My backstory doesn’t help, but at some point, you just have to move on. That’s why I’m here, after all.
“What can I get you?” says the guy in the truck. He staring. I pull my hat a little lower.
“One hot chocolate, please.”
He smiles, making no move to get my order. “You must be a freshman. I’m sure I would have noticed you.”
“Yes. I just arrived.” After three days on a Greyhound bus, but I don’t bother with the details.
He pours cocoa into a cardboard cup. “I’m Mason.”
“Hi, Mason.”
I don’t offer my name in return. There’s a line behind me and I really just want to get my drink so I can go and find my dorm. But Mason takes his time. “And you are?”
I relent. “Millie.”
“Millie,” he repeats. “I like that name.”
“It’s sort of old-fashioned, but it works.”
His gaze roves across my face, taking its time. “Hey, there’s a party at my place tonight. You should come.” He scrawls a number on a napkin and hands it to me, along with my cup of hot chocolate. “Give me a call.”
“I’ll see. Thanks.” I hand him my money card.
“It’s on the house,” he says. “Really. You should come. It’ll be fun. I can pick you up if you need a ride.”
“Hey, man,” says a guy behind me in line. “How about stop trying to pick up the freshman and make us some coffee instead?”
I take that as my cue. “Thanks, Mason.”
“See you tonight, hopefully,” Mason calls after me, but I let myself drift into the crowd. I already know I’m not going to Mason’s party. I’m not really the party-going type. Besides, I don’t have time. Part of being able to afford college came from the advance money for a book I wrote last year, when I was going through the worst of … the worst. By some miracle, I landed a literary agent, who got me a two-book deal with a major publisher. They said my writing was “heartfelt,” which is true enough. The money isn’t a huge amount, but it meant I could afford to start college this year, instead of waiting another year or two to save. I have no idea how I’ll finish the second book by their deadline of January first, but I guess I’ll figure it out. That, along with the full course load I’ll be taking, means I’ll basically be living in the library for the entire first semester.
I check my map, pretending I feel confident and ready to take my new world by storm. At least if I look like I know what I’m doing, people might actually think I do.
There’s a band playing a Fleetwood Mac song in the middle of the green. Nearby, some guys are throwing a football around.
The sky is blue, with only a few high, wispy clouds. It’s late afternoon. The leafy trees are vibrant shades of red and orange, with an artful smattering sprinkled across the green grass. Autumn, like I’ve only seen it in movies. Everything’s so colorful and … collegiate. Preppies, jocks, hipsters and academics are mingling, all wearing splashes of the same school colors.
Nearby, a cluster of girls are eyeing up the football jocks. These are the kinds of girls who used to make my life hell in high school. The social media-obsessed types who spend hours making sure their selfies are envy-worthy. They hate people like me: people with problems they don’t want touching them and their shiny lives. Loners, who—God knows why, since I avidly try to avoid it—take attention away from them. And it’s always the kind of attention I wish I wasn’t getting.
I do my best to avoid them. Maybe things will be different in college.
I’m mortified when one of the jocks calls out to me and starts walking over to me. He’s huge, and built like a Marvel character.
I try to steer clear but he blocks my way, so I’m forced to stop.
“Hey,” he says. He’s literally towering over me. I have no doubt he could break me in half if he wanted to. It’s intimidating. “Are you a freshman?”
I just had this conversation, and I really don’t feel like having it again. I’m not good at small talk. “Yes. And I’m on my way to my dorm, if you’ll excuse me.”
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says.
I don’t know how to reply to that so I step around him and keep walking but he walks along with me.
He’s persistent. “Where’re you from?”
I don’t want to chit-chat with this oversized stranger. “A very small town I’m sure you’ve never heard of.”
“Try me.” He’s sort of sweaty and bulging and it’s freaking me out.
So I hurry past him. “I’m sorry but I’m meeting someone and I’m late. It was nice talking to you.”
“You and me should get together sometime,” he says.
That’s not going to happen in this lifetime or the next twelve, I don’t bother saying. I keep walking, hoping I’m heading in the right direction.
“I’ll look out for you,” the jock calls after me.
Luckily, unless he likes to hang out in hidden corners of the library, he’ll never find me.
My dorm isn’t far. It’s full of people carrying boxes and saying goodbye to their parents. A pang of something that’s not quite sadness and not quite jealousy flutters, but I let it go. It doesn’t matter anymore, that I’m alone. These people are starting their new lives, too, just like I am. Some are already partying. I slide past them and make my way up to the third floor.
My roommate is there, sitting on the bed next to the window that has a view out over the green. She’s going through an open suitcase and she looks up when I walk in. She has long hair the color of polished copper and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Her face lights up, like she’s genuinely happy to see me. “Hey, roomie. I’m Violet.”
I smile back at her. It’s impossible not to. She’s fun, and nice, you just get that impression. “Millie.”
“Hi, Millie. I hope you don’t mind me claiming the bed next to the window,” she says. “And the bigger closet. Your desk is bigger, though. And you have an extra bookshelf.”
“No, that’s fine.”
“I saw you talking to that football player and his groupies,” she says.
“You saw that?”
“I was feeling your pain.” She laughs. “Those girls’ faces when they saw it was you and not them he was chasing after.”
“Well, they can have him. I hope I haven’t already made a few enemies.”
“Those girls will be fine as long as you stay away from the football team.”
“You know them?”
“I know their type.” She sets a picture of her family on her bedside table. She has a lot of brothers, it looks like. “My brother was the quarterback at my high school in Wilmington. My other brother was a wide receiver. And my other brother was a halfback. We had girls like that camping out on our doorstep every night of the week.”