Indigo (4 page)

“I’m Kennedy.” The two words come out of him in a rush as his hand shoots out between us.

I glance at it for a moment before slowly reaching out to shake it. His hand is warm and strong and absolutely swallows mine, something I know we both notice. He gives my fingers a barely there squeeze and then his hand shoots back on the table. Barks of laughter start up again behind us, and we all look back to see it was the same table as earlier. I see Shawn and Kennedy’s eyes meet briefly and Shawn’s quickly touch mine before darting down to the table.

So, the joke probably was on me. Familiar feelings of shame return and two of my fingers brush over my scar. Sabrina pierces me with a look and I know she wants me to remember what she said before about people not being funny.

“I’m Indigo,” I sigh and give Kennedy a wry smile. “But you probably already know that.”

His brown eyes dance as he taps a finger to his temple. “Well, let’s see. I know you’re Indigo Olsen, a ballerina that loves Santa Claus, and hates chairs that aren’t just right.”

Thankful that he ignored the awkward moment, and more than a little amused that he remembered what I said in class, I turn to look at him fully. “Your memory is impressive.”

“I’m used to looking out for details,” he explains. “I guess it’s the artist in me.”

“Are artists always so literal, too?” I joke, referring to his earlier breakdown of a ton.

“No, that’s just me,” he admits with a smile, staring at me again. I realize this is probably the longest conversation I’ve had with a guy in years. Back in high school, I was always at ease around my friends or a boy that I thought was cute. I never thought twice about flirting. That feels like a lifetime ago, though, someone else’s life. A part of me feels as if all I do now is watch myself from the outside.

“She already said no,” I hear Sabrina say, and suddenly all eyes are on me. She has a devious expression on her face that makes me nervous.

“What I do?” I hold up my hands in surrender.

“It’s what you will do,” Sabrina says, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Which is making me go alone to 49 bottles this weekend.”

“The dancer doesn’t want to dance?” Kennedy asks, his deep voice going up a notch on the question. He turns towards me again, making my inside feel hot.

“Not this weekend,” Sabrina puts in before I can respond. “She wants to sit in her room all alone and
unpack
.” The way she says unpack makes me feel like she hates the word.

“Well…” I say, biting the side of my lip. I really don’t want to go out, but, will it be that bad? Probably. A butterfly circus begins in my stomach at the thought.

Sabrina slams both hands on the table. “If you come with me this weekend I’ll owe you a favor. I’ll do anything. But you can’t send me into the lion’s den on the first night alone.”

Shawn makes a growling sound which makes all of us laugh, and I find myself sighing loudly and glancing up at her underneath a hooded gaze. It’s never going to be easy for me to go out for the first time, so I might as well get this out of the way now. An 18 year old that’s never went out before. That’s what I am. The sad thought has my resolve to say no slipping.

“Please,” she says again, leaning forward.

“Yeah please,” Shawn mimics, fluttering his eyelashes.

My eyes touch on Kennedy briefly, but he stays silent, just a looming presence to my left. He doesn’t pressure me like the others, and I appreciate that.

I sigh.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this and can’t help but wonder how soon after I’ll regret the decision
. “Fine.” The words comes out softly, but my heartbeat is going full steam ahead under my skin.

Sabrina lets out a cheer of triumph, and I realize I’ve just seen a glimpse of the side of her that loves to debate. You can do this. You can go out and have a good time like a normal college girl. You can do it this one time. Rallying myself helps a bit, and I feel my insides relax.

“We should drive over together,” suggests Shawn. “What dorm are you guys in?”

His eyes haven’t stayed on me for more than a second, and he directs the comment to Sabrina. My scar, or just me in general, must make him feel awkward. Nothing new there.

“I’m at Valley,” Sabrina tells him, referring to the largest freshman dorm. She turns to me, “You don’t live there do you? I don’t think I’ve seen you there.”

I shake my head. “I live in Dow.”

They all gape at me.

