“I think at this point it’s a community effort. Just wait till you’re back from Milan.” Marcus says without an ounce of empathy but also not a drop of humor.
It’s like he’s as sick of the posters as I am. That or he’s sick of me.
Without slowing down, he scans his ID and marches towards the trays, but I hesitate. The hockey team is sitting in their usual spot all huddled around each other like hens. Terrence is facing the dining hall entrance, but he hasn’t noticed me yet. Marcus grabs a tray and continues on towards the food, and I realize I’ll get left behind if I don’t follow. The last thing I want right now is to eat alone.
I catch up to Marcus at the pasta bar. “You’re being really weird about Terrence.”
“Look, I apologized to him already. He’s the one giving me the silent treatment, not the other way around!”
He gets a nice helping of baked ziti before moving on, talking like I haven’t said a thing. “He’s your roommate! You sleep next to each other. If he wanted to pummel you, he’d have plenty of opportunities.”
“Counterpoint. The vibes in our room are terrible, and I would like to avoid that in public whenever possible.”
Marcus’ already skinny lips somehow get thinner.
I ask, “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing.”
I roll my eyes and groan.
“Nothing! Seriously. You think Terrence talks to me without you in the picture?” He grabs some green jello, the same shade as his scales from the fridges. “I don’t get why you’re so jumpy around him.”
I haven’t grabbed any food, but I follow him to the table anyway. “I don’t want him saying things about me that aren’t true. Not when everyone on campus is suddenly oh-so-interested in me.”
He shrugs. “Fame sucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
The conversation doesn’t slow down as Marcus munches away on pasta. “Full honesty, I also don’t get why you’re so mopey about getting attention. Isn’t that the point of sports?”
I cross my arms. “There are way easier ways to get attention.”
“Yeah, but you wanted this, right?”
My fingers tap my arm, like I’m impatiently awaiting my answer. “I want to be the best at the thing I love doing. I couldn’t care less about random spectators. Which at this point, most people are.”
“I guess…”
He hunches over his lunch tray, now way more interested in his meal than talking to me. So, I take the hint and get up to leave.
“You haven’t eaten anything!” Marcus erupts like a nervous mother. “At least grab an apple or something.”
I roll my eyes but make a loop back to the fruit stand to grab two apples and some packets of peanut butter. The sugar isn’t ideal but Marcus is right, I do need to eat something. On my way out I wave at him with an apple. His attempt at a toothy smile is more of a grimace. Everything is shoved in my hoodie pocket and I trudge back to the dorm.
I much on an apple while catching up on class reading, pausing to smear peanut butter into the grooves of the fruit. I somehow read fifty pages in an hour, but my brain feels as smooth as the peanut butter that’s warmed up since sitting in my hoodie.
I open my laptop for a well-deserved break but somehow end up opening up my email instead.
Dear Susan,
Is it too late for me to defer this semester?
I stare at the shortest email I’ve ever written the same way I stare at my poems I don’t vibe with, hopeful that with enough patience and re-reads, something will click. I never get the courage to actually send the email, opting to shut my laptop.
Terrence is at hockey practice, otherwise I wouldn’t even be in the dorm. I’ve decided to make myself scarce whenever possible, seeing as Terrence had a week of bliss without me already, and I’ll be gone again in a few weeks. Though with all the pictures of me plastered around campus maybe it feels like I haven’t been gone at all.
I’m still catching up on the first week of missed assignments, but my brain can’t process schoolwork, my friends won’t talk to me, and whenever I think about what I’m going to do for my free program, I start wishing I could focus on schoolwork. I open my desk drawer to look for a notepad, wondering if maybe analogue work will do the trick. I stop short when I find the key to the campus ice rink sitting atop a notepad.
