28. Hildy #2
“I feel like I should get a gumball out of this,” she said, dropping in a quarter.
He put a hand on her arm when she started to shove the coin slot into the machine. “Better put your clothes in first.” Walter averted his gaze like she might be holding a pile of G-strings and push-up bras.
“It’s just sheets,” she reassured him. “I haven’t even slept on them yet.”
“You’re washing clean sheets?”
“Thank you! It’s bizarre, right? Is this why adults are so stressed? Their lives are filled with made-up chores.”
He nodded slowly, like he was giving her theory serious thought. It was a nice change from home, where everyone smiled vaguely when she talked, as if they were indulging her childish babble while counting down the seconds until they could bail.
“Does your mom still do your laundry?” Walter asked.
Although she didn’t detect any judgment in his tone, Hildy felt the need to set him straight. “She’s not in the picture.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago. Not exactly breaking news.”
“Still.”
“I never really knew her.” Hildy was going for it’s all good! I’m not a human tragedy! Judging by Walter’s expression, the attempt had backfired. She balled up the sheets and dumped them into the washing machine. “What’s next?”
He hesitated only briefly before accepting the subject change. “Detergent.”
Walter looked Hildy up and down, from the bare floor next to her feet to her empty hands and slim purse. It felt like a practical inspection rather than a pervy one, but she would have gladly given him one of her remaining quarters for his thoughts.
“They have some down here.” He led her to a banged-up metal cabinet. To Hildy’s surprise, Walter pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the doors. There were shelves full of cleaning supplies inside, including industrial-sized boxes of laundry detergent.
“You’re like the James Bond of laundry,” Hildy observed as he scooped some bluish-white powder into a plastic measuring cup.
He snorted at that. “Not exactly.”
“Then why do you have keys to the secret supply cabinet?”
“I’m helping out at the dorms when we’re not in class. My scholarship is actually a work-study deal. To cover the room and board.”
She was relieved he didn’t ask about her family’s ability to pay out of pocket for this program, since Hildy had no desire to go there.
“So you know the lay of the land.”
“I guess?” Walter shrugged before heading back to the washer. “It’s not like they gave me the nuclear codes.”
Modesty was a rare quality in Hildy’s world. She found his lack of hype refreshing. It made him seem trustworthy, on top of being handy to have around.
“Walter.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know anyone else in the program?”
“No.”
She smoothed her hair. “Do you want to do it with me?”
His hand jerked, shooting granules of laundry soap onto the floor. “What?”
“There’s going to be a group project.” This was the one useful piece of advice she’d gotten from her cousins. “We could be partners.”
Walter closed the lid of the washer and turned a dial. “You want to work with me?” he asked over the sound of water filling the machine.
“That’s the general idea.”
When he didn’t respond right away, Hildy braced for rejection. Maybe she’d come on too strong, when she should have played it cool.
“You don’t even know who else is going to be there,” he said at last, sliding her a look she couldn’t read.
“I have excellent instincts.” Or at least she hoped that was the case. Will to power and all that. “But if you don’t want to—”
“I do.”
“Good.” She gave him her full-wattage smile. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
His mouth opened and then closed again without making a sound.
“That’s a line from an old movie.” As opposed to someone trying way too hard to turn this into a cheesy moment.
Walter smiled, a little shy, and Hildy’s embarrassment faded. Clean sheets and someone to sit with tomorrow? Things were looking up.
“Hi,” Hildy said, a little out of breath, as she sank into the empty chair on Walter’s right the next morning. A toothpaste misfortune had forced her to change her entire outfit, hence the later-than-planned arrival.
Corinne leaned past him to give Hildy a sardonic look. “Nice of you to join us.”
Oh, goodie. Her mysterious and hostile roommate was sitting with Hildy’s only friend. “You two know each other?” She crossed her fingers the answer was no.
“Me and Wally go way back,” Corinne replied, before Walter could get a word in. “Scholarship kids stick together.” She raised her eyebrows, daring Hildy to pretend to be one of them.
“We met yesterday,” Walter said. “Corinne was locked out.”
Hildy wondered if he would say something similar about her. We met yesterday. She didn’t know how to use a washing machine. That was okay, because he was about to see her in her element.
She surveyed the rest of the room, sizing up the competition.
One or two other loose clusters had formed, including a band of private school types who had clearly been acquainted for longer than a day.
They reminded Hildy of her cousins, from the tips of their gelled hair to the leather laces on their boat shoes.
No doubt they assumed the prize was theirs for the taking and had already written off the rest of the group for not looking like they’d traveled here by yacht.
It was going to be a pleasure to wipe the floor with them.
A newspaper landed on the table in front of her.
Hildy snapped to attention, making quick eye contact with the woman who was passing them out.
She was old enough to have silver threaded through her shoulder-length dark hair, and her expression, while stern, lacked the tightly wound quality of a copyeditor.
Probably a department head, judging by her age and air of command.
Too intense for features, and not outdoorsy enough for photography or sports, so Hildy’s money was on the metro desk.
Her fingers tapped, nervous energy spilling over. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.
“You okay?” Walter asked.
“I’m excited,” she whispered back, not softly enough to keep Corinne from rolling her eyes.