Ten Years and Then…

Chapter 1

The first few weeks of the Fall Semester—Albion College

Nora Langley hopped off the bus, just barely keeping on her feet. She hoped that wasn’t a bad omen; falling on her face before she even set foot on campus would have been a crummy way to start a whole new life.

Maybe she should look at it the other way: it was a good omen that she almost—but didn’t—fall. Keeping her balance despite being weighed down and in unfamiliar territory might be a metaphor for…

No. She muttered to herself, “Stop overthinking everything!”

It didn’t mean anything. There were no omens, good or bad. Just a new world, new people, new places, maybe a new her, too, if she could manage it.

The first thing was to find her dorm and drop off the fifty pounds—well, it felt that heavy, anyway—of stuff she’d brought from home. She headed away from the bus stop, scrunching up her nose to keep out the fumes, and walked straight through the main gates of the campus.

She stopped on the far side of the gates for a moment, taking everything in.

Between memories of her visit here last fall, and the campus map she’d stared at for a good hour on the train from Providence to Albany, she knew where she was supposed to go.

Morris Hall, her home for the next year, wasn’t quite visible from here, but it ought to be right behind the red brick tower in the distance that had to be Carlisle Library, just off the main quad.

It took a half hour to make it there; she stopped every twenty or thirty feet to absorb a new view. She imagined herself on every bench she walked by, every window she looked in. Nora felt like she’d lived her whole first semester by the time she walked into the lobby of Morris Hall.

It was barely controlled chaos; an older woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, sat behind a little table stacked with papers and yellow envelopes, calling out to anyone who would listen.

She had to be the dorm director, but nobody was listening to her.

Before Nora herself could go over to her and—she assumed—sign for her room keys, she felt a tug on her arm.

She turned to see a freckled, redheaded girl a couple of inches shorter than her.

“Nora? Nora Langley?”

This had to be her roommate. After Nora had been accepted, and her father had paid the tuition deposit, she’d been promised a letter with information about her roommate. She hadn’t ever received it, but this girl clearly had.

“That’s me. My letter must have gotten lost in the mail, sorry.”

The girl laughed. “Nothing’s perfect, right? I’m Kim. Kim Hartman. So we’re up on the third floor, let’s get out of the way here before we get run over.” Nora allowed Kim to take her hand and lead her up the stairs.

Daniel - August 27

Daniel Keller couldn’t believe his luck.

He’d walked into West Hall, checked in with the RA, Monica Shields.

Her boyfriend had been the RA back in Morris Hall last year so he’d seen her around.

She had given him the news that his roommate wasn’t coming to school this fall.

“He transferred to Cornell,” Monica said.

“And they’re not replacing him, so it looks like you’ve got a single room at least for this semester. ”

It hadn’t been so bad having a roommate last year.

Phil Jensen had been reasonably clean, generally polite, never once kicked him out of the room because he wanted to bring a girl over—it hadn’t been a possibility for either of them, sadly—and he’d even taught Daniel how to play Battletech , which had been very cool of him.

But without a roommate, there’d be no snoring. No having to go through the phone bill line by line to divide up the long distance charges. No horrible smells from the weird tofu cookies Phil’s mother insisted on sending to him every couple of weeks. Daniel wouldn’t miss any of those things.

And if—unlikely as it seemed, and unlikely was probably a generous assessment—there ever was a situation where he wanted to bring a girl up to the room, he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone being there.

All in all, it was a promising start to his sophomore year.

Nora - August 28

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

She shouldn’t be tiptoeing into her room at three o’clock in the morning, hoping she wouldn’t wake her roommate up.

First because it would be rude, but more importantly because if Kim woke up, she’d see that Nora’s makeup was smudged beyond recognition, and her clothes were a rumpled mess.

She’d know exactly what Nora had been up to. She’d decide that Nora was still the girl she didn’t want to be anymore. The Nora she’d hoped she could leave behind and start a whole new life here.

It was one time, right? Peter, their freshman orientation leader, had invited everyone in their group—Nora and eleven other freshmen from Morris Hall—to a party in his off-campus apartment.

Kim had been one of them, but she’d begged off.

Only three other people besides Nora had shown up: Eileen Marshall from California, and Rick and Dan, roommates whose last names she’d failed to catch.

Nora had been the last to leave, and she should have known better.

She should have gone with Rick and Dan when they left around one o’clock.

They hadn’t asked her to come with them, but they wouldn’t have had a problem with her walking home with them.

It had been stupid to stay. She’d known what would happen once she was alone with him, and of course it had.

