“What’s it take to join?”
Yara’s grin widened. “So, you’re actually interested? No pressure, of course. You can let me off easy. I’ve been working on not taking rejection too personally.”
“Very interested. I have a ton of free time, so I want to put it to good use,” I explained. “Plus, I didn’t know where half the buildings were at my last school so I don’t want to feel that same disconnect here.”
“Oh, no.” Her eyes softened. “I’m glad I met you tonight. If you want, I could be your tour guide for the semester. Feeling like you’re out of the loop is hard. I won’t pretend like I know what’s always going on — I’m more of a library on the weekends kind of person. But I do know how to find the best campus events.”
I smiled, grateful for her willingness to take me under her wing. Because yes, being new sucked. Especially when you were technically a freshman but not really. I wasn’t staying in the dorms and taking part in new student activities.
Yara changed the subject by asking, “Can I guess what you’re studying? I’m pretty good at this… My aunt is a psychic and my friend’s teaching me how to palm read.”
I smiled, amused. “Go for it.”
“Your palm?” Yara requested.
“Oh, of course.” I laughed and offered her my outstretched hand.
Yara’s thin fingers traced the brown lines on my hand. It didn’t take her long to come up with, “Biology.”
“Why do you say that?”
She frowned. “I’m wrong?”
Very much. “A bit.”
“One more try.” She stared hard at my palm again, as if the answer would etch itself onto my skin.
“Ethnobotany,” she decided.
I snorted. “Girl, what?”
“I give up.” She laughed along with me.
“What is ethno… you know, anyway?”
“No idea. I saw it in the course catalog one year and wondered if I’d ever come across someone who chose it as a major. Always thought a conversation with them could be interesting, so I have high hopes anytime I meet someone new.”
“Film studies,” I told her after our laughter died down.
“That’s cool. Want to be in front or behind the camera?”
“A little of both.”
I tilted my head to the side, thinking about it. The older I got, the more into documenting I became. I enjoyed following my family around with a camera and sitting them down for mock interviews. But I also liked turning the lens to myself occasionally.
Being in front of a camera throughout my teen years helped me get more comfortable with my body. Editing clips of myself through growing pains made me appreciate how fast things changed. Every version of myself seemed softer and kinder, despite everything about growing up feeling rougher and harder.
“Working on anything now?” Yara stretched out her leg, testing her ankle. By the look on her face, I knew the movement resulted in only regret. “I’m president of a women’s org on campus called Black Women Development Club, and we could use a videographer for some of our events. We actually have a budget this semester, so we could pay you for your time.”
“I’m in between projects right now.” I perked up at the mention of filming for her. This could be a perfect way to force me to pick up my camera. “I’d be down to film anytime.”
She clapped her hands. “Thank you, thank you. My executive board’s going to be thrilled to have you.”
“Can’t wait.” I grinned back, catching some of her enthusiasm.
Like Yara promised, the results of the game were posted early the next morning, before the sun even came up. I found the post while following my dad into the underground section of the football stadium. Kevin’s team won in an unsurprising landslide. I scrolled through the comments, laughing to myself at some of the heated things people were saying. They were taking things so seriously.
“Emmy?” my dad called.
