by Ariel Kaplan
“Are you sure? I was going to go home, but…”
“Oh,” he said. “No, of course. That’s fine. I was just offering.” And he looked…sad.
I said, “I…I guess I could get a sandwich or something first, though. I mean, I am kind of hungry.”
* * *
—
I waited in line for my turkey club and then sat down across from Greg, who had a greasy-looking burger and a paper cup full of curly fries. The dining hall was pretty empty, and I mentioned this to Greg.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the downside. Mostly everyone here’s part-time, and they aren’t exactly here to make friends. Don’t come for the social life.”
“I was just coming for the Latin, actually, if I can figure out how to get over here.”
“Well, you could ride with me, if we have class at the same time.”
I stared at him, my jaw popping a little. “What?”
He shoved a fry into his mouth. “Why not?”
My head spun a little. Damn decongestant.
“What else were you thinking of?”
“What else?” I repeated.
“If you want to miss first block, you have to take more than one class.” He suddenly looked a little embarrassed. “I mean, I know it’s kind of expensive.”
“It’s not that,” I said, even though I honestly had no idea how much community college classes cost. “I just don’t know what I’d take.”
He opened the NOVA course catalog on his phone and slid it toward me. “Well, have at it. The world is your oyster, Aphra Brown.”
I spent the rest of the evening ignoring my actual homework and looking at the course catalog, wondering if I really had to stop at two courses. Middleridge was feeling more and more like baby school to me, and there just weren’t that many different things to choose from. I could do half my classes at NOVA and get real credit for them, and then I wouldn’t even have to con someone into letting me out of the building if I had to take Kit for his shots or something. I’d be—for three courses out of seven—an adult. It certainly had its appeal. After an hour, I narrowed my choices down to the Virgil, Intro to English Lit, and Russian 101. That meant the only academic classes I’d have to take at Middleridge would be math and science. I also figured out that if I could get my counselor on board, I could miss the first two blocks of the day and come in at 11:45 on the days I didn’t have Advisory, leaving me mornings to study.
It was just Delia and me for dinner; Mom had a department meeting, Dad had a dinner with some visiting Middle Ages professor from Vassar, Kit was with a friend, and Sebastian had been felled by the authentic gas station burrito he’d had for lunch.
Walnut seemed to be feeling my brother’s absence rather keenly, so while Delia and I ate spaghetti and salad-from-a-bag, he curled up on my lap, his claws dug rather painfully into my pants.
“Is he okay?” I asked, to the sound of Sebastian slamming the bathroom door for the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes.
“I told him not to eat that burrito,” she said. “It was probably sitting in the case for the past week. But he was all like, I can eat anything. I went backpacking in Thailand.” She twirled some spaghetti on her fork and stuffed it in her mouth while the toilet flushed.
“Huh. Well, better out than in, I guess. How’s your internship-orientation thing?”
“It’s fine,” she said. “They just want to make sure I know all the lab protocols before I start. I know where they keep the good pipettes.”
“Are there bad pipettes?”
With a full mouth, she said, “That was a joke.”
I wondered how much Delia was getting paid for pipetting this summer; I knew it was something, but I didn’t know the details. I’d left my list of NOVA classes on the table next to my plate and wondered how much money I’d save taking half a semester’s worth of classes next fall. “How come you never did dual enrollment?” I asked.
She leaned over to look at my list. “At NOVA? I don’t know. I guess I didn’t see the point.”
“Well, there’s more classes you can take.”
“Yeah, but I took two AP science classes senior year. I’m not sure how that would have worked. Why, are you thinking about it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just to try something different, I guess.”
“You think you can manage that with crew? College classes are a lot more work than high school. Like, a lot a lot.”
“Yeah, I know. I think I can do it, though.”
“Just make sure it’s worth the trade-off.”
“I really can’t see how there’s anything I’d be giving up.”
Downstairs, the door slammed again. “Everything’s a trade-off,” she said, getting up and putting her plate in the sink. “You just have to figure out if you say yes to this what you’re saying no to.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was already heading downstairs to play Dr. Delia with Sebastian. There’s something vaguely romantic, I suppose, about taking care of your sick boyfriend, not that I’ve ever done it. I wondered what it’d be like to take care of a sick Greg. He’d rest his feverish brow on my tender, symmetrical bosom, and I’d stroke his hair and offer him tiny sips of soup until he recovered his strength and sobbed into my lap in gratitude. Aphra, he’d say. I’d never have gotten through this without you. And then he’d say something romantic in Russian that I’d have to look up later.
From downstairs I heard Delia hollering my name. “What?” I called back.
“I said we’re out of toilet paper, can you bring some down?”
I made a mental note to make sure Sick Fantasy Greg had something more romantic than a case of the runs.
