I still don’t really care about clothes or makeup. Most days I forget to even run a comb through my hair. But every so often, when I’m getting ready for school, I’ll pull out the only lip gloss I own. It’s this sheer, rosy color, and even though I think it looks a little silly on me, I know Sarah would’ve loved it.
I can almost hear her now.
“See, Lee! You look so pretty! Now, if you’ll just let me do something with those eyebrows …”
God, I miss her.
It’s always a relief to get out of Virgil County, even just for a day or so. And after my uncomfortable encounter with Brother Lloyd, the weekend—and my brief escape—couldn’t come soon enough. Back in December, I’d promised to visit Eden at college before her finals began.
It was a few hours’ drive, but I’d packed my truck with a change of clothes, some snacks for the road, and a console full of Mom’s old CDs.
Mom wasn’t home from work yet by the time I left on Friday afternoon, but she texted me. Be safe. And you’d better not be reading this while you’re driving! I replied that I wasn’t on the road yet and promised I’d call when I got to Eden’s dorm. Normally she would have been far more anxious about letting me make this kind of trip on my own, but I think she was not-so-secretly hoping I’d fall in love with Eden’s campus and change my mind about heading to Los Angeles after graduation.
I parked my truck in the parking lot Eden had directed me to in her email a few days earlier, then I headed toward a large brick building with a sign over the door declaring the name of the dormitory.
I pulled out my phone and texted Eden, letting her know I was downstairs. It was a little after eight and already dark out. I could see other college students walking across the quads, wearing hoodies with the school’s logo on the front. Boys laughed and girls called to one another as they journeyed off in different directions, moving toward one Friday night destination or another.
I stood awkwardly outside of Eden’s building, worried someone might pass by and think I looked suspicious, just standing there by the locked door. Even though I was dressed just like everyone else in my oversized gray sweatshirt and distressed jeans, I felt like someone should have noticed the uneasy, lingering stranger. No one even looked twice at me, but I couldn’t help thinking they should have.
Maybe I looked normal, but so had the guy who brought a gun into my school.
I hadn’t gone too far down this spiral, at least, when a short girl with shoulder-length hot-pink hair stepped out of the building. She glanced around for a minute before her dark brown eyes rested on me. “Lee?” she asked.
I looked her over for a second. This wasn’t Eden, obviously, but I had a pretty good idea of who she was, and I was excited to meet her.
“Are you Jenny?” I asked.
“Yes!” She shoved the door the rest of the way open and bolted toward me, arms outstretched for a welcoming hug.
But between her too-fast movements and the slam of the door behind her, I couldn’t help but let out a yelp and flinch away.
Jenny stopped, frozen in her tracks, a look of regret passing over her round face. “Oh crap. I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. Eden also doesn’t like it when people … You know what? Let me start over and introduce myself like a normal person.” She straightened, smiled, and extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Eden’s girlfriend, Jenny.”
“Jenny Stewart-Goo,” I said, taking her hand.
“Just Jenny is fine,” she said. “I take it that means Eden talks about me.”
“All good things,” I assured her.
“Same for you,” she said. “Come on. Eden sent me down to grab you. She’s upstairs working on a presentation. She should be finishing up soon, though.”
Jenny pulled what looked like an ID from the back pocket of her jeans. She waved it in front of a square sensor next to the door, which beeped to let us know it was unlocked. As she put the ID away, I caught a quick glance at the photo, which had Eden’s face on it.
“This way,” she said, leading me to the stairs. “Unfortunately, she’s on the top floor and there’s no elevator.”
I wasn’t bothered by this, as it gave me extra time to talk to Jenny.
“So David Goo is your dad?”
She looked over her shoulder at me as we hit the first landing. Her dark eyebrows raised with surprise. “You know who my dad is?”
“I’m actually a fan of his,” I admitted. “I’ve read like four of his plays.”
David Goo is a Korean American playwright based in Los Angeles. I’d stumbled across one of his plays on the syllabus of a drama school I’d been researching last year, and I’d been blown away. He writes the kind of characters you could lose yourself in. The kind of characters with layers you can peel back, with motivations and backstories and relationships an actor can wrap around themselves, to become someone completely new but equally real. Plays like his are the reason I want to do theater.
I was also a little bit obsessed with Jenny’s mom, Irina Stewart, who’s an acting coach in Los Angeles. But I decided not to mention that, in case she thought I was a stalker or something.
“Wow,” she said. “You’re the first person I’ve met in Indiana who’s had any idea who he is. But Eden did tell me you’re moving to LA this fall, right?”
