on the handle, he pauses. “How about this?” he asks, turning back to me. “Come to this party and I promise, if you want, I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”
I blink, my thoughts snagging on a dozen discarded rebuttals. “What?” I get out. “What about Mom?”
“I’ll explain it to Mom. Let’s face it, we both know touring a bunch of schools you’ve decided not to like won’t change your mind about SNHU.”
I’m almost afraid to say it. Afraid this is a trap and Lewis is going to ridicule me or leave me behind without another word. “If I just go to this party,” I say slowly, “then you promise you’ll take me home tomorrow? No tricks?”
Lewis grins. “Get your coat.”
Juniper
I, JUNIPER RAMíREZ, have officially slept in a college dorm.
There were things I knew I would love on this trip. The grandiose Gothic campuses, the new cities, even the presentations with their wonderfully real projections of the future. The distance from my family. What I didn’t know I’d love was every inch of room A314 in Keeney. The Brown flag hanging in the corner, the crooked posters of The Last Jedi and Radiohead, the three beanbag chairs, the windows with chipped white paint on the frames.
It’s everything I never knew to expect. It’s perfect.
We’re staying with Carter Wright, Matt’s former teammate from the baseball team, who’s a freshman. Carter’s roommate, Theo, inflated their air mattress, and we slept on the floor in between their twin beds. I didn’t care that we were in close quarters. Growing up with five siblings and sharing a room with Marisa my whole life prepared me very well for college.
Instead of the usual tour and information session, Carter gave us his own tour of the campus. We roamed for three hours, which left me plenty of time for every question I’d prepared on the drive down. He took us into places I’m pretty certain they don’t include on the official tour. His favorite dining hall for breakfast, the local coffee shop with the shortest lines, the lounge for when you’re pretending you want to study and really just want to hang out with friends. I held Matt’s hand, and the hours shed from the day effortlessly. It felt possible. It felt real.
Now we’re eating dinner out of Chinese takeout cartons as we sit on the beanbag chairs. The door is propped open, and people pass by on their way to the bathroom or to libraries or to parties, popping their heads in every now and then to talk to Carter or Theo. Theo’s computer is open on his desk, playing intolerable music from the college radio station. Thankfully, Theo keeps the volume nearly inaudible until the voice of the female host replaces the music. He turns the volume way up to hear Tina Wu’s commentary interlude. It’s kind of cute.
When I look to Matt, I find him thumbing through the textbook next to his beanbag. I read the cover. Introduction to Cosmology.
I nudge him. “What’s that?”
“What?” For once, Matt seems like he’s elsewhere. His eyes find mine, refocusing. “Oh, this astronomy book is just cool.”
“Tell me,” I urge him.
“It’s about the expansion of the universe.” He glances back to the book, and I have to say, his evident interest is kind of a turn-on. “It’s just not stuff we’ve learned in school,” he continues. “But the ideas are really, you know, big. Important. It’s unbelievable what’s out there.”
I lean into him. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know. It could be a cool class.” He closes the textbook.
“Definitely,” I say. “Could be a cool major, too.”
He looks timidly hopeful. I’m thrown forward, a year into the future. We’re here—or not here. The place isn’t important, because we’re together. I’m in an architecture program, and he’s in astronomy. I reach my creations toward the stars, while he reaches up and pulls the stars to us.
“What’s the senior trip this year?” Carter’s question interrupts my reverie.
“Lake Placid!” Matt replies enthusiastically. “White-water rafting, bonfire, the whole thing.”
Carter nods. “Okay, dude. Words of wisdom from an experienced college freshman. Don’t waste a moment