* * *
—
On Sunday, I needed a cupcake, like, more than I had ever needed anything in my life. I texted Bethany, MUST HAVE CUPCAKE NOW WILL YOU COME?
No answer. To a cupcake text.
Probably she was with Greg.
I borrowed my mother’s car and went off to Cake Baby for a black midnight cupcake with mocha frosting, which is my particular favorite. The frosting isn’t even too sweet, which is my usual cupcake complaint. I was going to have a black midnight cupcake with mocha frosting and a cup of Earl Grey tea, which I drink in honor of Captain Picard even though it is technically not my favorite. It makes me feel like a big nerd, though, which always satisfies.
When I got to Cupcake Baby, the first thing I saw was Bethany. Behind the counter. In a baby-blue Cupcake Baby hat and a baby-blue Cupcake Baby apron.
“Hi?” I said, approaching the register. “You’re working here?”
Her eyes widened. “My interview was on Tuesday and I totally told you about it.”
“You…you did?”
“You forgot?”
I couldn’t even remember having had the conversation. I guess I’d been thinking about Greg and NOVA, imagining driving to campus with him twice a week and studying in the library together and flirting about grammar. I said, “I’m sorry. My head’s still kind of wonky from that cold.” Which was true. I was still taking decongestants twice a day, and those make me a little stupid.
Also, not really the issue at the moment. I said, “You got a job?”
“Technically I’m still in training,” she said.
“But—”
“May I take your order, please?” she said.
“Bethany!”
She scowled at me and whispered, “I have a break in twenty minutes. Can you just order? There’s a line behind you.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Uh. I just want a black midnight with mocha frosting and an Earl Grey tea,” I said. She handed me a cup, a cupcake, and a tea bag; I paid her $4.30, filled my cup with hot water, and went to sit down, waiting for an explanation.
I watched her serve the next three people
with some curiosity, like I was seeing a rare ostrich trying to swim. She smiled. She recited the same line with each customer, took their order, and handed them their change. Then the fourth customer said, “Are there nuts in the carrot cake? I’m allergic.”
She blinked rapidly a few times. “I—I—I need to. Uh. Ask. I need to ask. I’m not sure. Sorry, I don’t know.”
The woman stood back with her arms crossed while Bethany panicked.
“Could you go ask now?” the woman said.
Bethany looked around helplessly. “I—I’ll be right back,” she stammered, and then disappeared. The whole interaction gave me a stomachache. The lady should have been nicer. But the thing is, that’s how people are. They aren’t very nice a lot of the time. What was Bethany thinking taking this job?
A few seconds later, a man with a beard appeared at the counter and said, “The carrot cake has walnuts, but the spice cake is pretty similar and it’s nut-free. Everything is stored separately so there’s no cross-contamination.” Bethany stood looking at the floor while he said this.
“That’s fine. I’ll take two of the spice cupcakes to go.”
The woman took her cupcakes and left, and Bethany told the guy, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “That’s why you’re training.” He pulled out a stapled packet of paper from a drawer under the register. “This is a list of ingredients in everything we sell,” he said.
“Should…should I memorize that?”
He laughed. “No, don’t memorize it. But it’s here the next time someone asks.” He waved her off. “Go take a break. I’ll handle things up here for a bit.”
I’d already eaten the top half of my cupcake when Bethany came to sit down. “What,” I said, “are you doing?”
“Working,” she said. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“You’re working here? Isn’t that kind of…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Kind of what?”
“It’s just…a lot of interaction with strangers.”
Her eyes cut to the window, where there was a picture of a stork carrying a sling with a cupcake inside. She said, “It’s mostly scripted, though.”
“Scripted?”
“Like, 99% of the time, I know exactly what to say to people. I thought…” She shrugged.
“You thought?”
“I wanted to make myself as uncomfortable as possible.”
At the table next to us, two middle-aged women got up, said, “This was great!” and left.
“What?” I said. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to end up like Colin. Look, the manager was willing to take me on nine hours a week. So I get to feel super awkward for three hours at a time, and then I get to go home.”
“I’m failing to see what this has to do with Colin.”
“Colin’s going to have to go from being a couch dweller to being out in the world in, like, one year. He has no idea how to have a job or deal with people or, like, anything. I’m trying to avoid having to do it that way.”
“So you’re trying to build up your tolerance? Wouldn’t it make more sense to find something that plays to your strengths?”
“Which strengths, Aphra?” she said defensively.
I shrugged helplessly. “I mean, you’re so good at tutoring Kit. What about that? You could go work at the Mathnasium or something.”
“The Mathnasium won’t hire anyone without a college degree.”
“Bethany,” I said. “You’re going to hate this.”
“That’s the point.”
“Making yourself miserable is the point?”
“Yes! I’m trying to…to…”
“Have a nervous breakdown?”
