by Sandy Hall
Now that’s never going to happen because of Hillary’s existence.
I didn’t know I could hate the name Hillary quite this much. I am seething with almost as much rage as Victor experiences in this classroom on a daily basis.
I look at Lea sympathetically and she smiles back, her usual smile. This is not over though between Hillary and me. She has poked the bear.
Sam (Gabe’s brother)
I’m about to leave the student center when I notice Gabe hiding in the corner in the back, almost out of sight behind the stairs. Our mom keeps bugging me to keep an eye on him, even though I keep telling her that he’s fine.
I sit down opposite him. “I didn’t even realize there were seats back here.”
He doesn’t seem to notice, so I knock on the table and he startles, pulling out his earbuds and looking over at me.
“Hey,” he says. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Shocker. I was just saying that I didn’t even know there were seats back here.”
He looks around like he had no idea where he was sitting. “I think they must have added them recently. I like it though. Out of the way.”
I nod. “How’s it going?”
“All right.”
“What are you up to?”
“I’m supposed to meet up with my creative writing critique partner.”
“Are you working with that chick Lea?”
“Nah, with the most annoying girl in the world. I wish it was Lea.” And from the face he’s making I believe him. Unfortunately, the older brother in me rears its ugly head.
“So you do like her!”
He rolls his eyes.
“Have you talked to her yet?”
“No.”
“I talked to her the other day.”
That gets his attention. “What? What did you say to her, Sam?”
“Nothing, I swear!” I hold up my hands in surrender.
He glares at me. “You promise you weren’t an ass?”
“Promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We’ve come to a stalemate, but I decide to proceed anyway.
“You should talk to her. She’s nice.”
He shrugs.
“Come on, man, why not?”
“You know why,” he says. And I do know why, but it seems to me that all of his issues are kind of dumb, and I’m allowed to think that because I’m his brother. “Let’s talk about something else, anything else.”
“How’s the life of an academic residence mentor, or whatever word-salad title you have?”
“It’s not easy. I had this girl come see me crying the other night about her calc class. I’ve never taken calc; precalc was more than enough for me. So I kind of had no advice to give her.”
“That’s tough.”
“It is. I feel bad for the kids because they kind of got me by default, you know? If I hadn’t lost my scholarship they would have someone more useful.”
“I’m pretty sure the school wouldn’t have given you this title if they thought you were useless.”
“And I’m pretty sure the school gave me the position because they felt bad for me.”
“But still,” I say, trying to grasp for something, anything, to pull him out of this spiral of self-pity that I can sense brewing. “You have a single.”
He chuckles at that. “Very true.”
“Having a single sounds kind of amazing.”
He looks at me with his eyebrows raised.
“It’s been a long three years of Casey farting in his sleep.”
Gabe laughs at that.
“Want to give me a swipe to the dining hall?” I ask, realizing that I haven’t eaten in like a thousand years and that I have no food in my house.
“Nah, I have to meet up with the most annoying girl in the world, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. How did you get stuck with the most annoying girl in the world?”
He wrinkles his nose. “She asked me to work with her and I had no idea how to say no. I was so shocked that it wasn’t Lea asking that I fell into some kind of fugue state.”
“Why is she so annoying?”
“Well, for starters, she thinks Portugal is in South America.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“That’s tough, dude,” I say.
“Life is tough sometimes,” he says, like a wise old man.
“It is, but—” I stop myself. I look at him, at the way he has books spread all over the table and the crease of concentration in his forehead. “It doesn’t have to be as hard as you make it. And I know you hate when I say it and I might just be … pissing into the wind and I don’t want to start a fight, but you could like, let other people help you with stuff sometimes.”
He stares at me and for a second I think he might cry.
“I know,” he says finally.
“Good, as long as you know.”
“I really do. That’s why I started seeing a therapist.”
“Good for you,” I say, a little surprised. But I knew that my parents had been encouraging him to do just that. Before we can make this a Hallmark moment, I catch sight of a girl whose smile is so broad it has to be fake.
“I’m going to guess that’s your partner,” I say, gesturing with my chin.
“Yes,” he says, shoulders deflating. “Unfortunately.”
I rush out of there then with just a quick wave over my shoulder. I’m not in the mood to meet the most annoying girl on earth.
Frank (Chinese-food delivery guy)
These orders can’t be right. They’re exactly the same items for two different people in two different dorm rooms in the same building. We have to stop letting Lin answer the phone, she can never keep these things straight. She definitely can’t be in charge on Sunday nights anymore, that’s for sure.
I call both rooms anyway. Maybe the one whose order is wrong will take it, or at least they’ll know I’m here and they weren’t ignored. I hate having to turn around and go back to the restaurant, but I suppose it’s all part of the job.
