Two-way Street

One Day After the Trip, 9:03 a.m.

The first full day of college is overcast and gray, which is not a good omen. Bad starts and all that. I’m a big believer in the fact that the weather of the day can totally dictate how the day is going to go. So far (at least for today), this theory has been proven true.

First, I had eighteen new messages waiting for me on my voice mail when I woke up this morning. Jocelyn (“I’m worried about you, call me when you’re ready.”), my mom (“Courtney, honey, I want you to call me when you get this.”), my dad (“Call me, we need to talk about this.”), Lloyd (“It was kind of weird the way you left like that, Courtney, and I’m mad and worried.”), and finally, Jordan (“Courtney, please call me, I love you.”). I deleted all of them, then realized that was a horrible plan, as all it did was clear out my voice mail and leave me available to receive new messages.

Second, my roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so I was stuck walking to the orientation breakfast by myself. The whole way over, all I saw were groups of twos, threes, fives, eights. It seemed like everyone had friends but me. Which was bad enough. But now that I’m here, I realize I don’t know anyone. Not one single person. Well, except Jordan, but I’m really, really, hoping I don’t run into him today. Or ever again. In my life.

I grab a plate off the pile at the end of the buffet table and load it high with eggs, pancakes, and fruit. I figure if I’m not going to be talking to anyone, then I’m going to have to keep myself busy by eating. A lot. I wish I’d brought my book. But then wouldn’t I look like the loser who has to bring a book to the first day of college? If I’d known that navigating the social landscape of college was going to be so crazy, I never would have been in such a hurry to get here.

I grab an orange juice off the table of beverages, and very carefully make my way to the end of an empty table.

But once I set my stuff down, I’m stopped by a boy wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Uh-oh,” he says, shaking his head. He looks visibly upset, like someone’s just told him his dog is sick, or that he failed a test.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s just that…” He sighs. “You’re sitting at the table where the orientation committee is supposed to sit.”

“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I grab my plate and start to stand up. Leave it to me to sit in the one spot I’m not supposed to. I turn around and scan the dining room, but the tables have filled up fast, and there’s not another empty one. Which means I’m going to have to sit with someone else. A stranger. I try to decide between a table full of girls who look like they walked off the cover of a magazine, or two girls sitting by themselves with about twenty piercings between the two of them. The pierced girls would probably be nicer, although the magazine girls look like they could have an in on the cool things to do around here. Although, God could be trying to play a trick on me for judging people on their appearances, and it could be the other way around.

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” the orientation guy says. He sighs again and runs his fingers through his short blond hair.

“What isn’t?” I ask. A girl wearing a blue sequined tank top sits down with the magazine girls, nailing the last seat. Crap.

“It’s just that if you sit at a table you’re not supposed to during orientation, that’s a disciplinary infraction.” He starts flipping through the papers on his clipboard.

“What do you mean, a disciplinary infraction?” I ask, swallowing hard. This is just great. My first day of school—actually not even official school, just orientation—and I’m already in trouble. I wonder how many disciplinary infractions you can get before you get kicked out. And if it’s going to go on my permanent record. I thought at college you were supposed to have more freedom. Apparently not, if you can get in trouble just for sitting at the wrong table.

“What’s your name?” the guy asks.

“Courtney,” I say. “Courtney McSweeney.”

“I’m Ben,” he says. He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He winks.

“Hold on,” I say, my eyes narrowing. “Am I really in trouble?”

“No,” he says, laughing. “You’re not in trouble.”

“So you were just messing with me?”

“Yes,” he says. “But only because I wanted to know your name.” He smiles, and now that I’m not worried about disciplinary infractions, I realize for the first time how cute he is. Tall, blond hair, green eyes, and a really nice smile.

“Okay,” I say. “So now you know my name.”

“I do,” he says, nodding. “And you know mine.” He leans in closer to me. “Now, I’m not really supposed to do this, but, do you want to have breakfast with me? Usually we don’t let the freshmen sit at the orientation table, but I’ve taken up all this time talking to you, and now there’re hardly any seats left.” He gestures toward the crowded dining area.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll sit with you.” He pulls out a chair for me, but I hesitate. “Hey, Ben?” I ask.

“Yeah?”

“Do you listen to rap music?”

“Rap music?” he asks, looking confused. “No. Alternative rock. How come?”

“No reason,” I say. I sit down in the chair he’s offered and Ben sits down next to me.