“Would you stop? Would it kill you to be supportive?”
“I am!”
“No, you’re really not. How about you could say, Congratulations, I am so proud of you.”
“Congratulations, I am so proud of you,” I repeated. “Um, there’s—” I pointed to the counter, where there were now four people in line and the manager was motioning for Bethany to take over while he took a phone call.
“Oh, crap.” She got up and went to the counter while the manager stepped into the back. “Sorry,” she said. “May I take your order?”
“I have a coupon,” the woman in front said.
Bethany looked at the slip of paper in her hand. “That’s—that’s—that’s from last year.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve been saving it.”
“Okay,” Bethany said. “Okay. Could you just—” And she disappeared into the back room again.
I put a dollar in the tip jar by the register and left before I said something else unsupportive.
In app design the next day, Bethany and I sat in the back while Mr. Positano handed back our projects. My green folder came to me with a Post-it on the front with a giant A, underlined three times.
“This was really excellent work, Aphra,” he said.
“Uh,” I said, because, honestly, it wasn’t. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t think you’d be able to pull this off. This is college-level work. I showed it to some of the other teachers, and we were all highly impressed.”
“You,” I said. “Showed it to other teachers?”
“You know, this could have been a real crash-and-burn situation, but you took a risk and it paid off big-time. I think you should consider sending it to the CS department at Mason. They’d love to see an example of how someone used their source code.”
“Yeah,” I said weakly. “I’ll think about that.”
He nodded and tossed Bethany’s project down on her desk. She got a B-plus and made a little face at it. After he walked away, she said, “How did you—”
Before she could ask me how I’d fixed it, I cut her off by taking the dual-enrollment form out of my backpack and putting it next to my keyboard. I’d been planning on talking to Bethany about NOVA over cupcakes, but since that hadn’t happened, this seemed like as good a time as any. Bethany’s eyes went over my list of proposed classes and my request that I get the first two blocks of the day free.
“What is this?” she asked.
“My ticket to adult life,” I said. “Greg was talking about his classes when he came by with my soup, so I just started thinking about it.” I didn’t mention that I’d seen him on campus.
Bethany took the paper and read it again. “So you’re just not going to be here until after lunch?”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“But,” she said. “But.”
“I’ll still be here for the last two blocks of the day, but it’ll really free me up to do other stuff.”
“Other stuff? What other stuff?”
“Take classes at NOVA? Or if some of my classes are at night, I can have time in the mornings to study so I don’t have to stay up so late after crew. You should think about it, too; they have tons of math and science stuff. You could take physics and bio there instead of at Middleridge.”
She frowned. “What would the point be? If I get a four or five on the AP, I’ll get the same credits without having to pay for the classes.”
“That’s true, but…”
“But what? Isn’t the point to get college credit?”
“I mean, yeah, that’s part of it, but…” I sighed. “Don’t you want more than this?”
“More than what?”
“More than high school! Like, to be in the world!”
She looked doubtful. “It’s community college.”
“I know that. It’s just…more. Bigger, I don’t know. Don’t you want that?” On the other side of the room, Mr. Positano was arguing with the seniors about their crappy Steak Ninja game, which had earned them a C-minus. He kept saying, very slowly, “It doesn’t even run,”
and they kept replying, “But we tried.”
Bethany looked away from them and back to me, saying, “Aphra, I just started a job.”
“I know.”
“Where I have to deal with people, like, every two minutes. That’s already as much more as I can handle right now.”
“But—”
“Can you please not talk me in circles about this? Like, could you please just not?”
“What?”
“Just stop trying to talk me into it! I told you I don’t want to do it!”
“I’m not trying to talk you into it. I’m just pointing out that there are some options you might want to—”
“Stop! Would you stop? God. Everything is so easy for you, you don’t get it.”
“Everything is not easy for me, Bethany.”
“It is! You just…you just go so fast. You think fast. You talk fast. I’m just not that way.”
“You’re acting like you’re stupid, and we both know you’re not.”
“I’m not. I know I’m not. But I’m not like you.”
“Fine. You don’t want to take classes there, then don’t.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Fine.”
But Bethany looked like she was holding her breath. “So what’s the deal now?” I asked.
“You never even told me.”
“Told you?”
“That you were planning this. You never even mentioned it.”
“I really hadn’t thought about it until this weekend. I still have to apply, I guess, but NOVA will take you in high school as long as your PSATs are high enough, so—”
“This is a big deal! And you never even told me!” Her face had gone from too pale to too flushed.
“It’s a big deal for me, but I don’t get why it’s a big deal for you.”
It occurred to me then that Bethany was actually upset. I couldn’t figure out why; we’d barely had more than one or two classes together since freshman year, so it wasn’t like she was really going to miss me. Except…
