Undecided(5)

“What are you doing on campus?” I ask. “I thought you lived on the Frat Farm.” The short strip of old Victorian homes converted into Burnham frat houses on the west side of campus has more than earned its name, thanks to the wild parties and rumors of crazy behavior that’s more fact than fiction. I should know, since I’d been a frequent flier there last year.

Crosbie speaks around a mouthful of food. “Just working out. They keep the Larson gym open all summer.”

“I thought they had weights at the frat houses.”

“Oh yeah? You spend a lot of time there?”

“No,” I lie. “Just a guess.” Though Crosbie and I were never officially introduced last year, we’d been at a lot of the same parties, and it’s more than a little offensive that he doesn’t remember me.

He stuffs a couple of fries into his mouth. “I’ve got an elliptical and some weights in my room, but it’s not enough. And the gym here’s quiet in the summer, so I like to use it when I can.”

“Makes sense.”

“You staying on campus?”

“Yeah. I was taking summer courses.”

“Trying to get a leg up, huh?”

Ha. “Yep,” I lie again.

“Kell says you’re moving in.”

I hesitate. I already know it’s true, but hearing it from someone else feels weird. Like it’s more true, more permanent, more wrong, somehow. Like how you know streaking down Main Street is a bad idea, but hearing your parents say “You ran naked down Main Street, Nora!?” makes it sound even worse.

“September third.”

“Should be interesting.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugs. “It means, Kellan’s got good intentions about being a model student this year, but I don’t think it’ll happen. And something tells me you’re the kind of girl that doesn’t want to be corrupted.”

I nearly choke on my burger. “Corrupted?”

“Yeah. You ever go to a party? Get drunk? Mess around? That’s what Kellan’s into—hell, you’ve got your nose buried in a book, but even you must know that. I just think maybe you’re going to be…scandalized a little bit this year. It’s why I said you had the wrong address. So you didn’t make a mistake.”

I try to keep a straight face. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

He points at me with a fry. “I see you’re not taking this seriously. I’m just saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“What would I be hoping for, Crosbie?”

He grins. “What every girl hopes for. Happily ever after with Kellan McVey.”

“I’m just trying to graduate.”

“Same here,” he replies, distracted by a commotion over my shoulder. “But sometimes…we get a little off track.”

“Hi, Crosbie!” A gaggle of girls dressed in tiny summer dresses and heels totters past, each shooting Crosbie their most endearing smile.

He gives them a nod. “Ladies.”

“Join us?” one asks, as though I’m invisible and Crosbie’s dining alone. Seems to be the theme for today.

“Sure thing,” he answers, watching them giggle and make their way to a corner booth.

“You just went off track pretty easily.”

He laughs and swipes one of my fries, since his are gone. “I’ll get back on track tomorrow. Nice talking to you, Nora.”

“Yes,” I agree. “It’s been fantastic.”



*



Most people hate moving, but for me it’s really no big deal. All of my earthly possessions fit into a pair of large duffel bags and two pilfered milk crates, all of which I strap to my bicycle and painstakingly wheel over to Fir Street the day before Labor Day.

It’s strange to see Burnham bustling again after it was a virtual dead zone all summer, but today is the official first day of move-ins, and campus is buzzing with new and returning students. Everywhere I look there are tearful parents and anxious sophomores, everyone doing their best to put on brave faces. Frosh leaders wear obnoxious neon Tshirts and carry megaphones, rallying their nervous young troops with promises of the best years of their lives.

I keep my head down and maneuver my unwieldy load through the crowds, breathing a sigh of relief when I make it to the shady pathways that wind around the edge of campus. It’s quieter here, the canopy of old trees dotting the pavement with light and shade. The sun found its way back to Oregon and it’s warmer than it has been, enough so that even in jeans and a tank top, I’m sweating when I reach the apartment.

I pause on the sidewalk and take in my new home. The apartments are more like tiny townhouses, each with a door that opens onto a tiny front lawn. They have red brick faces, green doors, and a single window on the second level. It’s…homey.

The home I’ll be sharing with Kellan McVey.

The front door bursts open and Kellan and Crosbie elbow each other as they stumble out, dressed in sneakers, shorts, and matching Burnham Track Tshirts. They stop when they see me, and I smile uncomfortably and wheel my bike up the short path to the front door.

“You got more?” Kellan asks, taking in my load.

“This is it.”

“That’s it?” Crosbie looks perplexed. “Where’s your bed? Your desk?”