“Oh, shit,” Max mutters uncomfortably.
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Harrison says softly. “It’s a really tough school to get into, but a deferral isn’t a rejection, so you should be proud of that.”
“Thank you,” Vimlesh says sincerely. “But you did get accepted, so that must mean you’re a very smart guy.”
“Clearly,” Celeste coos.
I roll my eyes. “Subtle,” I mumble.
Celeste elbows me.
While Celeste continues to flirt with Harrison—something Max apparently doesn’t care about—my gaze drifts back to Oliver. He’s having a quieter conversation with Theo in the kitchen. Theo laughs at something Oliver says, and Oliver’s whole face lights up with joy. He’s like a lanky golden retriever—all blonde and smiley. He looks just as happy to make Theo laugh as he did to make me laugh, so clearly, Max and Celeste don’t know what they’re talking about.
I glance at my smartwatch. 8:24. It’s almost bedtime anyway.
“Well, I think I’m going to head back,” I announce while there’s a lull in the flirt fest. “I’ve got an early start in the morning.”
My words prompt the group to check their watches and phones as well, and there’s a murmur of agreement.
“Shit, I still need to drive back,” Harrison says, standing to his feet. “I must have lost track of time.”
“You and me, both,” Celeste adds, her eyes still glued to Harrison.
“Keep it in your pants, Celeste,” Max teases.
I snort, but Celeste gives Max a shove.
A few minutes of farewells later, Celeste and I head back to room 714. Thankfully, the distance between our dorms is short, which should significantly improve our mental states compared to last year. Best friends Celeste and Max will be reunited, and I’ll have more reasons to leave my bedroom once in a while.
This year is going to be better. It has to be.
As I change out of my shorts, a sliver of white paper catches my eye. Curious, I fish it out of my discarded pants and recognize it—the fortune from the cookie I had earlier. Oliver had been talking, so I slipped the fortune into my pocket to read later, but the conversation dragged on so long that I completely forgot about it. Now with no more distractions, I straighten the tiny rectangle and read it.
“An exciting new friendship will get you out of your rut.”
Huh. Am I still in a rut? I feel like Nikki has already helped a lot with that. But, sure, maybe I’ll make more friends in my social work program this year. That would be great, actually—interacting with more people in my field. I’ll need to focus more on networking soon, anyway.
I glance up at my magnetic dry-erase board, still pretty empty. I take one of my purple heart-shaped magnets and use it to affix the fortune to the board. Who knows? Maybe the fortune will come true in a way I’m not expecting. I might as well hold on to it and see what the future holds.
Monday, August 25, 2025
August in the south is the fucking worst. This is my fifth summer in Georgia, and it hasn't gotten any better. How could it? I was born and raised in northern Indiana, a few miles from the shores of Lake Michigan. I'm equipped for long, dreary winters, staying cooped up in the house for weeks at a time. I'm not built for the instant sweat bursting from my skin the moment I step outside. It's hard to believe that Atlanta is so far from the equator, given how fucking hot and humid it is.
When I left my dorm at 7:40 AM, I was prepared for a warm day. Of course I was—I’m not stupid. What I wasn’t prepared for was a forecast of ninety-two degrees with a “real feel” of one hundred and three. What the fuck? What does that even mean? How is that even possible?
By the time I reach Portman Hall, sweat has already seeped through my armpits. Fantastic. I still have time before the first class starts, so I swing by the bathroom to reapply deodorant and fix whatever has happened to my hair. Thankfully, the bathroom is nice and chilly, and I feel much better just in time to head into the lecture hall.
“Welcome to Introduction to Ethics.”
Right away, Dr. Carr seems pretty chill. As he guides us through the syllabus, it’s clear that the class will consist mostly of reading material and writing response papers. It’s technically one of the core curriculum classes, so there may be a few annoying first-years who will inevitably argue with the professor about stupid shit, but at least that should make the class entertaining.
I have a thirty-minute break between my first two classes, so I plan a quick stop at the Student Center for cheap coffee. As I stir in my sugar, I spot a familiar head of blonde hair hurryingby, but he disappears before I can recognize him. Maybe Max’s new roommate? Mr. Undeclared? What was his name again?
Oh well. I’m sure we’ll be seeing enough of each other in passing at Max’s dorm.
The next class on my schedule is in the General Classroom Building—the loudest and most annoying building on campus. Nearly all the one-thousand-level classes are held here, so most students are rowdy first-years and future dropouts. I may only be a sophomore, but I have always felt immensely out of place among this crowd. Unfortunately, I still have a few core curriculum classes to knock out before diving headfirst into Social Work, but hopefully this is the last class I’ll have in GCB.
I make my way to the sixth floor, find the lecture hall, and settle into the second row. The room steadily fills with students, but I keep my eyes trained toward the front. A lean, tall brunette woman with blue cat-eye glasses is working with an older-looking student, presumably on getting her laptop screen projected.