He’d refilled her drink, and his hand was on her knee, and she hadn’t said anything about it, let alone done anything to let him know she wasn’t interested.

She put the key in the lock gently, turned the doorknob ever so slowly, pushed it open an inch at a time, and went inside one hesitant step at a time. Kim didn’t seem to stir, and Nora made it over to her bed, undressed as quickly and quietly as she could, and got under the covers.

And that’s when she saw Kim’s eyes blink open, and even in the dark she could see the disapproving frown on her roommate’s face. The same frown she’d seen in her own mirror too often back in Providence.

She didn’t want to see that frown anymore. But the only person who could make it go away was the girl she didn’t know how to be.

Daniel, August 31

All summer, Daniel had told himself he wouldn’t get down over being single. He wouldn’t think—obsess, really—about being lonely. He wouldn’t be jealous when he saw friends and classmates pairing off and going on dates, laughing together, smiling together, going back to an empty dorm room together.

His resolve lasted three days, until he saw Phil Jensen and Jeannette Morgan walking out of Phil’s room down the hall at eight o’clock in the morning. Together. Holding hands.

It wasn’t that he had a crush on Jeannette or anything.

Sure, she was pretty, nearly as tall as he was, with long dark hair maybe half a shade lighter than his own.

But he’d never given her much thought one way or the other.

It was more that Phil had somehow made a connection with her three days into the semester.

Phil, who, objectively, didn’t dress any better than Daniel, didn’t look any more handsome than Daniel, and absolutely wasn’t any less of a geek than Daniel was.

It was one thing seeing preppy guys with money and charisma to spare having luck with girls. It stung to see someone who was just like him having that same luck. Why Phil and not him?

He had to stop thinking that way. Aside from the fact that it made him seem desperate, it was just crappy in general. Phil deserved good things as much as anyone else, even if he did snore and receive regular shipments of foul-smelling baked goods.

Fine, he’d lapsed into crappy thinking. But he could change that, couldn’t he?

Next time he saw Phil alone, he’d say something like “I saw you with Jeannette. Good for you!” and he’d try to actually mean it.

Or maybe just saying it was enough to start with.

If he said the right things often enough, maybe his thoughts would change too, and he wouldn’t have to try and mean what he said—he just naturally would.

Nora, September 4

It was another late night, another attempt at tiptoeing into her dorm room without waking Kim up. But this time, Nora wondered if she should. Because this time nothing happened.

She left before it could happen.

Before, the girl she didn’t want to be anymore would just go along with whatever a blond-haired junior with no roommate and too much confidence wanted to do.

She didn’t owe Kim any explanations. She didn’t owe anything to anyone, except herself.

That was it, right there. That was the secret, wasn’t it? That was the thing that she needed to remember. It didn’t matter what anybody else thought of her. It didn’t make a difference if they were disappointed in her, or if they judged her, or if they called her names or any of it.

It only mattered if she was disappointed in herself. Tonight, she wasn’t. And that felt fantastic.

Daniel, September 5

Once the semester officially started, it got easier for Daniel to keep his promise to think better—less jealous—thoughts. All of his classes were interesting, especially Introduction to Operating Systems with his advisor, Professor Maddox.

He’d managed to impress the man three times just in the first week. After the third time, Professor Maddox asked him to come to his office.

“Mr. Keller,” he’d said, peering at Daniel through his unfashionable—even Daniel could see they were terrible—bifocal glasses.

“You know I advise a dozen students, so I apologize for not always giving each of you as much attention as you deserve. It’s clear that I’ve been remiss with you in particular. ”

Daniel wasn’t sure what that meant. “Sir?”

“I was just looking over your transcript, and I spoke to several of your teachers from last year. You are a talented young man. If I’d paid attention sooner, I would have offered you a position over the summer in the lab downstairs.

What’s done is done, but I can correct my oversight moving forward. ”

Wait—was this a job offer?

“Thank you, sir. I think.”

His advisor smiled; well, as much as Daniel had ever seen the man smile, anyway.

“Thanks would be appropriate. I’d like to offer you a position as a lab assistant for this semester.

It would be unpaid for now, but assuming you continue your excellent work, I think we could pay you something in the spring semester. ”

It was all Daniel could do to keep from shouting in triumph. They didn’t have to pay him—just working in the lab would be more than enough. He’d learn a ton, and he could put it on his resume, too.

“Yes, sir. I accept! And thank you.”

He might not have a girlfriend, or much of a social life. But he had an advisor—a respected expert in the field—who wanted to hire him. He had a head start on the future he came to college to try and build. That was more than good enough.

It was pretty darn great, actually.