The room explodes in laughter.
“Kidding,” he adds. “In a shoe box. On the fridge.”
“Please, no blowing up the dorms,” Dr. Helms says, sighing. “That would only make things louder for everyone else.”
“Cold compress,” someone says.
“Single-tasking,” another voice. “Like…actually just doing one thing at a time.”
“Beautiful,” Dr. Helms says. “Two clicks. We can’t always completely get rid of what’s loud, but behavior change models help us plan those click downs in a way that sticks. Something we can already have in our back pockets to use when it gets too loud.”
He pauses. “I know some of you hate models. Same. But they keep us sane. They keep us out of the ‘just try harder’ mindset that leads to burnouts and other self-destructive behaviors to quiet the loud.”
Ain’t that the truth.
He clicks to a slide from his laptop.
“If you’ve ever set a vague goal like ‘sleep more’, and then felt like a failure for not following through, that’s not on you. That’s just a bad goal. Tryimplementation intentions.Like,‘If it’s past 11:30 p.m., then I plug my phone out of reach so I can’t keep scrolling.’ Also try talking to yourself withself-compassion—‘I missed it tonight, I’m human, that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ Shame is just gasoline on fire for repetitive behaviors.”
After going over a lot of terms I’m still learning and techniques I could probably use myself, he checks the clock, then caps his marker, tucking it back behind his ear. “And because I am mean and also love you, we’re doing a ‘mini Health Behavior Lab’. One week. You’ll work in groups of four. You’ll pick a common student behavior, like bad sleep, too much caffeine, doom-scrolling, choices around alcohol, things like that. You’ll design a ‘three-day micro-intervention’ for a specific group of students. You’ll include at least two behavior change techniques. You’ll collect data on a participant’s thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in their natural environment. Everything will be due next week. One slide for your theory, a graphic you could actually post on campus, a 3–4 minute class pitch, and a short reflection on whatdidn’twork. Questions?”
“Can we pick our groups?” a girl asks.
“Groups are pre-assigned. I’ll call names, you raise your hand, and keep it up so your people can find you. After class, exchange info with each other, pick your behavior and model, and schedule your library time.”
I can do group work. I can be a person among other people. I can. This will be good for me; maybe it’ll help me not be so antisocial.
“Group One,” Dr. Helms reads. He calls out their names. Hands go up. “Group Two…” More names, more hands.
“Group Three—Lydia House.”
My hand goes up, and I keep it there, elbow stiff, a little too formal. I blame the nerves from having any attention on me.
“Pali Mathew.” Hand up.
“Jaden Collins.” Hoodie boy raises a sleepy hand.
“And…Sebastian Ramos.”
I scan the three raised hands and catch the third—long, toned arm, watch peeking out from his long-sleeve shirt, hand up casually. My eyes go from his hand to his face and lock there.Bash. My heart does a stupid skip—terrifying, yes, but also…soothing, like my muscles relax because he’s in the same room. He gives me the smallest smile. It’s there and then gone. Then he turns toward the front again.
Dr. Helms barrels through the rest of the names. “You’ve got five minutes after I cut you loose. Find your people, swap numbers, claim a behavior, claim a model, and put a library time on the calendar.”
Pali is already cutting through the aisle toward me with way too much efficiency once everyone starts packing up. “Lydia?” she says, extending a hand. “I’m Pali.”
Jaden drifts over, even taller up close, one hoodie string in his mouth like a big toddler. “I swear I’m useful,” he says, smiling without fully being here still. “I can do stats if someone tells me where the numbers are.”
“Great,” Pali says, dryly, rolling her eyes.
Bash walks over, and the space suddenly feels smaller. “Hey,” he says to the group, then finds me with his eyes. “I didn’t know you were in this class. How’d I miss you?”
“Late add,” I say, trying not to act awkward. “First day.”
“Cool. Well, welcome,” he says simply.
We huddle up together, and Pali flips to a fresh page in her notebook labeled GROUP 3. “Okay. Number exchange first, so we can organize our thoughts later. No ghosting this assignment.” We pass phones around, and I watch as Bash puts his number into my phone, lingering a little longer than he did with everyone else’s phone. Something about havinghis number feels heavy, like I just gained another emergency person…just in case. The self-doubt creeps right back in for even having that thought, at thinking he would want that responsibility. Pretty sure he’s done enough for me already as a complete stranger. Probably already thinks of me as a girl who’s just a hot mess and gets herself into too many dumb situations, and also tried to off herself. Someone who always needs saving. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want saving.
I hate the way I talk about myself, the way I always think other people think about me, the way Eli ingrained in my head these things about myself that I’m trying so hard to get rid of, how he could make me feel like I needed his saving even when he was the one doing the hurting. It makes my mouth taste like metal from biting my cheek, my hands twitch, needing something to do, and the craving creeps in, quietly at first—Thethoughts are going to spiral; you could just turn them off before they do.
