Something to Believe In, Page 2

  Maxine sniffs and rests her cheek on my shoulder. “No.”

  Millie reaches back and squeezes her mother’s hand. “I meant Katie.”

  “Yeah.” I paste on a smile and nod. “Sure.”

  James turns down the radio. “Katie, why don’t you and I hop out and check in?”

  I sit in my seat for a moment suddenly feeling like if I open that truck door, I’m lifting the lid on Pandora’s box. I’m unleashing the Demogorgon. I’m opening the flood gate on a tidal wave of change, and I’ll be helpless to do anything but watch my whole life turn upside down.

  “Maybe I was too hasty in graduating.” I clutch a bed pillow that smells gloriously like home. “I mean, what are grades anyway? Who’s to say that high school diploma accurately reflected my ability to pass the twelfth grade? Right now, I can’t remember what the Pythagorean Theorem is. I still can’t run an eight-minute mile, and my Spanish can only get me a Dr. Pepper and a bathroom. Maybe I should go back and repeat my senior year.” I look at my adopted family with no small amount of hope and desperation. “What do you say?”

  Maxine’s eyes brighten. “A sound plan. Can’t see a thing wrong with it.”

  James and Millie exchange a look. They’ve exchanged a lot of looks since I joined their family three years ago.

  “College is scary.” James pastors the In Between Community Church, and he uses that pulpit voice now. “Change is scary.” He points to other kids and parents scurrying like ants. “I bet most of the folks you see here are anxious, including the adults.”

  “Consider all you’ve already been through.” Millie’s tone is her usual yoga stretch of quiet and calm. “Today is not only a lot less frightening than any of that, but it’s your reward for all your hard work. Think of all you’ve overcome and accomplished.”

  Maxine lifts her head from my shoulder. “I still think we should ditch this school thing and go on the road with my two-woman cabaret act.”

  “Your costume design involved lots of skin and glitter.” As did her last Christmas card.

  My grandma sighs. “Just as well. Your splits still need lots of work.”

  James cranks up the air conditioning and opens his door. “Let’s at least go check it out. We can have family therapy time later at lunch.”

  Slowly, I give the door handle a pull, and heat rushes in as portal to my next life phase yawns open.

  “If this is how fast she gets to class, she won’t make it past the first week,” I hear Maxine say.

  I step my vintage Converse onto the concrete and join James.

  He slips an arm around my shoulders. “Doing good so far, kid. One ugly shoe in front of the other. You’ve got this.”

  I take a deep breath, but oxygen runs shallow in my lungs, and my pulse escalates. This is probably how strokes begin. I’m no doubt seconds away from flat-lining. Don’t they see how dangerous college is?

  James guides me through the double doors of Conway Hall as a set of twins and two frowning parents exit.

  Orange cones litter the floor like chess pieces, and the scent I inhale is no longer that new, shiny smell. It’s…mildew? Mold? Wet dog?

  A girl wearing a blue Hendrix RA t-shirt clutches a clipboard as she rushes toward us, her top-knot wilted on her head. “Hi, I’m LaDasha. And you are?”

  “Katie Parker.” I shake my head as if to dislodge the habit. “Katie Parker Scott.” I’m newly adopted, and while I’m proud to wear my upgraded last name, I sometimes forget to slip it on.

  LaDasha consults her clipboard for what seems like an excessive amount of time. But I get it. When I have to find something alphabetically, I usually need to recite all twenty-six letters. We can’t all be ABC geniuses.

  LaDasha lifts her brown eyes then tilts her head like a Golden Retriever on alert. “I have some bad news.”

  Those five words have never ended well for me. “You’ve heard about my grandma, and she’s already banned from campus?”

  “No.” LaDasha glances behind her, where a trio of maintenance men tromp through her lobby with buckets in hand. “I’m very sorry, but Conway Hall has been closed, effective this morning. It wasn’t properly ventilated during construction. The building endured some flooding, and water soaked the walls during the last few storms. We’ve got black mold in the ductwork and insulation.”

  “How long is the dorm shut down?” James asks.

  “Indefinitely. They project repair might take a few months. So, every Conway Hall resident has been placed in a new housing assignment.”

  Dread drips down my spine like leaked rainwater. “Where am I going?”

