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I’d had high hopes when I’d transferred to Beasley from Amherst. It’d been an amazing opportunity, considering how much more prestigious Beasley was, and I thought that with a clean slate, I could make friends.
How wrong I’d been.
It was clear to me now that there was a fundamental problem with me, not with the people around me. I’d thought that Amherst was too much of a party school and that I’d get along better with the people somewhere else. But no, I should have known. If I wanted friends, I had to change something about myself. But what?
I didn’t want to keep looking at all the people on the grass, laughing and smiling in the sun. For one thing, I felt like a bit of an idiot for overheating under my jacket. The sun had been a bit of a surprise and I’d been preparing myself for continued New England coolness. For some reason, the contrast between myself, in my jacket, and all the girls tanning in bikinis or guys with their tank tops, made me feel even more isolated.
It was stupid, but that was just how my brain worked.
My phone pinged and I checked it—it was my mom. She didn’t bug me as much as she had at the beginning of the year, wanting to make sure I was settling in nicely to my new school. I hated to do this, but I lied to her all the time. I told her I was making friends and going to parties and doing great in all my classes. Only one of those things was true, which was fortunate. It would have sucked if my social and academic lives were both going to shit.
How did people just make friends so easily? I’d always wondered. I’d had a few friends in high school, simply because they were people I saw every day, but I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be friends with me. How could they? What did I have to offer?
I didn’t know.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t see the person in front of me, and I bumped right into them.
The sweet scent of a latte entered my nose, and I felt some hot liquid spill on my sleeve. Fuck.
“What the hell!” said the girl, who was clutching the now empty paper cup her latte had been in. She bent down to gingerly pick up the lid, then glared at me when she stood up.
“I’m sorry,” I said, immediately feeling myself withdraw. God, this was so embarrassing. I never did stuff like this usually. I must have really not been paying attention.
“God damn it, now I’m going to have to get changed before practice,” said the girl, who was now looking at her dress and surveying the damage. Several large, brownish wet spots were all over her front.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, unsure of what else to say. I wanted to make the situation better somehow, but there was no way I could. What was I going to do, offer her the shirt off my back?
The other girl huffed and rolled her eyes, her brown hair bouncing a little as she did so. She had sparkling gray eyes and a sharp, vulpine face. There was something expensive about her look, and I wondered how much the dress cost. I certainly couldn’t afford to replace it, especially if it’d been stained by the coffee.
There was an awkward silence while we both stared at each other.
“Well, I guess I’d better run back to my house,” said the girl, and she turned to
throw the coffee cup in a nearby trash can.
“Wait,” I said, following behind her and wondering what the hell my brain was up to. “Wait a minute. Let me uh, let me buy you lunch or something.”
What in the world had I just suggested? Why should I buy her lunch for ruining her dress? That would just mean I had to see her again. And the thought of that sent another wave of anxiety through me.
“Um… what?” said the girl, turning around with a glare in her eyes. “Lunch?”
“Yeah, lunch,” I said, realizing I couldn’t pretend I’d said something different now. “I mean, I feel bad. Maybe I could make it up to you by buying you lunch. I know, it’s a stupid idea. Maybe pretend I didn’t—”
“No, it’s fine,” said the girl, a little more softly. Her anger seemed to pass through her and now she’d gotten over the shock. I could still smell the latte; she was drenched in it. “Let’s do lunch.”
“R-really?” I asked. “I mean, it’s… you don’t have to…”
“No, we’ll do it. We’ll get lunch,” she said. “I’m Brianne. I’m free tomorrow at 12. I could meet you at the strip.”
“O-okay,” I said, amazed at how this had completely gotten out of hand. I was going to have lunch with this random girl, all because I’d opened my stupid mouth. Amazing.
“Cool. See you tomorrow then,” said Brianne. “And what’s your name?”
“Margie.”
“Good name,” said Brianne. “See you, then.”
“Bye,” I said, completely dumbfounded as Brianne walked away.
