by Ellie Wade
Amos continues, “So, I stopped my bike in front of her. She had mud up her arms and smeared across her cheek. I asked her where she was from, and she told me she was a little bit of this and that and was from all over. She said she was a mutt. I found that so cool because my dad would say the same thing about our dog at the time. Her name was actually Lacy, but we called her Mutt. I thought it was a term of endearment, so I started calling Alma here Mutt too.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s so cute!” Quinn says.
“He did. For most of our childhood, I answered to that name. He sat down cross-legged in front of me and started building a mud hut of some sort. It was cute. We talked, and then he blurted out that his mom named him after the cookie she was eating when she went into labor. So, I called him Cookie.”
“Mutt and Cookie? You two must have been quite the pair.” Quinn giggles.
“We were.” I nod. “We’ve done everything together since then. Neither of us is close with our parents, and we are only children. So, he is my family.”
“I think that is so sweet. I love it.” Quinn clasps her hands together.
The conversation continues. We learn about Quinn’s large family from Northern Michigan. Her parents have five children, all girls. Quinn is right in the middle. She tells us what she’s heard about campus life. She wants to pledge a sorority this coming fall.
“We should do it together! It would be so much fun,” she tells me.
I try not to grimace. “I don’t think sorority life is my jam,” I say.
“Why?” She raises an eyebrow.
“I’m more of a stay home and study kind of girl, I guess.”
“There are smart girls in sororities. From what I hear, each one is known for something different. There is the studious sorority, the slutty one, the party one, the nice-girl one … you know.”
“Why would anyone join any of them but the smart and nice one?” I chuckle with a shake of my head.
Quinn waves her hand. “I mean, how much of that can we believe? It’s just the stereotypes of each one. I bet they’re all great.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” I opt to give her hope instead of shutting her down immediately, but I just can’t see myself in a sorority.
I excuse myself to use the restroom. As I enter the restaurant’s waiting area, I pull my cell phone out of the back pocket of my jean shorts. There are no missed calls or texts. I’m not surprised, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish my parents would care a little more than they do. A simple Hope you got settled in at school text would’ve sufficed.
I gasp in surprise as I bump right into someone. An apology leaves my mouth as I lift my eyes from my phone.
“I’m so sorry.” I look up to see an angry scowl and take a step back. “I’m sorry. I was … I’m sorry,” I repeat like an idiot.
“Yeah, you should probably look where you’re walking. It helps.” His voice is clipped.
I shake my head and step around him before speed-walking to the restroom.
“What a jerk,” I grumble as the restroom door swings behind me. A hot-as-hell one, but a prick nonetheless.
Why are all the beautiful ones such assholes? No, that’s not true. Amos is beautiful.
I only saw him for a second, but his appearance had such an effect on me that the mental picture in my mind is crystal clear. Disheveled chestnut-brown hair, striking blue eyes, a strong jaw, and full lips, and so tall. Though, with my height at five feet two inches, most men are tall next to me.
Pulling in a breath, I clear the thoughts of the guy next to the hostess stand.
I mean, I said I was sorry.
After washing my hands, I head back toward our table.
The dude is gone, and Amos and Quinn are standing in the lobby area, chatting.
“What about the check?” I inquire.
“Amos paid for the bill before I knew it. I tried to give him money for my meal, but he wouldn’t take it,” Quinn says.
I squint my eyes and smirk in Amos’s direction. “Yeah, he has a way of doing that.”
“It was my treat. It’s not a big deal. You ready?” he asks me.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Amos has been taking care of me my whole life. Someday, I hope to repay him for all he’s done. As we walk back to the dorm, a shadow of loneliness invades my heart. I’m not ready for him to leave. Twenty minutes away is nothing, but it’s farther than he’s ever been. I don’t know if I’m ready to be without him.