I wait for what seems like a million years, hanging out in the lobby, trying not to look like I’m casing the joint. My phone is blowing up. Seems like everyone wants to go out tonight for some reason, but I have lab at 9 a.m. and there’s no way I’m messing with that. I have an A in that class and I don’t want to lose it.
Finally both elevators slide open, and a girl emerges from one and a guy from the other.
“Delivery?” I say, holding up the bags.
They both walk over, glancing at each other.
“Is it possible you guys ordered the same thing?”
“Sesame noodles with chicken and a side of fried dumplings?” the girl says, looking from me to the kid.
“Yeah,” the kid says, so quietly that it’s like barely a word and more of an exhale.
“Seriously?” I ask.
He nods and she smiles.
“And you’re not together?” I ask, confused. “This has never happened before. It might not seem like a big deal, but I’ve been delivering for my family’s restaurant for six years and it’s literally never happened before.”
“No,” the girl says. Guess she’s the spokesperson tonight. “Not together. But glad we could break some kind of statistical record for you.”
“Cool. Cause I was gonna say you could have ordered the bigger size of dumplings for less money and more dumplings.”
They both smile at that. “More dumplings are never a bad thing,” the girl says.
I hand them their orders and they pay, both of them pretty decent tippers. As I walk out, I look over my shoulder and they’re staring at each other while they wait for the elevator.
Maribel (Lea’s roommate)
Lea practically attacks me as I walk through the door Sunday night after spending the weekend at home.
“I missed you, too,” I say, my hands full of Lea and clean laundry.
“The worst thing happened,” she wails.
“What? Oh my God. What happened?” I steel myself for awful news. I try to run through my head what could possibly be this bad.
“Gabe lives here!”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t know he lived here. All this time! How did I not notice? We always get off at the same bus stop. But I never even thought he lived in this building. I just figured he lived in the general area.”
“You realize this isn’t awful? Close proximity to a crush is not a bad thing.”
“That isn’t the awful thing.”
I sigh, dumping my laundry on the bed. She throws herself on her bed while I start putting things away.
“Tell me your troubles,” I say.
“So, I ordered Chinese,” she starts.
“Did you save me any?”
“There are some leftover dumplings in the minifridge.”
“Yummy.”
She rolls her eyes. “When the delivery guy gets here he buzzes me down, and lo and behold when I get to the lobby, who steps out of the other elevator but Gabe in the flesh.”
“Amazing.”
“I thought so, too,” she agrees. “Of course he doesn’t say anything the whole time the delivery guy is babbling about how we ordered the same exact food and how that never happens. And then the guy asks if we’re together, which is just a little bit embarrassing.”
I make a “so-so” gesture with my hand.
“But then it got way worse.”
“How?”
“We were waiting for the elevator together and kind of looking at each other, or at least glancing over at each other at regular intervals. And I was trying to think of some topic of conversation.…”
“You should have told him how much you liked the essay you critiqued of his in class last week.”
“Yes, that is something a normal person would have said.”
“Oh no. What did the non-normal person say?”
“Well, this idiot looks him in the eye and says, ‘As a Chinese person, I can tell you that you have great taste in Chinese food.’”
“That could be worse,” I say.
“Would you ever in a million years tell someone that you felt as a Mexican person that they have great taste in Mexican food?”
“Well … when you put it that way…”
She pulls the hood of her sweatshirt up and tightens the strings so only her nose pokes out.
“Lea, I’m teasing. It’s really not that bad,” I say, sitting next to her on the bed. “What did he say back?”
She loosens her hood so she can speak. “He just kind of stood there, opening and closing his mouth at me.”
“I mean, it would have been better if you had complimented his essay, but I don’t think all is lost just because you said something mildly weird to him.”
“The first time I finally get up the nerve to talk to him and that’s what I say? I don’t talk like that. That’s not something I would say.”
“You should have complimented his essay and then invited him to eat with you.”
“Why aren’t you always around to coach me in these moments? Why do you leave me floundering alone in the world?”
“I don’t have answers for these questions.”
She squints into the distance. “To be fair, had I asked him up to eat with me, I know it would have been a disaster. There’s no way I could have been cool around him. I would have ended up talking about my family tree or how the plural of ‘cul-de-sac’ is ‘culs-de-sac.’”
“Maybe he would have appreciated that,” I say, rubbing her back.
“I just have to keep reminding myself that I’m not actually blowing my chances. I don’t have to be super cool around him.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
She tightens her hood back up and shakes her head.
Charlotte (a barista)
“Have you seen my perfect honeybunch Gabe lately?” Tabitha asks during a quiet moment. She obviously wants to gossip, and while I don’t want to work, I’m not sure if I’m in the mood to talk about Gabe. “I’ve seen him a couple of times, but not nearly enough, so I thought I could live vicariously through you. If you’ve seen him.”