  “You’ll be in Curie Hall.”

  “The honors dorm?”

  “Yep. You lucked out. Some of our residents are having to stay at the Excelsior Hotel.”

  Oh, a place with daily bed service and a pool. How tragic for them. “So, same roommate, right?”

  LaDasha clears her throat and makes a show of consulting her clipboard again. “Well…no.”

  “My roommate’s at the hotel, isn’t she?”

  “Honeymoon Suite.”

  So, she gets fresh towels every morning, while I get to room with a hundred or more intellectual geniuses. That seems fair.

  “You have two new roomies.” The R.A. has the nerve to smile. “Isn’t that fun?”

  Fun is sledding down Heart Attack Hill back in In Between. Fun is binge-watching Netflix with friends while eating chips and salsa. This is trauma-inducing.

  “Here’s a map of the campus.” LaDasha sticks it in my lifeless hand. “I’ve circled Curie Hall. Parking is limited there, so I’d hurry.” She waves at more newcomers about to receive their terrible fate. “Welcome to Hendrix University, Katie. Think of this change as the first of many adventures.”

  I clutch the map and consider crying.

  Normally, I’m always up for an adventure.

  But this? This is starting to seem more like a detour to disaster.

  Chapter Three

  “Mrs. Scott, your daughter will be totally fine.”

  We follow Bhavani, a Curie resident assistant, up the two flights of stairs like an anxious parade, while she extolls the virtues of the house. Behind me, Millie tries not to act unhappy, but I can tell from the hard stomp of her feet on the steps, this dorm change is not to her liking. My adopted mom had wanted me to begin my freshman year at the local community college, convinced I needed more time to live at home and acclimate to nearly-foreign things like studying and giving a crap about academia.

  Not for the first time, I wonder what Tate’s doing and if he feels as discombobulated. I doubt he’s quite as poleaxed. Over the summer, he spent two weeks on campus for fraternity rush and earned himself a spot as an Upsilon Sigma. I thought it sounded less like a fraternity and more like a new anxiety medication. (Upsilon Sigma can cause weight gain, excessive facial hair, and should not be taken more than once a day…) Due to frat events, Tate arrived a few days early, and according to the three paltry texts I’ve received in the last seventy-two hours, he’s “having a blast.”

  “Is this dorm co-ed?” Millie asks as we reach the third floor.

  Bhavani’s long dark braid swishes across her back. “Yeah. Isn’t it cool?”

  Millie stops at the landing, a general who senses danger and doesn’t want to let her platoon go further. “Are boys allowed in the rooms?”

  “Relax, Millie. They’re not running a brothel.” Maxine leans toward the R.A.. “Right?”

  “Guys are on the first floor, ladies are on the second and third. Due to overflow, we have a mix on the fourth. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

  I can tell from Millie’s face she’s imaging all sorts of debauchery.

  “I promise not to come home pregnant at Christmas.” I pat her arm. “I’ll wait ’til at least Spring Break.”

  As we carry on down a tiled hallway, Bhavani provides a running commentary of the finer points of the dorm, like the private library, the tricked out study rooms, and th
e occupants having the highest combined GPA of any other dorm. These things do not impress me. Tell me the candy bars are restocked in the vending machines every week, and I might stay.

  My best friend is a certified nerd, so I say this with all due respect, but this place is nerd paradise. Not one girl we pass looks like she reads romance novels or watches trashy TV. I hear a PBS documentary seeping from a shut door, and another room we pass has posters of scientists plastered all over the walls like they’re Hollywood hunks. Black and white honeycomb tile forms a path down a hall I’m not sure I want to walk down. Small whiteboards hang beside every door, and the occupants have all written their names, majors, and awards. Valedictorian, salutatorian, National Merit Scholar, Presidential Award, Perfect ACT, Dean’s List, Google recruit, NASA intern.

  I’m like a Curie Hall stepchild. This place is going to be so great for my self-esteem…

  “Here we are.” Bhavani stops at the sixth door on the right and knocks. The whiteboard declares it to be the home of Jemma and Violet.

  If Bhavani thinks I don’t see her take a deep, fortifying breath before she opens the door, her brilliant mind is mistaken.

