Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2) (25 page)

“You can call my mother,” I interject. “She can account for my whereabouts for the entire break. I spent most of it on the couch eating sugar.” I flick my left eyebrow upward, challenging him to push me.

He leans forward, miraculously interlacing his fingers. “Evidence aside, Miss Sawyer, if there’s enough talk about concerning behavior, we have to investigate.”

“That makes her sound like a criminal,” Roland challenges.

Dean Baker straightens his shoulders. “Not at all, Pastor Abbot. The safety and security of our students is our top priority.”

And sanctity
, I think, almost mumbling it.

“What we’re inclined to do,” he continues, “is send a chaperone home with Kennedy for the break.”

“You’re kidding.” Roland laughs. “That’s unheard of.
She
’
ll be
with her mother.”

“Who works a full-time job,” Baker shoots back. “And for our students with both parents working outside the home, the university sometimes sends prayer buddies home with them on breaks or long weekends, to help them maintain the moral code the university prides itself on.”

F
r
iggen prayer buddies?

Regardless of how comical the whole situation sounds, I
can’t
have someone come home with me. I can’t have a shadow while Mollie tells me the dirty tales from her dorm, or while I discuss my own
very
savory thoughts about men around campus, or my general critical thinking around the rules, the classes, or—God help me—the Bible.

Roland holds up his hand. “So far during her time at Carter University, Kennedy has endured slander by a dorm mate,
intense
scrutiny and national attention, and unfair treatment from at least one of her professors.” My mouth falls open as Roland talks. I don’t know how he knows about Professor Towne, but in this moment I’m grateful. “As far as I can tell, if she chose to walk away at the end of this semester and attend another school, what would she have to say about Carter and how the love of Christ was bestowed on her?”

My eyes sting with tears brewing from an unfamiliar emotion toward Roland. Not only is he sticking up for me right now, but he’s been paying attention—detailed attention—all along. He’s been watching over me and I haven’t known. As unsettled as this may have once made me feel, it does something much more to my heart in this moment.

Dean Baker lips. “Pastor Abbot, rules
are
rules. Kennedy has been lax in her mid-week church attendance, has had a handful of foul-language demerits, and now there’s talk about her attending parties she has no business attending. If this were
any
other student, we would be offering the same pastoral care. Shepherding.”

Roland opens his mouth, but I cut in. “Can I choose my chaperone? I don’t want just anyone hanging out in my house.”

Roland looks concerned, as if I’m waving a flag he wishes I didn’t possess. But, I have a plan.

Dean Baker shakes his head. “There is a select few upperclassmen with the privileges to shepherd.”

“Is Maggie one of them?” I ask about my RA.

“Yes. But, unfortunately, she’s going on a missions trip.”

Liar, she’s going to Seattle to visit with her sister’s family.
You just want me caught. You’re digging, and I’m going to steal your shovel.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly scan my options. Dean Baker isn’t bluffing. In fact, he’s so sure that he’s got me that I can still see the mouse tail wiggling from his lips. He knows one of three things will happen if he sends this
shepherd
home with me on break: 1. I’ll screw up and he can nail me to the wall. 2. I’ll be buckled into submission, behaving as he wants me to for the sake of not wanting to make waves. Or. 3. I’ll quit. Leave. Making his life a
hell
of a lot easier by his assumptions. Right now, none of those are options for me
;
I look to Roland who, frankly, looks quite defeated.

Looking back at Dean Baker, I place my hand over Roland’s. It’s sweating. Offering the best pageant smile I can come up with, I take another breath. “There isn’t even any need for all of this, Dean Baker,” I coo
,
placating
. “I’m spending the entire break with Roland and his parents—my grandparents.”

I squeeze Roland’s hand, begging him not to react. He squeezes back. My eyes stay cemented on Dean Baker.

What now?

“This true, Pastor Abbot?” Baker leans back in his chair.

Roland nods. “Of course, sir. Hence my confusion regarding the whole shepherding business. I guess we both assumed the other had information neither of us had.”

Dean Baker nods slowly. “You’ve got quite the travel schedule the second and third weeks of January.”

“She’ll be with me the whole time. That’s been the plan the whole time, so she can see how my ministry operates across the south.”

I listen to Roland go on about his speaking engagements, happy that he’s playing along with my lie. Once we get Dean Baker off our backs, I can resume planning some ski dates with Mollie.

