“Are you joking? I was the one that told you about it.”
“That was Miranda.”
“No, it was me,” he says, pulling out his supplies from his backpack. “I told Miranda and you about it last semester. Remember,” he bumps my elbow, “everyone on the hockey team takes this class for an easy A and to fulfill the science requirement.”
I think I do remember him telling us about this class last year while I was over at their house. Must have slipped my memory because I’m pretty sure he was shirtless.
I crunch my nose at him, narrowing my eyes and flashing him my best angry face, “You’re right. I hate when you’re right and I’m wrong.”
He cups his hand around his ear and leans slightly in my direction. “What was that? Can you say that louder please? Did you say I was right and you were wrong?”
I can’t help but smile when I roll my eyes. “Don’t get used to it, bucko.”
Will barks out a laugh before he lowers his voice, “Did you just call me bucko? Why was that weirdly offensive?”
“Yeah, I did. What’re you gonna do about it,bucko?”
“That’s it, I’m leaving,” he whispers while pretending to stuff about a hundred things into his backpack. We’re both laughing when the professor turns on her mic and starts class from the podium. Today is like most syllabus days and goes by pretty quick with nothing out of the ordinary being discussed. I’m happy to find this class will be easy for me: no graded assignments, just a quiz once a week and a final exam. I’mexcited—I’m an excellent test taker. As long as I take good notes during class I probably won’t need to study much.
“I’m meeting Miranda at Serendipity in, like, forty five, you wanna come?” I ask Will on our way out of the lecture hall.
Serendipity is our (my) favorite cafe. It's this eclectic bookstore, cafe, coffee shop combo that has a certain cool girl vibe that I’m into. Pretty much everyone else likes it, but doesn’t love it the way I do.
Will and I spend the entire walk to Serendipity complaining about the heat and humidity. We arrive about twenty minutes before I’m supposed to meet Miranda so Will and I grab a table.
Inside, the sounds of lightly clattering dishes, a milk steamer, and the griddle wash over me and feel comfortable, routine. I come here several times a week. This place feels comfortable and safe. It's also one of the only places I know I’ll never run into Carter, which is a huge plus. He hated how they serve the food and drinks in old mismatched dishes from thrift stores. He used to make faces and mutter under his breath about how grossed out he was. He once refused to eat his bagel sandwich because the plate was chipped and he was convinced that proved the plates were dirty.
Luckily, neither Will nor Miranda complain about coming here, but I know the scene is not really their thing. Serendipity hosts poetry readings, book clubs (I used to attend every Tuesday), and artist meet and greets. Will once described this place as a cafe for “indie art hoes.” I couldn’t agree more.
Will waits in line to put in our order while I wait at the table for them both.
Miranda arrives in a cloud of tropical sunscreen and a white Bramwood U golf dress and visor. She is on the Bramwood women’s golf team and nationally ranked. Apparently Lucy,their mom, was growing super athlete babies in her womb with the two of them.
Will arrives moments later with a number for our table and tells us he ordered the usual for both me and Miranda. After they both take a seat, she leans forward over the table, lowering her voice, “So tell me everything.”
I glance toward Will then drop my forehead to the edge of the table. Will clears his throat next to me and says nothing, a gesture I’m thankful for. I can feel both their eyes on me and I wish the earth would rip open and swallow me whole.
“Oh no, it was bad? Don’t tell me it was bad. Adrian’s way too hot for it to be bad,” she says. I lift my head up from the table and send her a look.
She asks again, “What happened?” She glances from me to Will, “Wait, what happened? Do you know?” she asks Will.
From the corner of my eye I can see him shrug.
“I told him to go get me a drink knowing that he’d go inside and not come back out, then I smoked weed with Claire and went home. It was a total failure of a night.”
“So the night went a little tits up, that’s okay.”
The server walks over with our drinks and food, saving me from having to give any more details about my inability to be like how I used to be. Old Kennedy would have had Adrian eating out of the palm of her hand in five minutes flat. The server sets down two sandwiches in front of Will which should not surprise me but does.
Miranda looks between Will and I over the rim of her coffee. “Two sandwiches, Will? Really?”
He pats his belly, “I’m a growing boy.” He takes a monster bite of his first sandwich and Miranda reaches out to tug on my wrist. I drop my hands from my face and lift my eyes to meet hers. She grabs hold of two of my fingers. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You won’t stop being anxious unless you start doingthings that make you anxious and then see that it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Even the other night wasn’t as bad as you thought, hmm?”
I know I’m being dramatic when I cover my face with my hands again, but this is how I feel: stupid and lame. And I don’t care what Miranda says about it not really being that bad, because to me it sucked. “I hate this version of myself,” I mumble into my palm.
“Stop it,” Miranda scolds, mostly love in her voice, “you’re being extremely dramatic right now. You’re still incredible and amazing. I think you’re overthinking it. You just need to practice putting yourself back out there.” Miranda bites into a fry, “That’s all.”
“I actually agree with Miranda on this one,” Will says.