  “Hello! R.A. coming in!” Bhavani steps inside and motions for us to follow. “Time to meet your new roomies!”

  A lone girl with brown braids and wide eyes that blink behind red glasses plucks out her earbuds as she descends from her loft bed. “Oh. Hi.” She rushes toward me and holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Violet Newbury. Freshman. Kappa Zeta Rho. From Houston Classical Prep. Graduated summa cum laude. Pre-med.”

  My smile belies my wariness. “Katie Parker Scott. Recently displaced from Conway Hall. From In Between High School. Graduated Thankya Lawdy. Theater major.” I introduce the rest of the family.

  Violet is the very model of manners, and her kindness seems to be sincere. “I’m sorry about your dorm.”

  The room is large enough for three beds, but gone are my deluxe accommodations. Two of the beds are already claimed and made up with comforters and pillows. The nearby walls are filled with photos, posters, and prints that act as decorations and territorial markers. My lone bed is shoved near a corner. It’s metal, ugly, and the mattress looks like it’s original to the building. I’m bummed to see it’s a loft bed, with a rickety desk and small dresser beneath.

  “Where’s Jemma?” Bhavani asks.

  “You know Jemma. Already at the planetarium.” Violet clasps her hands behind her back, like she’s delivering some serious news. “Jemma’s a sophomore. Freakishly smart. Triple major. Wants to be an Ivy-League professor. She doesn’t talk much, but she has the best collection of Star Trek memorabilia.” Her face falls. “Not that we’re allowed to touch it.”

  “I’ll leave you guys to get settled.” Bhavani smiles with the confidence of someone who isn’t an interloper. “Katie, if you need anything, let me know.” The R.A. disappears before I can throw out some suggestions of nachos, a giant glass of iced tea, or a brand new dorm assignment.

  One hour later, I’ve sweat through my Rolling Stones t-shirt, James looks like he’s run a marathon, and Millie’s downed an entire bottle of kombucha. She hangs my clothes in a closet with gentle care, while I shove things in my drawers. James makes small talk with Violet while he tries to level my weebly-wobbly bed.

  “Make room for grandma!”

  I drop the pair of jeans in my hands as two muscular guys carry in my large suitcase—while Maxine rides on top of it like the Queen of Sheba.

  “Lower me gently, boys.” Maxine pats the brunette one on top of his spiky head. “Katie, the service around here can’t be beat.” She disembarks my Samsonite, then stuffs dollar bills in the neck of each guy’s shirt. “Thanks, sweet peas. Millie, toss me a water. All this hard work has me absolutely parched.”

  I’d roll my eyes, but darn, if I won’t miss Maxine’s ridiculous shenanigans on the daily.

  “We could leave her here,” James says to me. “Just say the word.”

  We finish unpacking and trying to make my little corner look as homey as possible. I’d shopped for months for my comforter, but somehow it doesn’t look like I thought it would. Nothing does.

  After a walk around campus, lunch, and two runs to Walmart, the inevitable is here.

  It’s time to say goodbye.

  I walk downstairs with my family wondering why I’m on the verge of tears. Today should be a happy day, shouldn’t it? And I’ll see them this weekend. It’s not like they’re hours away. I can be home in sixty short minutes, so no big deal, right?

  James sets his toolbox in the back of his truck.“We’ll drop your car off tomorrow. I’ll even wash it and throw away all those staw wrappers.” He pulls me into a hug. “I love you, kid.”

  I inhale the faint scent of his cologne and blink back tears. “Love you too.”

  “If you need anything, you call,” he says. “Day or night.”

  I sniff. “Okay.”

  “Go to class, don’t do drugs, don’t get in unconfirmed Ubers, and don’t forget whose you are.”

  I blink away the moisture. “Got it.”

  It’s Millie’s turn, and her strong yoga arms circle me. She smells like vanilla and home and all that’s good in the world. “Eat your vegetables, say your prayers, and know you can absolutely do this.”

  I nod into her shoulder.

  “I love you,” Millie says. “And we’ll see you soon.” She kisses my cheek. “You’re gonna do great. I know it.”

  “Of course, she is.” Maxine shoos my parents away. “You two hop in the truck and get it nice and cold for me. My arthritic joints are dying in this heat.”