“Very well, then,” Dean Baker states assuredly. “I look forward to seeing you both at the family conference in Georgia in January.”

“Awesome!” I know sarcasm is a lost language among the people here, so I dial it up with Dean Baker on purpose. “I can’t wait to learn about what everyone’s doing.”

I don’t wait to be excused. Throwing my backpack on, I offer Dean Baker a small wave, and head out of the office. I assume Roland is following me, but find myself alone when I reach the small waiting area. Thankfully, the work-study student is immersed in computer work, so I can press my ear against the door to eavesdrop without judgment.

“I don’t have to underscore, Pastor Abbot, the serious nature of these allegations against yo daughter.” Dean Baker’s voice isn’t any different when addressing Roland than it’s ever been when he’s spoken to me.

Roland’s voice, too, is unchanged. Calm, if not slightly peppy. “And, as you’re aware, I’m also a member of this faculty and am aware of the hundreds of suspicious
concerns
we receive on many students. Never, to my knowledge, has anyone been assigned a shepherd after the first claim.”

I always forget that Roland is
a
professor here. He’s the spiritual liaison, for goodness sake. I see him with students at the coffee shop all the time, and I’m sure he meets with them elsewhere. If he wasn’t my father, I’d totally love a guy like him to talk to about how insane this place can be.

You could just talk to him anyway.

“And yo sure you’re up to the challenge of watching over her during break?”

“I’m an adult, Hershel, and she’s a child.
My
child. I think we’ll manage.”

I want to fist-bump the air, but refrain, stepping away from the door when I hear what I assume are Roland’s footsteps moving toward me.

“Ready?” he says with a stressed smile while we move through the office.

I nod, waiting until we’re outside the walls of the administration building to speak. “Thanks for playing along with my bluff. I needed him off my back.”

Roland stops on the last step, causing me to turn around to face him. “Bluff or not, Kennedy, you’re coming home with me during the break.”

“What?
No. That was just to get out of that stupid shepherding thing—”

Roland puts up his hand, and a stern line forms across his mouth. “No.” He lowers his voice to a near whisper, linking his arm through mine as we move further away from the building. “Don’t think for a minute that he won’t be checking in on us.”

“Spying?” My throat constricts with anger and tears. My mind is racing around how to get out of this, how to tell my mom, Mollie—no. No. I’m going
home
for break. I’m
not
spending six weeks with Roland.

“Follow-up,” Roland lets go of my arm once we’re halfway across the quad.

“But, spying,” I reiterate. He’s silent, and that’s the only answer I need. “Well … what now? I want to go home! I don’t want—sorry … it’s not that I don’t want to meet your parents, or whatever, but I wasn’t planning on that. Yet.”

Roland cups his hand over his mouth, an intense introspection working through his eyes. “I’ll still take you to see your mom and family. But not for the whole six weeks. I do have a lot of traveling to do, that wasn’t a lie. And, even better, Dean Baker really
is
going to that family issues conference in Georgia.” The sarcastic tone of voice startles me. He growls a little, as he gets lost in thought.

This is the most undone I’ve ever seen him, and I’m lost as to how to respond. This is my fault.

“I’m sorry again,” I start. “I … I know neither of us want
s
this, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Roland looks at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. Taking my shoulders in his hands, the hard lines around his eyes soften. “Kennedy,” he whispers. “No.
I’m
sorry. I do want this. I’ve always wanted you in my life, to meet my parents, all of it.”

“But your … frustration …”

“That’s at Dean Baker. He’s the head of my unofficial lynching committee. And …”

“What?” I prompt, unaccustomed to seeing him at a loss for words.

Roland cracks a grin. “How are we going to explain this to your mother?”

Finally, I crack and release a few nervous tears. “Can you call her, please? Tell her she can call Dean Baker if she wants, but explain that we presented it as an already solidified deal … I don’t know. Just … please deal with her? I can’t. If I tell her anything about him, I’ll tell her everything, then she’ll be marching here with Connecticut’s most cut-throat lawyers and, honestly, no one wants that.” I’m rambling, but thinking of the look on Mom’s face when she hears I’ll be largely MIA during break is heartbreaking and frightening at the same time.

“No worries,” Roland finally says with a charming smile. “I’ve got it covered. It may be many years since I last debated with her in our politics class, but I know how to negotiate with her.”

