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“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I say drily.
He chuckles, “Alright. I’ll see you later…” he trails off, leaving me to fill in the blank.
“Katerina,” I supply.
“Katerina,” he repeats with a smile. “I’m Xander.”
“I would say nice to meet you Xander but it’s really not, considering your pestering has made me late for a meeting.”
“Eh, you were already late anyway. I’ll see you later for our date.”
He starts to walk away after one last bright smile.
“I hate sushi by the way,” I yell at his back.
He waves at me over his shoulder, “Noted, princess.”
As soon as he’s gone, I’m rushing for the library where the meeting is already underway. Thankfully, no one pays me any attention as I slide into a seat at the edge of the table. I always hated group assignments in high school. Mostly because owing to the fact that I had no friends, I was always paired up with idiots and then I always ended up having to do most of the work on my own.
Harvard’s different though. Everyone here seems driven, intent on finishing their tasks and moving on to the next. By the end of the meeting, our work has been evenly shared. No one stops to make small talk, there are no pleasantries. They’re all intent on minding their own business, which suits me perfectly.
I head for the front desk once the meeting disperses, placing the books I borrowed. The librarian arches an eyebrow when I hand her a list of books I’d like to borrow next. Which if I’m being honest, might be weird. Not a lot of freshmen are reading about criminal litigation.
But I like to read. It’s literally the only thing I’ve got going on in my life.
My sister calls a few hours later while I’m in my dorm room. I’m surprised it took her so long. I’ve only been at college for a month but I swear Sophia has called me every day since. She’s definitely having separation anxiety and I can’t exactly blame her since I’m feeling it too. This is the most time we’ve been apart since we were kids.
“Hey, sorella,” she greets, calling me sister in Italian.
We’re mixed race. Born and raised in America. But our dad’s a second generation Italian. His family moved to the U.S when he was just a boy. By the time he became a teenager, he left, trying to crawl his way up to the top, doing anything to survive. He always likes to remind myself and my sister that he built a name for himself out of ashes.
Our mother was Russian. Born and raised in Moscow. She was her family’s second daughter. A complete Russian woman but one that like to defy traditions and propriety on occasion. It’s how she was able to marry my father and live her home country, which was extremely brave of her. She passed away a long time ago.
“Hey, how was school?” I ask, lying on my bed.
“It was alright. Nothing interesting. I’m heading out to a party in a couple of minutes,” she informs me. My little sister’s a social butterfly. Where I’m woefully inadept with social interactions, she thrives. I hate crowds, she likes being the center of attention. She’s always trying to get me to live a little.
The room is blessedly quiet. My roommate is almost never around which is one of the things that makes living in a dorm bearable. Papa offered to get me somewhere off campus so I’d be more comfortable but I wanted to at least try. The one thing I promised myself when coming here was that I’d do my best to have a semi-normal college experience. Although I seem to be failing woefully, something that Sophia will undoubtedly be pointing out soon.
“That’s nice, Soph,” I tell her.
“Please tell me you’re not in your room alone, on a Friday night.”
“Alright I won’t.”
She groans softly. “Kat, we talked about it. You’re supposed to branch out in college. Meet new people, make some friends.”
“But why is that necessary?” I retort. “Most people would run for the hills if they knew I keep a revolver under my pillow to sleep. It just seems futile starting relationships that will inevitably end once they get to know the real me.”
My sister and I haven’t had the most conventional upbringings. Quite the opposite, considering our father’s one of the top mafia Don’s in the New York, Cosa Nostra. Still, we’ve gone through great pains to hide who we really are. Our identities are secret. Which means whoever we meet, any relationships we begin are always tainted with a cloud of untruth, and we can never be a hundred percent ourselves with anyone.
Sophia seems okay with it. She’s managed to find a balance and some kind of peace with entering meaningless relationships that will eventually end. She’s great at putting herself out there. I’m not.
It’s kind of embarrassing. Because I’m meant to be the big sister. I can be brave when it comes to anything else. Shooting people, fighting, I’m good at those. Anything I’m not good at, I work hard to be. But when it comes to people, there will always be this gap that I can’t seem to cross.
“At least tell me you’ve done something interesting since arriving at Harvard?” Sophia questions, exasperation in her tone.
“I joined a robotics club.”
