Homecoming Page 3

  “How’s it going, Rory?”

  “Hi, Jeff,” she said, trying to play it cool. “Thanks for giving us a hand.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” His eyebrows arched as he regarded the box. “That really is a monster. You won it, huh?”

  He was clearly impressed, and Rory couldn’t stop herself from smiling like a fool. “I see Matt’s been talkative,” she said. “What a surprise.”

  Together, they maneuvered the television off the truck and staggered toward the front door of Hutchinson Hall. Rory kept sneaking glances at Jeff as they waited for an elevator to take them up to the third floor. His shaggy dark hair kept falling into his eyes, and he smelled faintly of tobacco, and dammit, she could feel all of her old feelings rising up to clog her throat. When the hell will I get over this silly crush?

  “So, uh,” she said, “what’d you do over the summer, Jeff?”

  “I was in Austria, studying at the Vienna Conservatory.”

  “Oh, wow,” Rory said, instantly hating herself for letting that be her first reaction. Why did she always have to act like such a fangirl around him? “That sounds, ah, like quite an opportunity.” Idiot, idiot, idiot!

  “It was sweet,” was all Jeff said as they pushed the box into the elevator and rode up.

  By the time they reached the end of the hall and Rory’s room, they were all gasping for breath. Rory’s arms burned as she straightened up from depositing the TV in an unoccupied corner.

  “All right,” she said breathlessly. “Thanks, you guys. Come over and watch a movie anytime, okay?”

  Jeff nodded absently as he looked around the room. “These corner suites are pretty decent,” he said. “Who are you living with?”

  “Sarah Storm.”

  Jeff’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm. I don’t think I know her.”

  “Me, neither,” Rory said. “She’s a random. My two closest female friends are studying abroad this year, so I decided to try my luck in the roommate lottery.”

  “That’s brave of you.”

  “Guess so.” Rory felt a spike of anxiety at Jeff’s comment. Sarah seemed nice enough—at least, her voicemail messages did—but what if the two of them were completely incompatible? With an effort, she shrugged off the familiar worry. I’ll know soon enough. “At the very least, she’s got a cool name,” she said.

  “I still think it’s ridiculous that you and I can’t live together, Ror,” Matt chimed in. “Dumbass heteronormative housing policy.”

  “It’s probably for the best,” Rory said. “I love you, and I don’t mind Andrew Lloyd Webber in small doses, but…”

  “Yeah, yeah yeah.” Matt sighed dramatically. “I know. It would never work.”

  “Who did you find to room with?” Jeff asked.

  “Me, myself, and I.” Matt smirked. “Being an RA means I get to have a single. Can you say ‘Party Central,’ ladies and gentlemen?”

  Jeff grinned. Rory felt her heart do a somersault. A full-fledged smile was a rare and beautiful thing where Jeff Lee was concerned. I could make you happy, Jeff. Couldn’t I?

  “Your parties are always chill,” he said. “I’ll look forward to them.” He headed for the door and looked over his shoulder just before crossing the threshold. “See you ’round, Rory.”

  Rory nodded, barely managing to repress her urge to wave. “Yeah—see you. And thanks again.” She sighed as the door closed behind him, and she slumped against her desk. Reining herself in around Jeff was exhausting.

  “Am I the best best friend or what?” Matt said, triumphant.

  “You are a rock star,” Rory said absently, surveying the piles of boxes that littered her desk and floor. The place was a mess. I should at least unpack some of this stuff before Sarah gets here tomorrow. “All right, you—I think I’m going to do some unpacking. Want to meet up for dinner?”

  “Definitely,” Matt said, turning to leave. “Text me.”

  Once he had gone, Rory pushed herself away from the desk and squared her shoulders, determined to at least make a dent in the chaos. “Huh,” she muttered. “Do I set up the TV first? Or the computer? Decisions, decisions…”

  *

  Sarah stepped out of her car and looked up at the façade of Hutchinson Hall, her home for the next year. She already knew—from a colorful pamphlet sent to her by the Department of Housing and Residential Life—that it had been named for the dissident Puritan preacher, Anne Hutchinson. Sarah’s lips curved in a fleeting smile. When Hutchinson had dared to challenge the religious establishment, she’d been kicked out of her colony.

