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“You seem to be doing okay. With adjusting, I mean. I’ve never seen you as anything other than ridiculously confident.”
I smile, beckoning her closer. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Trip. Wait, is it okay if we keep the nickname?” When in doubt, always go for the consent route. In my experience, 98% of the time it actually increases your chances of success.
Hey, consent is sexy. You heard it here first.
With an eyeroll, Trip nods her approval and adds another tally to my consensual scoreboard.
“Alright, I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Trip. You can be whoever you want to be.” I say the last part slowly, allowing time for digestion.
“I know that. That’s why we’re all here. To study, graduate with a degree, then go on and pursue whatever we want to do.” I shake my head, remaining patient with my padawan.
“Listen carefully. Here, at Taber University, you can be whoever you want to be. You can be Lou, you can be Trip, you can be any version of yourself you can imagine. Think of it as a clean slate; no one knows you, and no one knows who you used to be. Each and every one of us are at Taber to figure out who wewantto be, and that’s why most people go buck wild their first year. Because they want to try new things, they want to test the limit to see what works and what doesn’t. Basically, the next four years are a test drive to figure out what personyouwant to be moving forward.” Fuck. Someone call me Hamlet because if that wasn’t a glorious monologue, I don’t know what is.
Lou chews on her bottom lip, undoubtedly overwhelmed by my display of philosophical wisdom. I would make a fantastic Jedi.
“I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re right.” I tilt my head, giving her a look of complete innocence.
“Sorry, I missed that last part. Would you mind repeating that?”
Lou smirks, “Nice try, Wes.”
Note to self: the innocent face needs some work.
Chapter 5
Lou
You can be whoever you want to be.
Wes’ words echo in my mind as Stella and I make our way round the remaining booths. As dumb as it sounds, his simple concept has never once crossed my mind. After high school’s isolation, I simply resigned myself to the fact that I will always be the one who doesn’t fit in. But what if that person was simply the high school version of myself? What if thereis a version of myself who finally finds her group? A version of myself who finally finds her people?
The thought sparks a light in my chest and suddenly I’m looking at the students bustling around me in a whole different light. Instead of tacky neon posters and students dividing into cliques and clubs, a sea of multi-faceted individuals take their place. Individuals, who like Stella, aren’t subjecting themselves to one sole membership.
I can’t believe I never noticed this before.
Looking across the booths, I see a girl with brown braids and glasses chatting amiably with a sorority spokesperson. The Delta member is a gorgeous, plus-sized black girl, whose cackle can be heard from across the room. From my vantage point, the two girls look like polar opposites in looks and personalities, yet the one with braids happily throws her email down and snags a brochure on the way out. Had this been high school, there is no way either party would have spoken to the other, let alone been Greek sisters.
As Stella and I finish our last booth, a thread of fear weaves inside me. Grabbing my roommate’s hand to stop her from heading to the exit, I fretfully ask my new friend a favour, “I know we’ve been here a couple hours… but maybe we could do a quick re-tour? A super quick one, I promise. It’s just… I’ve decided there’s a few clubs I want to join.”
I hold my breath, desperately hoping she won’t be angry. Worst case, I can always venture out on my own. Probably. Maybe.
Thankfully, I don’t have to worry for long because the smile that cracks across Stella’s face is as bright as a beam of sunshine. “I thought you’d never ask! Not going to lie, we were going to keep doing laps until you signed up for at least one.”
A wave of relief washes through me and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
I would love to say my change of heart had me signing up for clubs left, right, and centre like my vivacious roommate, but that wasn’t the case. My social anxiety didn’t just disappear with one pep talk, but it did calm down to varying degrees. By the end of our second go-round, I gave my email to no fewer than four booths. One of them being my beloved Punk Rockers. It’s not quite the running leap I had in mind, but it’s a step. A small one, but one in the right direction.
Stella and I are finishing the day off with dinner at Taber’s cafeteria when my roommate tries to kill me. “Did you and Wes find a corner to make out in when you two disappeared today?”
The bite of poutine I was in the middle of swallowing changes direction and goes straight into my windpipe. I start hacking, and with a few back slaps from Stella, the fry frees itself from my airway. I gasp with relief, sucking precious oxygen back into my lungs.
“We did NOT make out. When we got separated, I was having a moment and Wes was nice enough to comfort me.”
“Would have been nicer if his tongue was down your throat.” I throw a fry at Stella’s smirking face.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. We’re friends, that’s all.” A perfectly shaped eyebrow cocks at me. Ugh. Bad word choice.
“Oh, so you’re friends now? I thought he was irritating.”