Naked. That’s how I feel whenever Roland or Mom talk about each other like they’re different people from a different time and place. Really, that’s what they are to each other, but the way Roland is looking at me makes me want to wrap myself in a blanket.

Like I’m the product of two people who loved each other.

“You’re
kidding.
” Eden’s mouth hangs open so far her gum nearly falls out.

I shake my head slowly, snapping my gum. “Nope.”

She looks around our room like someone just told her Santa Claus
shot the Easter Bunny. But, it’s just the two of us, finishing up some packing before we depart for our break. Bridgette had some last-minute volunteer work to do this afternoon, which is giving Eden and I some rare alone time. It’s not that I wouldn’t trust Bridge with this information, but I’d like to take it one person at a time, as needed, and Eden and I have grown close
,
as the semester has gone on.

I’ve just told her everything I had to tell. About my first meeting with Dean Baker, my most recent one with him and Roland, through the phone conversation I just ended with my feral-voiced mother. Conversation is a loose term for what took place, given I said about ten words during the fifteen-minute tirade that started with how dare I go to Trent’s house and put myself in that position (despite her knowing exactly where I was going that night), through how dare I request to spend break with Roland. I know she knows the last part was far more complicated than a “request,” but she was angry.

Is angry.

“Back up a second.” Eden blinks rapidly as if that will help things make sense.

“To where?” I chuckle.

“Dean Baker
threatened
you?” She talks in the whisper of someone involved in a murder-mystery.

I nod. “I mean, worse things have happened in the world, but, yeah.”

I’ve had weeks to realize how preposterous that whole meeting was. Yes, Dean Baker showed his true colors as a villain to be reckoned with. But, the good news for me is that he doesn’t have anything but his two swollen legs to stand on. He’s teetering on a precarious
l
edge.

“And you haven’t told anyone? Besides Roland?”

“And Matt,” I add. I leave out the bit about the underground campus warriors suiting up for battle against the administration. I still don’t know how I feel about all of that, and what’s more is I don’t know if Jonah has told Eden anything about it.

Eden leans against her wall. “It’s like a movie, or something. How did Dean Baker find out about the party you went to?”

I shrug. “I doubt he did, honestly. And, even if someone from here knew, which is unlikely, or someone from home sent something in, it doesn’t matter. There aren’t any pictures, which leads me to believe he was taking a shot in the dark.”

“He’s got amazing aim,” she murmurs.

Her humor catches me off guard and I burst out into near-hysterical laughter.

“What?” Eden asks, falling into a fit of her own giggles.

“That was
funny
,” I assure her. “Refreshingly funny.”

Wiping laugh-tears away from her eyes, Eden regains her composure. “How can I help?”

“I …” I trail off. “I don’t know.”

“Roland lives at New Life, why are you packing so much?” Eden gestures to my suitcase.

“Because for the next two weeks we’re going to go to his parents house, then to some family issues conference in freakin’ Georgia. Only then will we finally return back here.”

Eden furrows her brow. “I thought you said you guys were going to see your mom.”

I sigh. “She’s going to come here when we get back. When she saw all the traveling I’d be doing, she kind of martyred and offered to come to Roland’s in mid-January.”

I originally protested not seeing my mom—my family—on Christmas. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized this will be good for me. I’ve claimed all year that I want to know my roots, and I can’t get to them without a shovel and a little dirt on my hands.

“Where do Roland’s parents live?” I love that Eden’s comfortable calling him by his first name when we’re talking together. It’s far preferable to
Pastor Roland
or
your dad
.

Laying a CU Sweatshirt on top of my suitcase, I stop mid-bubble-blow and look up. “I … I have no clue. I assume Ohio? Or Minnesota, maybe? I know he grew up in Ohio … right?” I sit on my bed, exhausted and chuckling at my lack of knowledge. “Give me a sec.” I pick up the phone and dial Roland’s number.

“Hey you,” he answers cheerfully. “All packed up? I see you got a B on your OT exam. Good work!”

I hold the phone out in front of me, staring at it puzzled. “I did?” I finally reply. “How do you … never mind. I forget you’re faculty. Anyway, where is it, exactly, that your parents live?”

“Villa Hills.”

“You say that like I have a clue.”

“Oh, right,” he chuckles, “sorry. It’s in Northern Kentucky.”