  “You and me both,” Sarah murmured. She ran her fingers through her hair, still unused to how short it was. The day after Dar had broken up with her, Sarah had experienced an urge to make a change. As her hair had cascaded to the floor in the wake of the clippers, Sarah had felt a sense of lightness, of freedom. I look like I’m supposed to, she had realized as she’d stared into the mirror. This right here—this is finally me.

  Her attention snapped back to the present as she noticed an attractive redhead walking toward her, carrying a milk crate full of books. An older man—presumably her father—followed in tow. The woman paused briefly as she drew alongside Sarah to look her up and down. Sarah blushed and quickly turned away to yank open the back left door of her car. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and grabbed her duffel bag full of clothing. No milk crates for me, she thought, realizing that she’d only need to make one additional trip to retrieve the lamp and the hot pot that Corrie and Quinn had given her.

  Once inside the building, Sarah bypassed the line for the elevators and headed toward the stairs. As she lugged her bags up three flights, she wondered whether her roommate had already arrived. She and Aurora Song, who apparently liked to be called Rory, had been playing phone tag for the past week. Rory sounded nice enough on voicemail, but Sarah had her doubts. Who still needed a roommate, junior year? Rory wasn’t a transfer student, so why wasn’t she living with one of her friends?

  Sarah stopped in front of room 333, raised her hand to knock…and paused at the sound of shotgun fire. A string of expletives and a triumphant holler followed the blasts.

  “You suck!” someone shouted from inside. The voice was high-pitched, yet masculine. “Oh my God, Rory, I hate you!”

  Rory’s reply was muffled and indistinct, but it earned a shrill laugh from the guy. Apparently she did have friends, after all. Sarah squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and rapped twice on the door.

  When it opened, she was face-to-face with an Asian woman dressed in baggy sweats and a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. Rory was only an inch or two shorter than Sarah, and when she smiled, the corners of her mouth dimpled.

  “Hey, you must be Sarah.” She stuck out one hand, and Sarah shook it. “How’s it going?” She gestured into the room, where a lanky guy with bright red hair was lounging on a beanbag chair in front of the television. Which was…fancy. Forty inches, Sarah guessed, and high-definition.

  “That’s Matt,” Rory said, gesturing toward her companion.

  As Matt bounded up to shake her hand in turn, he dropped an Xbox controller onto the chair. “Great to meet you,” he said. “Rory’s just been schooling me at Halo 3. She’s a killing machine!”

  Rory rolled her eyes. “Comforting thing to know about your roommate, huh?” She flipped off the TV and turned back to Sarah. “So. Can we help you with your stuff?”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Sarah said as she dumped her bags on the floor next to the unclaimed desk. Rory’s desk sat directly across the room, and it was already a mess. A computer screen overshadowed stacks of DVDs, papers, and random food products that had not yet found a home. A poster for a French film—something about a city and maybe infants, if Sarah was reading the title correctly—broke up the monotony of the beige walls. She forced a smile to her lips, trying to mask her self-consciousness at how few possessions she owned. “I only have one more trip to make.”

  “A light packer,” Matt said. He elbowed R
ory. “What a concept! It took three people just to lug this freaking TV up here.”

  “It’s a really nice one,” Sarah said.

  “I got lucky,” Rory said, shrugging. “Won it in a commercial competition sponsored by Samsung.”

  Sarah gaped at her. “Whoa. That’s really cool.”

  Matt slung one arm around Rory’s shoulders. “Hollywood’s going to fall at her feet one day.”

  Rory snorted. “No, I’ll be a starving artist falling at your feet, begging for handouts because I’m too poor to pay my landlord.”

  Matt threw back his head and started to sing about not paying this year or any year’s rent, until Rory clapped one hand over his mouth. She grinned at Sarah apologetically. “I know better than to get him started. My bad.”

  Sarah, who had been watching their banter with interest, laughed. “Oh, I don’t mind. I’ve never seen the actual show, but I loved the film.”

