again and go outside. I’ve forgotten how much I missed New York at night. Even the stores that have their shutters pulled down for the night still have their signs lit. People are walking down the sidewalk in groups, laughing. I’m going to miss this next semester.
There’s a deli at the end of the block. We pick out ice cream and crackers and peanut M&Ms. At the counter, Carroll asks the clerk for a box of condoms.
I laugh. “What, you think you’re getting lucky tonight?”
“You never know who you’ll meet at breakfast,” he says, all mysterious.
We stop by Carroll’s room so he can drop off his stuff. Juan’s honking snores are so loud we can hear him from the hallway. This sends me into a giggle fit.
“Shh,” Carroll whispers. “I don’t need to give him any more reasons to hate me.”
“Why do you think he hates you?” I ask on the walk back to my room.
“He’s a jock. Jocks always hate me.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s in the jock DNA. It’s like, jocks are born with a fear of falling, a taste for Pabst Blue Ribbon and a powerful hatred of Carroll Ostrowski.”
I laugh and push open my door. The light is out. Strange—it was on when we left.
Then I see a dark shape on one of the beds.
“Crap! She’s alive!” Carroll stage-whispers behind me.
“Shh!”
Wow. I’d forgotten I even had a roommate.
“Mom? Is that you?” the lump on the bed mutters.
Carroll loses it.
I shove him back out the door before his echoing laughs can wake up Samantha. I grab a blanket out of the nearest open laundry basket, dart out into the hall and lock the door behind us.
“Sorry about that,” Carroll says, but we’re both cracking up now.
We go to the lounge at the end of the hall. It’s not much bigger than my room, but it has a microwave and a TV and a couple of unsanitary-looking couches. I find spoons for our ice cream and Carroll turns on the Food Network. It’s a show about waffles. We sit on the least gross couch and eat ice cream out of the cartons with my blanket spread over our laps.
“It’s like a sleepover,” I say. “We should’ve gotten popcorn.”
“Should we go wake up your roommate and invite her?” he says.
“Only if we get your roommate, too,” I say. “Except then he’d just be honking in here.”
“Yeah, it’s better with just us,” he says.
We watch the waffles bake in silence for a while. Then Carroll asks, “So, what do you do for fun when you’re not eating ice cream and watching the Food Network with your new best friend?”
I laugh. “Back home, you know, the usual. Hanging out, parties. I played volleyball and did debate all through high school.”
“Oh, no, you’re a jock, too,” he says. “Are you playing here?”
“No way. College volleyball is crazy intense. Besides, I was never really a jock. I liked playing, and I guess I was pretty good at it, but it was never my absolute favorite thing. Not like with you and theater.”
“Why do you assume I’m obsessed with theater? Just because I could sing you the entire score of Wicked right now?”
I smack his arm and bounce in my seat. “I used to love that show! I’ve seen it, like, thirty times at the Gershwin. What’s your favorite song? Mine used to be ‘Popular’ but it’s so overdone. I think now I like ‘For Good’ more.”
“What?” Carroll isn’t bouncing with me. “You saw it here in New York? I thought you were from Maryland?”
“I am. Well, my family lives in the DC suburbs now, but I lived in Brooklyn until two years ago.”
He looks pissed. “Wait, you’re from New York? Have you been secretly laughing at me this whole time for being such a tourist?”
“No!” Then I remember. “Okay, yeah, I did a little bit when you got so excited about the deli, but only in the nicest possible way.” I smile and tilt my head on his shoulder. “Come on, you can’t be mad at me. You’re my only friend here!”
“That’s true.” He settles back. I guess everything’s okay now.
We watch the waffle show for a while longer. I’m getting tired. I sink down lower on the couch and pull the blanket up to my chin.
Carroll is quiet for another minute. Then he slides down next to me and pulls the blanket up over our heads. I laugh sleepily. It’s so dark under here, all I can see of his face is his nose and his eyebrows. The reek of cigarette smoke is strong.
Now that it’s quiet, I can’t help thinking about Toni again. About what I did. God. I’m a truly horrible person. I don’t see how I can ever make this right.
“Look,” Carroll says, as if he can hear my thoughts. “We’re in college now. It’s going to be amazing. This’ll be a totally different universe from high school. We’ll have nonstop fun from tomorrow through May. I guarantee you.”
I nod against his shoulder. I think about seeing Toni the day after tomorrow, and how maybe college doesn’t need to be completely different from high school.
“Besides, you know what the most important thing is?” he asks. “The key reason college is going to be so amazing, for you in particular?”
“What?” I say, already smiling because I think I know his answer.
“You have me,” he says, kissing me on the cheek with a loud smack.
SEPTEMBER
FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE
1 WEEK APART
TONI
I dodge an unusually aggressive squirrel as I cross Cambridge Street and take out my phone to text my roommate. I’m going to be late for lunch. Ebony will probably already have eaten and be long gone by the time I get there. Ebony’s on the varsity tennis team and inhales food by the shovelful.
I played tennis in high school, too. I even thought I was good. Until I saw Ebony play.
Ebony is cool, though. Vastly superior to our other roommates. We all moved in a week ago, and right away Ebony and I decided we should share the smaller of the two bedrooms in our suite, and let Felicia and Joanna have the bigger one. We avoid running into them in our shared common room as much as we can. In return, Joanna and Felicia use their alone time to complain about Ebony and me. (We know. You can