“
What?
” I whine. “Seriously? I thought you were from the Mid-West.”

Eden’s eyes widen in curiosity. It’s only then I remember
she’s
from Kentucky, so I should refrain from more verbal judgment.

Roland laughs into the phone. “It’s twenty minutes from the Mid-West, and they moved there when I was in my twenties. Don’t worry, no one will bite. You’ll be here by dinner?”

“Yes,” I mumble, unenthusiastically, in to the phone. “How long of a drive is it?”

“Five-and-a-half hours, or so. Which is why we’ll leave in the morning.”

“All right, see you in a little while.” I end the call and stare blankly at Eden.

“Where do they live?” she asks again.

“A place called Villa Hills?” I shrug.

Eden leaps from her bed with the highest pitch squeal I’ve heard from her yet, and tackle hugs me onto my bed.

“What?” I yelp back, shaking my face free from her bouncy curls.

Sitting up, Eden grabs my shoulders. “That’s only a half hour from me!”

“Seriously?” I shriek back,
actually
enthusiastic.

She nods and bounces while I sigh the longest breath of relief I’ve sighed in weeks. Sure, I’m grateful to hear I got a B on my OT exam, meaning I ended the semester with a B in the hardest class I’ve
ever
taken. But, this news of Eden’s proximity to Roland’s parents means that for the two weeks I’m shacked up with them, I have an escape.

“And,” she adds, holding up a finger, “it’s only twenty minutes from Jonah. He lives in Delhi, Ohio.”

I hold out my hands and tilt my chin to the sky. “Thank you, Jesus.”

Eden mimics my pose and giggles some more.

“So we can hang out, right?” I ask, just to be sure.

She slaps my knee. “Heck yes!” It’s the closest I’ve heard her come to a swear. “And we can take a road trip to visit Jonah. Or he can pick you up on his way to see me, or whatever. Either way, we’re good. Where is that Georgia conference you’re going to?”

I shrug. “I don’t even know what it’s called.”

Eden reaches for her phone, thumbing through it with a curious look on her face.

“What?” I prompt, nudging her arm.

“Does this look familiar?” She turns her screen toward me.

Family Values Conference Tour.
The picture beneath it holds a shiny, smiling family, with even shinier teeth. They’re of completely mixed races in a clear over-attempt to look diversified.

“That looks like the brochure I saw at Roland’s last Sunday.” Roland and I have resumed post-church lunch dates. I find it a surprisingly relaxing way to end my week; just him and me kicking back in his kitchen eating roast beef sandwiches with our phones off. He says he welcomes the break from the bustling that can come after a Sunday service. He’ll have to accept invitations from others to lunch at some point, he says, but for now, we like our routine.

“Well, duh!” Eden exclaims. “Look where it is!”

Moving my eyes back down to the screen. “Rome. Seriously? That’s where Matt lives!”

“I
know!
You’ve lucked right out, Missy. You’ll get to see, like, all your CU friends during break.”

I huff, trying to stay amused. The fact is, I haven’t talked to Matt much since I chased him down on the quad a few days before our OT final. He’s been aloof, and I’ve been busy trying not to fail out and being okay with B’s. He knows about what went down with Roland and Dean Baker, but I haven’t given lots of details. I send a quick text to Matt.

Me:
Are you gone yet?

Matt:
No.

I had assumed not. Students are allowed on campus until noon tomorrow. Knowing Matt, he’ll lock his dorm room door at 11:59 in an effort to spend as little time at home as possible.

Me:
Meet me at the light post in two minutes.

Matt:
Bossy much?

Me:
Jerk much?

I know the last text is rude, but he doesn’t get to start teasing with me after basically avoiding me for a week.

“Where you going?” Eden asks, watching me put on my coat.

“Just gotta talk to Matt for a sec.”

“Light post?”

I nod, offering a small wave before closing the door behind me.

The light post is just that—an old-style looking light post that sits on the fork in the sidewalk between a set of men’s dorms and women’s dorms. Since we’re not allowed inside the dorm
s
of the opposite sex, and loitering in front of the windows is tacky and frowned upon, quick in-person conversations are unofficially held in this area. Archaic as it sounds, it’s nice to have a plan when grumbling about the rules gets you nowhere.