“But that’s senior housing,” Kennedy says in a tone laced with confusion.

“How old are you?” Shawn blurts out.

“Are you telling me you have a room all to yourself while I’m stuck with all the little freshman?” Sabrina’s tone sounds accusatory. “No offense.”

I lean back in my seat, a little taken aback by their collective and fervent response. I inhale deeply before answering. “I’m 18, and yes I have the place to myself, it’s kind of like a studio, just one big room.” I lock eyes with Kennedy before saying, “For seniors and Indigo Olsen, it seems.”

He doesn’t reply, just nods slightly and then studies my face in weighted silence.

“Great! We can get ready at your place then.” Sabrina breaks the moment a few seconds later. “Let me see your phone.”

It’s so easy for Sabrina, who has probably had tons of girlfriends in the past to get ready with, lots of friendships with girls joking and laughing, just getting along the way girls do. But I haven’t, not in a long time, and a warm burst of happiness pops in my chest at her demand for my phone, as if it’s expected. I unlock it then hand it over, watching as she stores her number and then calls herself to get mine.

“We’re all settled, we’ll see you guys around 9:30 Friday. That work?” Sabrina nods at Shawn as he stands up and stretches his arms above his head, giving Sabrina a big smile and me a small wave. 

I hear Kennedy’s chair scrape from beside me, and once he pushes it in, he says a short goodbye to Sabrina and then turns to me. His stare seems to press me into my seat. “I’ll see you Friday,” is all he tells me, before he walks away.

KENNEDY

“How can your side of the room be a mess already?” I growl at Shawn later that night. I watch as he rummages around in a box labeled ‘stuff.’

“I think I packed too much,” he replies. A pair of jeans, a phone charger, and an electric toothbrush all fall on the bed before he says “Aha!” He unravels a slightly crinkled rolled up poster of a bikini model on a motorcycle and swings it around to give me a better view.

“Now this room is complete,” he grins, stepping onto his bed to hang it on the wall. “Now, where did I put that double sided tape?” I spot it on his desk and throw it over to him before falling backwards on to my own made bed. Unlike Shawn, it only took me about half an hour to unpack, as I didn’t really bring much. Living 40 minutes away from campus does have its perks.

I grab a football from my nightstand and toss it aimlessly, finally relaxing for the first time all day. But a few minutes later, excessive giggling has me lifting my head from the pillow. Shawn and I look out our open door to see a few girls pass by, shoving each other past our room, not even trying to hide the fact that they were peeking in.

“Not wasting any time are they,” I mutter out loud, my head falling back down a second later. “They look new. Wonder how they found their way in already.” Shawn and I are no strangers to having girl after girl in our room. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done, but the prospect of another year filled with desperate, obvious, typical college girls just doesn’t appeal. I’ve never said it out loud because it sounds horrible, but I get tired of a girl pretty quickly. Usually right after I’ve had them. They all want me, but none of them
need
me. So I let them have me, and then pray they take the hint when the night is over.

“You know how the new girls are.” Shawn answers, hopping off the bed. “Frantic for me.” I throw the football at his head, but he catches it. “We should shut our door at night now. I don’t want any eager freshman hanging around our room making us look bad.”

“Oh yeah?” I tease him, rolling on to my side. “And why is that?” He knows I’m ribbing him about Sabrina and flips me the bird. I was surprised when he asked the girls to go with us to the club today instead of just telling them we’d see them there. He broke up with his girlfriend his senior year of high school, and although he is a notorious ladies man, he hasn’t made solid plans like this with another girl since. Well, besides what time he can come up to their rooms.

I tell him as much and he lifts his hands in an IDK gesture.

“It just kind of slipped out to be honest,” he admits. “I’m definitely not looking for anything serious, but Sabrina seems feisty. Like she can keep up with me. Even better, she doesn’t seem like an airheaded nitwit.” He motions towards the door in reference to the girls that walked by.