  Matt pulled away to give Sarah a bear hug. He looked over his shoulder at Rory. “This one’s a keeper! Don’t piss her off.” In another moment, he was at the door. “And now, I’m outta here—far be it from me to interfere with roommate bondage. I mean, bonding.” He winked. “So great to meet you, Sarah. See you soon.”

  Rory shook her head as he disappeared into the hall. “What a character. The beds are through there, by the way,” she said, pointing. “Is it okay with you that I grabbed top bunk?”

  Sarah took a quick look into the second room. It was narrow and contained only the beds, two battered wooden dressers and a closet. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll be back in a sec—going to grab the rest of my stuff.”

  On her way back from the car, Sarah stopped by the HRL office to pick up her room key. She also received a thick packet of materials, including course descriptions for the fall semester, and a book listing all of the university’s student organizations. Between work and her classes, she didn’t anticipate having much free time, but it would be nice to get involved in a group, if only to make a few friends. Maybe the GLBT organization. Its Web site, when she had Googled it once on Corrie’s computer, had looked promising. And she had seen signs posted in the atrium of the building advertising an open house tonight.

  I wonder if Matt knows anything about it, she mused as she trudged back up the stairs. No way can he be straight. It was encouraging that Rory was friends with him. Sarah had been anxious about how her roommate might react to news of her sexual orientation. She didn’t want to spill the beans just yet, but at least there was hope that Rory wouldn’t completely flip out. Of course, having a gay friend wasn’t exactly on par with living with a lesbian. I’ll wait a few weeks. Get to know her first.

  When she shouldered open the door, Rory was bent over her desk, apparently trying to straighten it up. Her brisk movements were endangering the integrity of her stacks of DVDs, and Sarah kept a wary eye on them in case they began to topple.

  “That’s quite a movie collection you’ve got there,” she said.

  “Oh, thanks.” Rory looked up and grinned. “These are just the ones I can’t live without. I’ve got tons more back home.”

  “Are you a film major?” Sarah asked as she began to unpack her backpack. The laptop went on her desk for now, and the few favorite books that she’d salvaged from her childhood bedroom went on the bookshelf above it.

  “Yep. How about you?’

  “I’m pre-med.”

  “Ah, so you’re the daughter my parents always wanted.”

  Sarah raised her head, startled, but Rory was smiling. “They wanted a doctor and they got the next Stanley Kubrick, if I have any say about it.”

  “Stanley Kubrick?”

  “Film director—made A Clockwork Orange, Lolita, and The Shining, among many others. Pretty much my idol.”

  Sarah reached back into her bag, flustered by her own ignorance. “I’ve never seen any of those,” she admitted.

  “Well,” Rory said, “if you’re ever in the mood to sack out in front of a movie, then I’ve got your poison.”

  “Cool.” Sarah was suddenly envious of Rory’s evident passion for her subject of study. She’d never felt that way about any academic topic. School had always just been there, and she had excelled at it because she’d been expected to.

  As she bent down to open a desk drawer, she noticed the time on her watch. “Oh, jeez. I need to go. To work,” she added, answering Rory’s questioning look.

  “Where do you work?”

  “Billington Cove—the yacht club there.” Sarah patted her front left and back right pockets, feeling for her keys and wallet. “Anyway, it was good to meet you. See you later.”

  “See you.” Rory gave her a little wave and then turned back to her sorting. Sarah’s gaze was drawn to the way Rory’s dark shoulder-length hair curled around the nape of her neck. She shook her head.

  Straight girl. Not to mention your roommate. Knock it off!

  She was just lonely. Which was yet another reason to attend the open house tonight. It would be a good chance to meet people. There were plenty of safe, fun, commitment- and emotion-free ways to find companionship, right? Dar had been her first and only girlfriend, but she’d watched many of her friends at Yale move from hookup to hookup, never settling into a relationship.

  I could do that, she thought as she closed the door behind her, firmly ignoring the ache in her chest that materialized every time she thought about Darla. Sure does beat the alternative.

