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Kennedy pipes up. “My grandmother—”
“If you say your grandmother used to do that...” Clair glares at Kennedy and makes a tiny fist. She weighs about a hundred pounds, so it’s not particularly terrifying.
“Well, she did.”
“Well, so what? Grandmacore is very cool these days.”
“Say what now?” Kennedy looks at her in confusion.
“It’s like cottegecore but it revolves around grandma chic. And pardon me for worrying about my friend’s health. However, my wrist thermometer says that she is not feverish. So something else is wrong with her.”
Kennedy turns to stare at me. “So, what’s wrong with you, anyway?” We stop by the soda dispenser. I get myself a large diet cola with crushed ice, and they each grab themselves a soda as well.
“Well?” Kennedy prods me.
“Well, yesterday I was very nearly framed for a crime I didn’t even have the fun of committing,” I grumble. “I have the right to be a little distracted.”
Furthermore, I had to have a private conversation with my sister and confess that yes, I did have an affair with the professor, which was mortifying. And we got in something of a fight because she pushed really hard for me to file a complaint against him, and I ended up hanging up on her.
Also, I had a very weird sex dream about Paxton last night, which involved the Rovers mascot costume, but I would literally die by torture before I ever admit that to anyone.
“You’re blushing now,” Clair informs me. “Which means you’re thinking about something sexy. And I know you’re not thinking about Nick.”
All three of us make a gagging noise at the exact same time.
Then we grin.
“Friend ESP,” Clair sings out.
“So, who is it?” Kennedy demands. “Spill. I tell you everything.”
“The last time you dated someone was three months ago.”
“The pickings out there are slim. Anyway, Clair told you about the handcuffs yesterday.”
“Oh, like that’s scandalous.” Clair rolls her eyes. “This is the 2020s.”
“There’s nothing for me to tell you guys.” Paxton, slowly peeling the mascot costume off... “Wow, my stomach is actually growling. I’m starving! Who’s hungry? I’m hungry!” Paxton, nude, striding towards me... the size of him, thick and swelling and jutting straight up...
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I hurry over to join the line. I’m fooling no one, I know.
Kennedy and Clair trail along behind me.
“Hey, Shelby-Roo!” I hear Nick’s voice braying ahead of me. I wince as I realize that he, Becca, and Kirk are right in front of us. There’s only one person between him and me in line.
“What is Fuckman doing here?” Clair asks. Wow, that seems to be the nickname that everyone defaults to.
Kennedy chimes in. “I heard through the campus grapevine that his parents have already hired a lawyer and posted bail.”
I sigh in disgust. If he actually ends up getting convicted of breaking and entering into the professor’s house, he’ll risk being expelled. And his face was pretty damn clear in that video. However, due process is due process, which means I’m stuck looking at his derpy face all summer, most likely.
“Shelby-Roo, hey, Shelby-Roo?” Nick calls out to Shelly, the woman working behind the line. She’s a middle-aged woman in her fifties, with brown hair pulled up in a bun and plain wire-rimmed glasses.
I’ve talked to her a few times. Her son is a freshman at Columbia. He’s going to be a doctor, and she’s incredibly proud of him. His name is Cory. She’s a widow.
Nick knows her name is Shelly. For some reason, he likes to call her Shelby-Roo, because it annoys her. He seems to think it’s funny. I’m sure Nick has never had to work a service job in his life. His parents have spoiled him rotten and protected him from the consequences of his own actions. I know he’s always complaining about how they’re so mad at him, but they’re reaping what they sowed.
And I can’t stand bullies.