  My adopted grandmother doesn’t have an ailment to her name. Except for a questionable amount of mental stability.

  As James and Millie shut themselves in the truck, Maxine takes my face in her manicured hands. “I want you to know I stuffed a bag of candy in your top drawer, that bra makes your boobs look extra perky, and I’m probably gonna cry every day until you come home.”

  “Oh.” I step into her fierce hug, and the tears come in earnest. “You’re my very best friend, Maxine.”

  “Right back atcha, sweet pea.” She takes a shuddering breath. “You can do this, Katie. I know you’ve got all sorts of doubts in your head, but you’ve got this. Do you hear me?”

  I swipe away tears and nod. “Yeah.”

  “I mean it. You’re a brilliant actress, and you’re a smart girl. I want you to work hard, but also have fun. And don’t let anyone push you around.” She holds up her two fisted hands. “If they do, I’ll be glad to introduce them to thunder . . . and lightning.”

  “What if I can’t keep up in the classes?” My voice comes out small and whiny. “What if I realize I was only a good actress in In Between, and everyone here is totally next level, and I forget all my Spanish, and the only thing I achieve is growing into the next pant size?”

  “Then we get you a tutor and some sweatpants.” Maxine smacks my tush. “I’m so darn proud of you.”

  “What if I fail?”

  “We won’t let you. Even though we’re now in different zip codes, we’re always with you. Always.”

  “I know.” I scrub my hand across my nose. “I saw the 8x10 photo of yourself you hung on my wall.”

  “It’s from my newest modeling shoot from the senior center. I needed headshots for the Mrs. Senior Texas Buttercup pageant. Harvey Zimmerman takes some beauts, doesn’t he?”

  I hug my grandma again. “You’re a beaut.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She runs her hand over my hair. “Call me every hour.”

  “Maxine—”

  “Fine. Three times a day.” She kisses my cheek with a smack, then opens the truck door. “Break a leg, sweet pea.”

  I stand there in the parking lot and watch the truck drive away. It reminds me of the time my caseworker, Iola Smartly, drove me hours to In Between, introduced me to the Scotts, then zoomed away. Sure, that turned out well, but that fear of being le
ft is still a black hole I’ll live with all my days.

  With my hand in the air, I wave at my family, forcing myself not to run after their truck like a dropped-off dog.

  I remind myself I’ll see them soon, but my still heart folds in on itself, and it’s all I can do to stay upright. It’s a lot at once, you know? Sometime soon, I’ll love college life.

  Just not today.

  I finally drag myself back into the house and up the three flights of steps. I open the door to my room and stop at the sight of a new occupant.

  “So. You’re the new girl.” A tall, raven-haired girl curls her bare lips as her dark eyes sweep over my form.

  “Yes. You must be Jemma.” I wiggle my fingers in an attempt at a wave. “I’m Katie.”

  Jemma hangs her backpack over her desk chair, her eyes hotter than the sidewalk outside. “Let’s get something straight, Katie. This house is for honor students. I’m one. Somehow, Violet here is as well. I’m not here to have fun, and I’m not here to help you with homework when you’re crying over algebra. I don’t want to hang out, and I don’t babysit freshmen. We’ll get along beautifully if you stay out of my way. Got it?”

  Oh. So that’s how it is.

  “Sure, Jemma.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Avoiding you won’t be any problem at all.”

  Chapter Four

  The good news is Jemma’s never in the room. The bad news is even when she’s not here, she’s here.

  Her stuff occupies every inch of space, and the room is wallpapered in her passive-aggressive sticky notes that could be straight from Mean Girls.

  Two evenings later, I pick up a neon orange note from the door and read it aloud to Violet. “Jemma kindly suggests we don’t bring microwave popcorn in here again, as the smell triggered a headache.”

  Violet reclines on her bed and looks up from her phone. “She kindly requests, or you’re too polite to read the expletives?”

  I crumple the note and shoot it in the trash like a WNBA star. “I didn’t want to offend your delicate ears.” So far, Violet is super nice. Her parents live in Houston, her older sister went to Hendrix, and like me, she’s a fan of 80s pop music. “I love that dress you’re wearing.” I nod toward the floral number that grazes the tops of her knees and coordinates with her pink sandals. “Big date tonight?”