Jogging up the small hill, I see Matt’s broad back leaning against the pole. Football finished two weeks ago, CU’s final game commencing just before finals started. I don’t know what his plans are for all that muscle in the off-season, but I hope he finds good use for them beyond punching someone—which is what he always looks like he wants to do.

“Took ya long enough,” he mumbles slyly, not turning to face me.

“To what? Have enough of your crap?” I shoot back.

He lowers his head, and instantly I feel bad.

“Sorry,” I say. “Look, I don’t care about the last couple of weeks. I just need to know if you’re staying in Rome during the entire break.”

Matt snorts. “Like I have anywhere else to go.”

“Stop being melodramatic.” Stepping in front of him, I finally get
a
full view of his face. And a fresh-looking black eye. “Oh, God,” I groan loudly. “It’s finally happened. You got in a fight.”

He flinches as my fingers trace the purple swell around his left eye, but he doesn’t move my hand. “No, there was no fight. Just me and some teammates horsing around at our post-season party.”

I shake my head. “Why are men such fools? Anyway, you know I’m staying with Roland for break.”

He nods. “Because Dean Baker is a—”

I put my hand up. “That. Yes. Anyway, turns out, I’ve got to go to the Family Values thingy with him.”

Matt’s eyes focus on me for the first time in the conversation. “Which one is he going to?”

Tapping my index finger off the tip of his nose, I smile. “Rome, baby. We have to meet up.”

Matt smiles, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll one up you,
baby,
” he teases. “Roland has had plans for six months to stay at our house during the conference.”

“Really?” I’m starting to sound like Eden with all my high-pitched shrieking. “But … will he still stay there with me? Like … rules and stuff?”

Matt twists his lips. “Talk to him. You’re a quick thinker.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You want a sleepover, Mr. Wells?”

He blushes, rolling his eyes before looking down and scuffing his feet a little. It’s almost just like a movie. A very PG movie. This is the most flirting I’ve done in five months, and it feels borderline erotic. My voice is all breathy, like a soap opera actress with mile-high hair and bad makeup. Matt looks torn on how to answer,
and
then I remember the whole no-hugging moratorium because he might actually like me, or something. My eyes sting with tears realizing that I crave his touch. His arms around me
,
and the sweet smell that comes from between his neck and shoulders.

“Date me,” I blurt out.

Matt’s eyes bulge. “Excuse me?” He chuckles indignantly, shaking his head.

“Date me, Matt. So I can hug you and hold your hand, and … please. Don’t
make me beg. That’s hardly chivalrous.” I sniff, but laugh to try to cover it up.

Matt drops his hands and leans back agains
t
the pole. “No.”

My stomach sinks so fast, I’m knocked off-balance. “What?”

“Don’t ruin this.” He growls a little. Sticky gravel coursing through the back of his throat.

“Me? You’re the one who won’t hug me anymore because you’re afraid it messes with my virtue, or something.”

“That’s what this is about? You want a hug?”

I hold my arms out, and nearly shout, “Yes! Please! I want a hug. From my best friend.”

“So you don’t want to date me?”

Clenching my fists and dropping them to my sides, I take a deep breath. “Yes I do, Matt. I want to date you.
Because
you’re my best friend and I don’t want to date anyone who knows less about me than you do. I trust you, and value you and … wait. Why am I pleading here? Why are you saying no?” I take one step back, realizing I inched closer to him during my rant.

“Kennedy,” Matt takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face and back over his head, “you deserve
way
better than me. Don’t trust me. You’ll just get hurt.” Pushing himself off the post, Matt walks in the direction of his dorm without another word.

Embarrassed and humiliated, I refuse to sink lower by chasing after him. Instead, I turn on my heels, rejected, and shuffle back to my dorm.

Bridgette has returned from her volunteer post, and is wildly shoving things into her duffel bag. Upbeat Christian music praising Jesus and good life and relationships is blaring through
tiny speakers on Eden
’
s desk
. She has a hairbrush in her hand and is singing along with the high-pitched songstress on the computer, and matching quite well. As soon as Eden’s eyes land on me, she races to her computer, turning the music off. This gets Bridgette’s attention, whose eyes widen after she assesses me.

“What’s wrong?” Bridgette says, sounding horrified. I must look especially pathetic.

My chin quivers as I plunk into my desk chair. “Matt doesn’t want to date me. He just wants to be my friend, apparently.”