THREE
Alma
Amos sticks around and helps me put the rest of my clothes away. Then, the two of us walk around campus with my class schedule in hand. I have all day tomorrow to explore before classes start on Monday, but I like Amos here with me.
The temperature has dropped, and the wind has picked up, making it a pleasant evening for a walk.
“You know, Quinn has a thing for you,” I tell him.
“She’s not very stealthy, that one. I kind of figured.” He chuckles.
“Why haven’t you dated anyone—ever?” The question leaves my mouth as I suddenly realize that fact.
Amos is such a catch. I know he’s had interest.
“Why haven’t you?” he answers me in question.
I pucker my lips and throw him a mock glare. “You know why. I needed to focus to get away from there. I needed scholarships, not relationships. I couldn’t let anything jeopardize my future. Not some high school boy who wouldn’t matter in the long run, you know? No one stays with their high school sweetheart, so risking my grades over a boyfriend wasn’t an option.”
“Same reasons for me,” he replies.
“You didn’t need scholarships,” I state since his parents have money.
“I needed good grades to get into Michigan though,” he retorts, and years of memories and his obsession with getting into his dream school surface.
“True. So, are you going to date now?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Maybe. If I find someone I want to date. I still have to get good grades to get accepted into the business school.”
“Yeah, but you can do both.”
“Perhaps. I guess we’ll see. Why the sudden dating talk?” he questions as we turn the corner toward my dorm.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want you to be alone.” My voice trembles with the last word as I realize the fear of loneliness for both of us weighs heavily on my heart.
Amos stops. “Alma, look at me.”
I look up into his deep brown eyes.
“I’m only twenty minutes or a phone call away. You’re not alone.” He reaches down and hooks his pinkie with mine.
“I know. It’s just going to be different.” My bottom lip quivers as my eyes fill with unshed tears.
I can’t believe I’m feeling this way. I’ve wanted to be at college for as long as I can remember, and now that I’m here, I’m afraid. I never realized how dependent I was on Amos’s support. He’s my person. He’s had my back for so long. I always thought I was incredibly strong and determined, but standing here now, I’m wondering if it was all a facade. Perhaps it was Amos that kept me strong.
“I’m going to miss you not being next door,” I admit.
He brings the hand not holding mine up to my face and swipes the pad of his thumb across my cheek, collecting a rogue tear. “You don’t have to miss me because I’m not leaving you. Ever. It’s you and me for life, Mutt. I’ll always have your back and be your sounding board. I’m your biggest fan and your number one ally. A twenty-minute car ride isn’t going to change anything. You are going to rock this college thing. You’re going to make new friends and impress the hell out of them, as you have with me all these years. You are kind and smart and beautiful. People are drawn to you, Alma. You won’t be alone. Just be yourself, and you’ll be fine. You’re going to love it.”
I let out a sigh. “You’re right. I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. It’ll be great.”
“There’s the spirit,” Amos says with a sweet s
mile. “Do you want me to stay longer?”
“No, you should go. I’ll go inside and get to know Quinn a little more. She seems nice. Don’t you think?”
He nods. “Yeah, I think she’s a good person. You lucked out. The verdict is still out on Matt,” he says, referring to his roommate. “You’re good?” he questions.
“I’m good.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” I promise.
Leaning in, we bring our fisted hands and locked pinkie fingers up to our mouths, and we each kiss the area of our hand where our thumbs cradle our pointer fingers and then release our grasp. It’s the best-friend greeting that we came up with when we were ten, and it’s stuck.
I turn toward the dorms, and Amos walks toward his car. Before entering the building, I give him a final wave. God, I’m going to miss him.
“Amos is gone?” Quinn asks when I get back in the room.
“Yeah, he had to go back. He told me to tell you good-bye.”
“Aw. Sweet.” She takes a step toward me, her green eyes wider than normal. “Well, while you were out, I spoke to some of our neighbors.”
“Really? Are they cool?”
