Leaving the door open, I stalk back over to the couch. I notice a pair of zebra-striped socks first, then folded legs. And then a tousled bun, and a few loose strands of hair falling over closed eyes.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I groan. “Seriously?”
I cross my arms over my chest. She’s asleep. Again! Onmyfucking couch! If she wasn’t so distant and evasive the rest of the time, I’d swear she was doing it on purpose. All I have to do is give her a gentle shake to wake her up, but I can’t muster up the will.
“Okay…” I sigh. I turn to shut the front door. “Here we go again. Night two.” I raise my eyes to the heavens. “Someone better be keeping count: I’ve done my good deeds for the next two years.”
4LOIS
I don’t need to open my eyes to know where I am. That’s progress from yesterday, I guess, but I still feel a crushing shame pinning me down to the couch. The couch I’ve taken over again, like some kind of parasite.A damn cockroach, that’s what I’ve been reduced to.
I jump to my feet, plumping the pillows to erase any sign that I was here, and tiptoe over to the kitchen sink. I don’t want to wake him up… the guy who lives here. The guy whose name I don’t even know.
Today is the day I solve my housing problem. The motel is my plan B, and sure, just the thought of it sends my anxiety through the roof, but at least it’s something.
I splash a little water on my face and eye the coffee maker, but I don’t want to run into that Campus Driver and have him think I’m making myself at home.
It takes me less than a minute to change into a fresh T-shirt and scrape my hair up into a ponytail. Seeing my bag, I remember my most pressing issue: The rest of my stuff is in his trunk. I don’t have a choice, I’ll need to see him again at least once so I can collect my things. This bag here is small and light, so I swing it over my shoulder and creep my way to the front door, pulling it shut softly behind me. I take a deep breath in. The elevator has probably been fixed, but I gofor the stairs. You never know: I might run into Kirk in the hallway, and that way I can beg him to reconsider—who cares if I look like a desperate loser.
In the end, I make it out to the sidewalk without a glimpse of him. Luck is definitely not on my side: I bump into Ms. Curtis instead, sweeping the first floor, ranting and raving with every fresh inch of tile exposed.
I head over to the bus stop at the corner of the street, and although the public transportation here is terrible, I manage to catch the one bus of the morning.
“Maybe I’m not so unlucky after all,” I mutter to myself as I fall back into one of the frayed blue seats.
Talk about tempting fate. The bus breaks down just one measly mile before campus. I follow the annoyed passengers filing out, offering the driver a small “sorry,” as if my bad luck was all to blame.
When I finally make it to campus, the strap of my bag is digging into my shoulder and I’m tilting to one side. Yup, this is me: homeless, soaked through with sweat, and halfway to becoming a hunchback. What a catch.
If yesterday was shitty, today looks set to be just as bad. Once orientation wraps up and the department rattles off our lab group assignments, I wander down the college hallways, searching the crowds for Kirk, my heart skipping a beat every time I see a flash of blond hair. I don’t know whether he’s avoiding me or whether I’m just the worst sleuth ever, but I haven’t seen him once, even when I walked around the dentistry department, doing my best to look casual.
I’m still holding out for a glimpse of him this morning, but right now, I’m stepping into the secretary’s office for the second time and joining the line. When it’s finally my turn, my throat is dry, the skin around my nails is bleeding.
“Morning!”
I look up at the administrator and force myself to smile back. I hate everybody this morning, especially people who look happy. Thewoman from yesterday looked half asleep and sniffled just as much as me, and I find myself missing her. But if I want a room, I’m going to have to make an effort.
“Good morning, Mrs….” I check the little name card pinned to the counter. “Singleton.”
I mop my forehead with the back of my hand and drop my bag at my feet.
“I need a dorm room,” I offer in response to her inquisitive stare.
She raises her powdered eyebrows. “Last name, first name, major, and year.”
“Lois Hogan, sports physiotherapy, freshman.”
I wince at the words, but the administrator is peering at her screen and doesn’t notice. My family members are all sports buffs, and although I love sports just as much, deep down I know I chose this major because of Kirk. He’s just joined the college basketball team, and the sports PT students get up close and personal with the athletes. The Cardinals are heroes around these parts, and everyone is expected to wait on them hand and foot.
Singleton pouts. “It says here that you came by yesterday. It’s just as my colleague told you: We’ve been full since March, I’ve got a waiting list as long as my arm, and some students haven’t even arrived yet. We’ve already got you down right here. You’re twenty-seventh on the list.”
She gives me a bored smile, and I screw my eyes shut so as not to break down in front of her.
“There’s really no point in coming in every morning, Ms. Hogan. If a room becomes available, we’ll be sure to let you know.”
I gnaw at the inside of my cheek. “What are my chances?”
“Rooms mostly free up in the second semester. Between now and Christmas, I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