He stops folding his jeans and looks at me with narrowed eyes and mischievous gleam in his eye. “Are
you
okay with them coming with us, Ken?”

I know what he’s doing. Making sure to keep my expression blank, I roll over onto my back. “No I don’t mind.”

“Ha!” He snorts. “I bet you don’t. I’m surprised Indigo didn’t choke on all the pheromones rolling off you.”

“Fuck you. We talked for like two seconds.” I wasn’t that bad. Was I?

He grabs a hanger and heads to the closet. “She kind of makes me nervous,” he admits.

“
She
makes you nervous? How?”

Waving his hand around his face, he turns to me with a sheepish expression. “I don’t want her to think I’m staring at her scar and make her all self-conscious or something.”

I shake my head. “It’s even more obvious if you don’t look her in the eye every once and a while.”

“I think I just need like, one solid good look at it up close,” he says, flopping down onto his own bed. “Get it out of my system or something.”

“I wonder how she got it…” I muse aloud. The mysteries of Indigo Olsen have been plaguing me since we spoke earlier in the cafeteria. I barely know the girl and I feel like I have a million personal questions stored up to ask her. Just like everyone else that has heard her story. The thought of how interested I am makes me cringe, but I’ve just been shrugging it off.  Wanting to get to the bottom of things is a big part of my personality. Impatience.

Her face forms in my mind and my brain mentally shakes itself. Seeing her up close was something else.

I add her insane beauty to the checklist of other things I can’t wrap my head around. My mind may want to talk to Indigo, but my body has something else in mind entirely.

“Why don’t we just Google her?” Shawn suggests a minute later, ripping me away from my fantasy.

“Google who?” A familiar voice calls from the other side of the room. Shawn and I both look up to see Ellen Lincoln framed in the doorway. She’s wearing one of her signature pants suit, and as usual, not a single hair is out of place. “Knock, knock,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Hey mom,” I say, immediately sitting up and putting my feet on the floor. I don’t have to look to know that Shawn has done the same.

“Why Aunt Ellen, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He knows my mom eats up his charm, and as usual, a grin crosses her features as she steps over the threshold. The clack of her heels echo loudly off the wooden floors.

“That poster is distasteful, Shawn McCormick,” she scolds, leaning down to kiss the top of my head in greeting, and then Shawn’s. “I thought I told you to get rid of the thing last year.” She glares at the offending poster as if it put itself there on its own.

“I couldn’t leave her behind Aunt Ellen,” he tells her innocently. “We’ve been together so long.” She shoots him a withering look before turning to me.

“What brings you to the dorms mom?”

Walking back over to my side of the room, I see her observing how I’ve set things up, a judgmental squint in her eye. “Just wanted to see how you were settling in and check if you needed anything.”

“We’re good,” I reply immediately. “A little exhausted from the first couple days, but that’s all. Same old.”

“Yes, you’ll have to tell me all about your classes later,” is her reply. My eyes roll behind her back. Mom won’t be interested in my classes until the grades come out.

She runs her finger over the desk, and then scrunches her nose at the dust she finds there. “I’m going to get you all the cleaning supplies you need to keep this room in order Ken honey, I don’t want you getting sick.”

“You don’t have to,” Shawn puts in. “We were thinking about going to the store this weekend and picking up a few things. We still have some things left over from last semester.”

He cuts off when she waves her hand dismissively. “Nonsense, I’ll take care of it.” A warm smile crosses her face when she looks at me. “I want the start of your year to be as smooth as possible.”

Then how about when you ask questions, you stick around long enough to listen?
As usual, as I’ve done all my life, I swallow the thoughts and return her smile. The interaction feels hollow. “Thanks, mom.”

“Thanks Aunt Ellen,” Shawn mumbles. We meet eyes and I know he knows what I’m thinking. His mother and mine are sisters, and he grew up about a couple hours away from me so we’ve spent a lot of time together throughout the years. He’s been a first-hand witness to her cold, no-nonsense, take control personality.