“They seem like it, but the exciting part is that they told me about this huge frat party happening tonight. Kind of a kick-off-the-year party. And I think we should go!” She claps her hands together with a squeal.
“A frat party? I can’t. No,” I stammer, kicking off my flip-flops. I head toward my bed and fall onto it with a bounce. Draping my forearm over my face, I repeat, “I can’t.”
“Please, Alma. Please,” Quinn begs. “I’ve been going crazy here. I don’t know anyone, and I’ve been so bored. It’s the weekend before school starts. Please? It will be so much fun. We don’t have to stay long. Maybe we’ll meet some new people. Plus, you don’t have homework yet, so there’s no excuse.”
I sit up and lean against the wall.
“The idea of a party makes me really uncomfortable,” I tell her honestly. “My parents are huge partiers and always had people over, drinking and getting high. The idea of being like them makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Okay,” she says reassuringly. “I see your point, and I understand your hesitation, but let me play devil’s advocate, if I may. First, from what I know of you in the five hours since I first met you, I’m guessing that you are nothing like your parents. Just because your parents drink and get high doesn’t mean you have to. I’m not getting high. No way. You can enjoy a college party and not be like them. So, at dinner, you told me that you got a full-ride scholarship here, right?”
I nod.
“Did your parents get full-ride scholarships to college?”
“No. They didn’t go to college.”
She throws her hands up. “That’s my point. You’re nothing like your parents. You’re responsible enough to go out and have fun without ruining your future. It’s just a party, not a jail sentence. I promise. Plus … it’s going to be so much fun,” she whines the last sentence in a desperate plea. “And I don’t want to go alone. I know from enough teen movies that a girl going solo to a frat party isn’t a good idea. We need a buddy system. For me?” She puts her hands up in front of her in a praying stance and waits, eyes wide.
“I’ve known you for five hours. I can’t believe your for me speech is breaking me.” I smile at Quinn.
She gasps, “So, is that a yes?”
“I suppose,” I groan.
She claps. “Yay! I’ll take it.”
I slide across my bed so that my feet are dangling off of the side. “So, what do we wear to these things?”
“Anything really.” Quinn gives me a once-over. “Your jean shorts are cute. Maybe trade out the baggy T-shirt for a tank top? Then, add some hoop earrings and a little lip gloss, and you’re good to go.”
“I have a black tank top.”
Quinn nods in approval. “Oh, yes. You can’t go wrong with black.” She begins rifling through her closet. “You’re always welcome to borrow anything of mine too. We’re both blessed with short-girl genes.” She grins and looks over her shoulder at me. “And we’re about the same size.”
I agree that we’re around the same height, but Quinn has a much more slender body than I do. I was gifted with my mom’s hips and chest. I’m quite certain that my ass wouldn’t fit into anything of Quinn’s unless it was made of a stretchy material.
“Thanks. I’ll just go with the shorts and black tank top,” I say as Quinn pulls a leopard-print miniskirt from her closet.
“Too bold?” she asks as she holds up the small piece of fabric.
“No, I like it.”
I throw on my top and carry my small makeup bag over to a makeshift vanity area that Quinn has set up. There’s a hot-pink crate sitting in front of a full-length mirror. A variety of curlers, straighteners, and hair wands rest atop the crate and a large bin of makeup.
We’re fortunate that our dorms have in-room bathrooms, but I like that this area is outside of the bathroom. I’ve never had to share a bathroom before, as I had my own at home, but I’m thinking if we used the bathroom for getting ready and everything else it is used for, we’d never leave.
“I really like this area,” I tell Quinn.
“Thanks. I just figured, it frees up the bathroom for showers or whatever. Plus, the bathroom is always so humid. Our curls might have a chance if we get ready out here.” She’s right in that the bathroom is a small space with cement brick walls. There’s not a lot of ventilation, and it still seems muggy from her shower earlier.