I say it as if I’ve told them everything. As if they know the feelings I have for him. But they don’t. I’ve been so guarded about certain parts of my life, even through trying to be more open. Because of that, there’s going to be a lot of catching up I’m going to have to do with them.

“What?” Eden asks, handing me a tissue before the first tear even fully leaves my eyes. She’s good.

I allow myself to fully sink into girl
y
-mode for this one. It hurts. Dabbing the warm tear from my right eye, I sniff. “I asked him to date me, and he said no. Then he walked away. Like a jerk cowboy riding his jerk horse into the crappy sunset. Is it because I’m the one who asked?” I look to my roommates who are far more knowledgeable about Christian dating than I am.

Eden chuckles, trying to cover it up with a cough. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe?” Bridgette shrugged. “That doesn’t seem like Matt, though, does it? I don’t really know him. I didn’t know you liked him.”

Eden rolls her eyes. “Come
on
Bridgette, yes you did. They’re next to each other so much, I bet people who don’t know who either of them are
assume
they’re together.”

Sitting forward, I crack a smile. “Really? Is it obvious? I didn’t think it would be … we don’t, like, flirt flirt.”

Eden arches an eyebrow. “Yes you do.”

“We do? Well it’s not been any flirting like I’m used to.” My words sink in a bit.

“See? That’s just it. Over here in Christian-landia, we might not be as graphic as some of your high school friends, but we know the art of flirting. And, Matt has been relentless.”

I break into laughter at Eden’s self-deprecating term for where she’s from, and even Bridgette laughs, before adding her own two cents. “Yeah,” she agrees. “The way he always looks at you, I just assumed he’d asked you out and
you
had turned
him
down. That’s why I thought you didn’t like him that way.”

“Well now what do I do?” I prop my chin up on my hands, resting my elbows on the desk.

My two roommates look at each other, having one of their many silent conversations. I hope to get in on those at some point.

“Hello?” I wave my hand when they’ve been silent. “Is this something we pray about, or something?”

Bridgette laughs. “If you want to. But, honestly, I think you should just let it go for a while. You’ve been through a lot lately, and you’ve mentioned you think there’s cruddy stuff going on at home with Matt. Maybe he really does just need a friend right now?”

I huff, hating that she’s right. Which makes me feel worse, since I tried to force the poor kid to go out with me.

“It’s all right,” Eden tries to be reassuring, rubbing my shoulder. “You guys will have a couple of weeks to kind of forget about this before you see him in Georgia.”

“Oh man! I forgot about that.” I thump my head onto the desk. “I was hoping I’d have six weeks to forget about it,” I say to the wood.

“Well,” Eden’s tone perks up. “If you want to chicken out when the time comes, just call me and we’ll figure out a way to have you stay with me while Roland goes to Georgia.”

Standing, I close my suitcase and unplug my phone charger from the wall. “Eden, I might just take you up on that. Okay, girls. I’m off for the most bizarre
six
-week journey of my life. Pray for me that I come back in one piece.”

Bridgette gives me a quick, but tight hug. “I’m sure it’ll be nothing compared to what you’ve already been through this semester. You’re tough. I’m proud of you, Kennedy.”

Oddly enough, her overly-positive attitude is quite calming at the moment.

“Yes,” Eden adds. “I actually can’t wait for you to come to my house so I can show you off to all my friends. They keep asking about you.”

“Come on, Eden, really? You want to take me around like some moderately famous sideshow?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Not because of Roland, Captain Paranoia. Because I’
v
e told them how fierce you are. Determined. Focused. Yeah, they know about Roland. But, how you carry yourself in spite of that is what has my friends interested. They think you’re cool. Because I do.”

I hold out my arm, welcoming Eden into a group hug. “I love you girls,” I whisper.

Because, oddly enough, I really do. Almost four months in a ten-by-twelve room with two girls who scared me to death the first time I met them has changed me. Not just my attitude toward them, but to the others like them I see around campus. Slowly, my assumptions are leaning toward how my roommates are, not the horror-story version I concocted before ever setting foot on campus.

“Love you, too,” Eden replies softly.

“Me, too,” Bridgette adds.

We hug for a few seconds more before each going our own ways for the next six weeks.

Six whole weeks. With Roland.

God, I know I haven’t fully checked in lately, but … just … do what you’re gonna do here, but return me in one piece,
o
kay?