d been intimate, feeling entirely unconnected. The boys with whom she’d match in DC were also as uninterested in something serious and would leave similarly desultory messages, lacking in any sort of real enthusiasm. Perhaps, though, she could change things here and seriously try to date. It was about time she grew up and played the part of protagonist, the glossy model sitting center cover and not the character set to the side.
After getting through a decent number of profiles, she decided to take a break and give her mother a call. It had been two whole days since they’d last talked and Ryley knew her mother must be missing her. Who wouldn’t enjoy talking about Ryley’s life and problems ad nauseum? She wouldn’t deny her mom the joy of hearing about her little cherub now.
“Hi, beta. How are you?” Ryley’s mom must be at home; she wouldn’t have used the Hindi term for darling outside.
“Good, good. Great day today.” Ryley bounced her small stuffed turtle between her hands as she talked on speaker phone. Her mom had gotten the turtle for her as a gift, saying it reminded her of Ryley. Ryley wasn’t exactly flattered, but she supposed there were worse things to be called.
“You’ve been having quite a few good days lately.” Her mom paused, as if to let Ryley recognize that things were going well for her and she could retire one of the ten angsty playlists she had on shuffle. Her mom continued, almost hesitantly, “Did you end up getting all your readings done, then?”
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