“I can tell that you grew up with girls,” I say as I pull a brush through my long brunette hair. “You have everything. I barely know how to apply mascara correctly, let alone what this is used for.” I hold up a metal wand.
Her smile is warm. “I’m going to have so much fun, teaching you how to use everything. You’re like the little sister I never had.”
“You have two little sisters,” I deadpan.
“I know, but they knew the ways of makeup and hair at an early age by watching their older sisters. You, on the other hand, know nothing, and that is why you’re the little sister I never had.”
“Okay,” I say on a laugh.
“I’ll give you some beachy waves for tonight. Sound good?”
“Sure.”
I sit as Quinn works her magic with my hair.
“Your hair is so thick and healthy and holds curl amazingly well.”
“That’s good,” I answer. “I’ve never really done anything with it besides the occasional trim.”
“I have hair envy,” Quinn sighs. “Mine is so dry because of my obsession with being a blonde.”
“Your hair isn’t natural? It looks so good.”
“Aw, you’re sweet,” she says while wrapping another strand of my hair around the heated wand. “No, I have brown hair and not with any of the gorgeous auburn highlights that you have, just plain mousy brown. Or that’s the way I remember it at least. I’ve been dyeing my hair blonde since I was twelve.
“There, perfect.” Quinn steps back, admiring my hair. “A couple touches to your face, and you’re ready.”
I apply a swipe of mascara and lip gloss and throw my feet into some flip-flops before staring at my finished look in the long mirror. I look older and, honestly, really good. I’m so used to seeing my makeup-free face and my hair in a ponytail. One coat of mascara makes my brown eyes seem huge.
“You are so hot,” Quinn tosses me a compliment. She’s really good for one’s ego. “Seriously, you have this sexy, hippy Shakira vibe going on. You sure you don’t want to wear one of my skirts?”
“Uh, I’m good, and thank you, though I hate my hips.”
Quinn just shakes her head. “Figures. Everyone always wants what they don’t have. I would kill for your curves.”
“I think you’re perfect,” I tell her.
“Exactly my point.” She smacks her lips together in front of the mirror. Her plum lips
tick makes the green of her eyes stand out. “We’re both perfect the way we are, and yet we both wish our bodies were different. It’s the classic female self-deprecation that runs rampant in our society. I’m trying to be better with that, but it’s hard, you know?”
She tosses her lipstick into a small black purse and peers at the contents inside. “I’ve got gum, money, cell phone, lipstick, and ID. Anything else?”
“Sounds about right.” I tap the back pocket of my jean shorts. “I have my ID, money, and phone.”
“Well, if you need gum, let me know. I have plenty. Never know if you’re going to be kissing someone tonight.” She raises a brow with a smirk.
I gasp, “I’m not kissing anyone.”
“Never say never. Now, let’s get out of here before we set the room ablaze. We’re too hot to stay in one place for too long. Fire hazard.”
I laugh. I think Quinn is exactly what I needed.
FOUR
Alma
The fraternity house is a few blocks from campus, so it’s within walking distance. The music coming from the party can be heard from a block away. People are congregated on the lawn around the old, large house, talking, laughing, and goofing around. Some linger on the expansive front porch that wraps around the building. Others can be seen through the windows on all of the levels.
My heart starts to race, and I’m wondering if I made a bad call. This is so far out of my comfort zone. Just as my steps begin to falter, Quinn grabs my hand and leads us through the group of people on the grass.
“Let’s go inside and check it out,” she suggests.
As we enter, a high-pitched squeal in the form of Quinn’s name can be heard. A tall brunette with a messy bun atop her head closes in on us.
“You came!” she cheers.
“Hey! Yeah, we did. This is my roommate, Alma.” Quinn introduces me to the girl and then addresses me, “This is Bethany. She and Gabby live across from us.”
Bethany and I greet each other, and then she says, “Do you guys want a drink? Then, I can show you where everyone else is.”
“Sure!” Quinn answers for the both of us.