“You are babbling.”
“He’s just so cute!”
“I think he has something wrong with him,” I say. I don’t want to be too mean about him, mostly because Tabitha is a kind person. You don’t meet kind people like Tabitha all the time and definitely not working at a place like Starbucks. But I don’t want her to get her hopes up.
“No way! He’s adorable.”
“He was in here a couple of weeks ago and he was so out of it that I think he was seriously stoned.”
She shrugs. “I’m not one to judge people’s drug habits.”
“It was ten a.m.”
“Maybe he was sleepy.”
“I had to ask him about forty times what size coffee he wanted.”
“You mumble.”
“Every single time he comes in here, he has trouble answering the simplest questions. The time before that it was Sumatra or Pike Place, the time before that it was whether he wanted his pastry warmed up. I should stop asking questions.”
“He’s just quiet. The past few times I’ve seen him in here, it’s been around the same time as this girl Lea. And they’re always so shy when they see each other and almost sort of smile. It’s like we’re getting to watch their love unfold before us.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with your cats lately.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with your head up your ass lately,” she shoots back.
I make a shocked face and throw the steam wand rag at her.
“Gross,” she says. “I don’t want your dried milk rag in my face.”
“I don’t want you waxing poetic about love between a stoner and some random chick in my face.”
“I totally ship them,” Tabby says, leaning her hand in her chin and staring at the door, like she’s willing them to come in together.
“I shouldn’t even ask,” I mutter.
“Like when you want characters on a TV show to get together. And you ‘ship’ them, you want them to be in a relationship and to live happily ever after.”
“I thought you shipped him with yourself.”
“Well, obviously, in an ideal world. He’s into Lea though, I can tell. So if we can’t find happiness together, I definitely want him to find happiness with her.”
“Okay, Tab, tell me honestly. Have you been writing fanfiction about Starbucks customers?” She throws the rag back at me as the bell on the door jingles and we both turn to look. It’s not Gabe or Lea.
“Maybe I should,” she says with a smile.
I roll my eyes.
“I just like them. I like how he looks at her and I like how she looks at him. I think they would have beautiful babies.”
“Oh, Tab,” I say, shaking my head.
“I like the idea that we’re getting to watch their lives without them knowing. And I know that might sound voyeuristic and weird and pathetic, but it also makes me happy. And I don’t have a ton of that kind of happy in my life at the moment, so let me enjoy some damn Starbucks customers falling in love!”
“I hate to have to be the one to tell you this,” I say. “But I saw him in here yesterday with some chick with super-fake-looking highlights.”
“And you’re only telling me this now!”
“I only just remembered!”
“Well, that’s predictable,” she says, her face falling.
“Maybe it’s not what we think it is! Maybe they’re related,” I say. I honestly have no idea why I’m defending that dork.
It gets busy after that and we lose track of the conversation, but I have to admit I think about Gabe and Lea on and off for the rest of the day.
Danny (Lea’s friend)
I see her walking down the street away from
the bus stop with a few of her friends. It’s Halloween, so I almost didn’t recognize her with her hair all teased and crimped.
“Azalea!” I call, and trot across the street.
“Danny!” she cries, throwing her hands up and doing a little jig.
“You are totally eighties,” I say.
“I totally am!”
“You are D-R-U-N-K!”
“Just a little; we pregamed,” she says, nodding. “Maribel promised it would be fun and it is fun!”
“Hi, Maribel, I’m Danny,” I say, shaking her hand.
“Hi.”
“Oh! And this is Bianca, she lives on our floor, too,” Lea says, bouncing on her toes.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Maribel went to high school with a guy who lives in the baseball house, or a house where lots of baseball players live,” Bianca answers.
“Oh! I bet that it’s Gabe’s brother’s house!” I say, clapping my hands.
“Oh, you mean Lea’s big dumb crush?” Bianca says. Lea gives her a look of death.
“You have a big dumb crush on Gabe?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugs. “Maybe a little dumb crush.”
“He is a fox,” I say.
“He is. But you’re right, he’s probably gay,” Lea says, shaking her head and looking sad.
“Aw, don’t be sad, buttercup. He’s a totally nice guy. Worthy of friendship, if nothing else,” I say. My friends are all calling me back over. “I better go. But do you guys want to meet up tomorrow at the diner? I’ll text you around noon?”
“Yeah, sure!” Lea enthuses.
“Cool, cool.” I wave over my shoulder and head back across the street.
Casey (Gabe’s friend)
I love my housemates, I really do, but it’s nights like this one that kind of make me wish I had just gotten an apartment with Sam this year so that I wouldn’t have to deal with a house full of friends of friends of friends on Halloween. It’s fun, but there’s something unsettling about it. Especially because there are so many masks this year. I don’t ever remember seeing this many people in masks at a party before.
