I pat myself on my back for keeping it real.
Snort. God, I’m such a dork.
Chapter Three
The second I step into the house, I’m swarmed. Not by locusts, even though it feels a little like that. No, this is a swarm of roommates. Roommates who got wind of a certain late-night call.
Thanks, Patsy.
“Quinn,” someone yells from the living room. “Get your ass in here and tell us about the hot Brits.”
Placing my bookbag on the floor, I walk slowly down the short hallway into the main living space. It’s like walking into a living room from a 60s sitcom. There’s an ancient stereo cabinet circa 1965, two old sofas, and three chairs from the same era. The only oddball is the flat screen TV. When I turn my head, I see Patsy point to the seat next to her on the long olive-green couch. “Sit here,” she says.
I blow a gust of air out of my mouth and walk, shoulders slumped, over to the seat. I’m starving. All I want to do is make some ramen and get mentally prepared to study for my art history class. That class is all memorization of art, artists, dates, and genres. This could be a good way to bond with the other women in the house.
Once I’m seated, I look at the ladies. I quickly count six. There’s one extra person in attendance. “Hey,” I say to everyone.
“Quinn,” says Patsy in an extra-perky voice. “Start at the very beginning.” She turns to the rest of the girls. “Everyone keep your trap shut until she’s done. Then she’ll take questions. Got it?”
I want to laugh at the way she’s taken control of this… whatever this is. Interrogation? Inquisition? Yeah, that sounds about right.
“Well, I was in my room.” Duh. “I’d been watching something on Netflix, so—”
“What were you watching?” That question came from Susanna, Patsy’s little sister.
“I said no questions until she’s done,” snaps Patsy.
Susanna must be used to her sister’s ways, because she snaps right back, “Jesus. Who died and made you boss?”
“Me,” Patsy retorts.
Okay, then.
“I was watchingDead to Me.”
Before I can get another word out, Kat, another roommate interrupts. “Oh my God. Isn’t that show great?”
I chuckle because this is going to take fucking forever if they keep interrupting me, but I find it funny nonetheless. “It is.”
“What’s it about?” asks Susanna.
“For crying out loud,” shouts Patsy. “Shut the hell up and let her tell the frigging story.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, loudly. It must be contagious, because when I look at the other ladies, everyone is laughing—even Pats.
Without being told, I keep going. “I must have fallen asleep because—”
“The show must not have beenthatgood.” I’m not sure who said it because it sounds like it was mumbled.
“I swear on all that is holy, I will punch the next person who interrupts in the tit. Hard. You hear me?” Patsy huffs.
That’s all it takes for the laughs to start again. I’m laughing so hard that tears are running down my face, and I may have peed a little bit. When I get myself under control, I start again, but faster this time. “Ifellasleepwhilewatchingtheshow.” Breathe. “Theringingwokemeup.” Breathe. When no one says a word, I slow it down. “I assumed it was my best friend, Tayler.” Even though she just lives across town, she calls me at all hours of the night. “I reached out and tapped the Answer icon, and they appeared.”
I watch as Susanna and Robbi, my fourth roommate, scoot closer. They’re getting into this.
“It took a second for the screen to open up, but when it did, I had to blink a million times.”
“Why?” Robbi asks.
