Frost

Celeste spoke up. “A couple things. First, I don’t know if they didn’t clean in here, or what, but my closet smells like something died in it. Also, we need new shades for the windows back there. Most are broken, and I swear to God, it felt like someone was looking in at me when I changed today.”

“Are we talking about stuff that needs to be fixed?” Abby chimed in. “Because there are a ton of things maintenance could do upstairs.”

“It’s as if they haven’t touched this place in a million years,” Celeste said.

“Totally,” Abby agreed.

“That’s not true,” I said. “They painted.”

“You all know that I have nothing to do with this,” Ms. Martin said. “Put in work orders with maintenance. And, Celeste, the house was fully cleaned. I assume the smell is just from years of being a boys’ dorm.” She stood up and gave us a tight smile, said, “My research calls, girls,” and left the room.

As soon as her apartment door shut, we all burst out laughing.

“She’s a charmer,” Abby said.

“What the hell did she mean, it smells because boys lived here?” Celeste said. “They rubbed their jocks on the walls?”

“Ew,” Abby said. “And that poor cat!”

 After we laughed a little longer, Viv asked if we wanted to go upstairs. “We still have brownies that Abby’s mom made,” she said to Celeste. “Not to mention popcorn, pretzels, candy . . .”

“Thanks, but I’ve got stuff to do,” Celeste said. She began maneuvering herself out of the chair.

“You sure?” I said. “The brownies are amazing.”

“AP portfolio class tomorrow. Have to figure out what I’m showing Ms. Spatz. I have a million things to choose from.”

“Okay,” I said, happy that we’d made the offer, and, truthfully, relieved that Celeste had refused.

 Every year, there was one room in the dorm that became our default hangout; this year it seemed like it was going to be Viv’s. When we got upstairs, Abby went to get polish to paint our nails and Viv resumed working on a giant wall calendar to help her keep track of where she was supposed to be and what assignments were due when. I hooked up my iPod to her dock and chose a playlist, an upbeat one Abby and I listened to on road trips. I was feeling giddy with beginning-of-semester excitement again. I’d survived my presentation, the dorm meeting had gone fine, and classes started tomorrow. I loved seeing who else was in them, meeting new teachers, inaugurating fresh, unblemished notebooks. . . . Dorky, I know.

Abby returned with three different polish colors and gestured that she’d do my nails first. I picked a dark metallic blue called “Nuit de la Coeur,” remembering for a moment how whenever my dad took me to the hardware store, I used to pore over the colors and names on the paint chips. He and my mom had let me choose the paint for our front door when I was seven or so, and I’d picked “Razzlematazzle,” mostly for the name. Years later, I’d still said it under my breath when I opened the door.

Abby shook the bottle and started on my right hand. For a few minutes, we listened to music and concentrated on our separate thoughts. Eventually, Viv looked over from where she was drawing a half circle on September 9. Probably noting the stage of the moon. “So,” she said, “Cam gave me some good news. It turns out Jake and Eliza broke up.”

I flinched, causing Abby to get polish on my skin. “Why is that good news?”

 “You guys left stuff in limbo,” Viv said. “Maybe you can see where it goes again.”

 Was she kidding? “It wasn’t left in limbo. He ditched me for Eliza.”

“Not because he didn’t like you,” Viv said. “He didn’t know how into him you were.”

 “The hooking up didn’t clue him in?” I snapped, more harshly than I meant.

Viv began fiddling with one of her dangly earrings. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought . . . I don’t know. I guess I got excited because he’s friends with Cam and it would be so perfect. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

I bit my cheeks and stared down at the rhythmic movement of the brush. “It’s not just about Jake,” I said. “I’ve told you, the last thing I need this semester is a relationship drama. I don’t want to have anything to do with anyone until after my applications are in and I’ve kept my grades up. Do you know how crazy my schedule is?”

 “You always make some excuse, Leen,” Viv said gently.

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Last year you found the stupidest reasons not to get together with anyone.”

 “I didn’t like anyone last year,” I said. “Spare me the lecture, okay?”

 “Fine,” Abby sighed, and then went on to talk about Ponytail Guy, her new crush.

It annoyed me when she and Viv made it seem like my reluctance to get involved was a problem. They were the ones who’d had to scrape me off the floor at the end of sophomore year, after Jake McCormick, and freshman year, after Theo Fletcher.