  *

  The GLBT student center in Adams Hall was already packed with people by the time Sarah arrived, a few minutes before nine p.m. She found space to lean against one wall, just opposite a tattered couch. Sure enough, Matt was there, chatting animatedly with a petite redhead wearing a white sundress that left most of her tan legs visible. Sarah did a double-take as she recognized the woman who had given her the once-over in the parking lot earlier.

  When she found herself staring, she quickly looked away and inspected the room. Rainbow flags and Pride posters covered nearly every inch of white space. Beneath them, shelves packed with books and movies rested against the walls. There was a television in one corner and a small refrigerator in another, with a microwave on top. A huge bowl filled with condoms sat on a small table near the door.

  It was easy to tell the newcomers. Like Sarah, they were standing or sitting quietly, taking in their surroundings and listening to the chatter of their neighbors. Most of the silent ones looked so very young. Freshmen, Sarah realized. God, they look like they belong in middle school.

  “All right, everybody, listen up!” Matt bellowed cheerfully. “Let’s get this party started.” He grinned, and Sarah watched nearly the entire room smile back in return. His enthusiasm was infectious. “I’m Matt, the treasurer of this illustrious organization. This,” he said, pointing at the redheaded woman, “is our heartthrobby—and single, ladies!—president, Chelsea. She’s the top around here.”

  Somebody wolf-whistled. Several people rolled their eyes. Matt favored the room with an exaggerated wink. “Give her a hand, ladies and gentlemen!”

  “Thanks so much, Matt,” Chelsea said dryly. She took a step forward and continued to address the room in a clear, confident voice. She was unarguably beautiful, and Sarah watched several of the women in the room eye her with undisguised appreciation.

  “To those of you back for another year, it’s great to see you again. And to those who are new, welcome. I’d like to start this meeting by having everyone introduce themselves, and then we’ll move on to announcements.”

  When it was her turn, Sarah described herself simply as a pre-med transfer student. She felt a momentary spike of anxiety that someone would ask her where she’d transferred from, but the introductions continued around the room without a pause. What are you afraid of, anyway? They’ll think you failed out, sure, but so what? Sarah looked down at her toes, tan against the black straps of her Tevas. Why couldn’t she stop caring about what other people thought? Everything would be so much easier.<
br />
  Up in the front of the room, Chelsea was again taking control. “The pizza will be here soon”—she smiled benevolently when a raucous cheer went up from several corners—“so I’ll make these announcements brief. We have conversation groups every Monday and Thursday at nine. Come, hang out, chat with each other about anything and everything. Also, save the date—we’ll be holding our annual formal on the Friday after Valentine’s Day. I know that’s still a long way off, but it’s our biggest event of the year, so next week I’ll be sending around a dance committee sign-up sheet.”

  “And last but certainly not least, GLAD—Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders—is looking for student volunteers for their voting campaign. As many of you probably know, there’s going to be a referendum in the spring on the proposed amendment to define marriage as between one man and one woman, and to ban the creation of civil unions.” Chelsea paused for the chorus of boos. “Exactly. If you’re interested in helping them, come see me after the meeting. I’ve got their contact information.”

  She looked over to the door, where Matt was paying for several boxes of pizza. “That’s all for now. Enjoy, and remember to sign up to be on our e-mail list if you haven’t already.”

  Sarah hung back as most of the room descended on the food. Chelsea’s last piece of news, the bit about GLAD, had intrigued her. It would feel good to volunteer a bit, if she could find the time. Especially for such an important cause. Maybe if the vote in the spring passed, her parents would realize that being queer wasn’t such a big deal—that it was just a part of her, like her eye color or her height. How could they continue to reject her if legally, Rhode Island accepted her? Suddenly resolved, she made her way over to where Chelsea was talking with another woman and waited. But before she could catch Chelsea’s attention, someone came up behind her and clapped a hand on her shoulder.

  “Sarah! Really good to see you.”

  “Hey, Matt,” she said, turning around. She felt a sudden compulsion to beg him not to tell Rory, and had to clench her teeth against the impulse. “So—treasurer, huh?”