5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lou

You can be whoever you want to be.

Wes’ words echo in my mind as Stella and I make our way round the remaining booths. As dumb as it sounds, his simple concept has never once crossed my mind. After high school’s isolation, I simply resigned myself to the fact that I will always be the one who doesn’t fit in. But what if that person was simply the high school version of myself? What if thereis a version of myself who finally finds her group? A version of myself who finally finds her people?

The thought sparks a light in my chest and suddenly I’m looking at the students bustling around me in a whole different light. Instead of tacky neon posters and students dividing into cliques and clubs, a sea of multi-faceted individuals take their place. Individuals, who like Stella, aren’t subjecting themselves to one sole membership.

I can’t believe I never noticed this before.

Looking across the booths, I see a girl with brown braids and glasses chatting amiably with a sorority spokesperson. The Delta member is a gorgeous, plus-sized black girl, whose cackle can be heard from across the room. From my vantage point, the two girls look like polar opposites in looks and personalities, yet the one with braids happily throws her email down and snags a brochure on the way out. Had this been high school, there is no way either party would have spoken to the other, let alone been Greek sisters.

As Stella and I finish our last booth, a thread of fear weaves inside me. Grabbing my roommate’s hand to stop her from heading to the exit, I fretfully ask my new friend a favour, “I know we’ve been here a couple hours… but maybe we could do a quick re-tour? A super quick one, I promise. It’s just… I’ve decided there’s a few clubs I want to join.”

I hold my breath, desperately hoping she won’t be angry. Worst case, I can always venture out on my own. Probably. Maybe.

Thankfully, I don’t have to worry for long because the smile that cracks across Stella’s face is as bright as a beam of sunshine. “I thought you’d never ask! Not going to lie, we were going to keep doing laps until you signed up for at least one.”

A wave of relief washes through me and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.

I would love to say my change of heart had me signing up for clubs left, right, and centre like my vivacious roommate, but that wasn’t the case. My social anxiety didn’t just disappear with one pep talk, but it did calm down to varying degrees. By the end of our second go-round, I gave my email to no fewer than four booths. One of them being my beloved Punk Rockers. It’s not quite the running leap I had in mind, but it’s a step. A small one, but one in the right direction.

Stella and I are finishing the day off with dinner at Taber’s cafeteria when my roommate tries to kill me. “Did you and Wes find a corner to make out in when you two disappeared today?”

The bite of poutine I was in the middle of swallowing changes direction and goes straight into my windpipe. I start hacking, and with a few back slaps from Stella, the fry frees itself from my airway. I gasp with relief, sucking precious oxygen back into my lungs.

“We did NOT make out. When we got separated, I was having a moment and Wes was nice enough to comfort me.”

“Would have been nicer if his tongue was down your throat.” I throw a fry at Stella’s smirking face.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. We’re friends, that’s all.” A perfectly shaped eyebrow cocks at me. Ugh. Bad word choice.

“Oh, so you’re friends now? I thought he was irritating.”

“He was! I mean he is. Irritating.” I wince, hearing how weak that sounded. I try again, “Look, Wes annoys me with his sparkling green eyes and flirty tendencies, but otherwise he’s a good friend. He didn’t need to give me a hug today in the middle of the foyer, but he did. I think that qualifies as solid friend points.” Stella’s mouth drops open.

“Hold up. First off, you literally listed his attractiveness as his only flaw. Second, why did you not tell me before now you two hugged?! This is the stuff I live for. And third, what triggered the hug? I feel like I’m missing the whole puzzle at this point.”

I sigh, willing myself to open up. Pick the version you want, Trip.

“I’m sure you noticed I get a little… hesitant to join things.” The kindness in Stella’s eyes encourages me to continue. “High school was tough for me. Really tough. By second semester of tenth grade, I was counting down the days until graduation. The cliques at my school were brutally exclusive and I didn’t belong to any of them. Any time I tried out for a team or joined a club, I was ignored. Doesn’t sound so bad, but when you’re a teen struggling with acne and hormones, the inability to fit in feels like the end of the world. And now… well, I guess a part of me is scared Taber will turn into a second round of high school.”

Nothing like dumping three years of teenage angst onto my new roommate while she eats her grilled chicken and spinach salad. Can we get the cheque please?

“Oh, Lou. I am so sorry that happened to you. The kids at your school sound like dicks, no offence.”

I laugh, “None taken.”

Reaching across the table to grab a hold of my hand, Stella stares intently at me. Dark blue eyes meet my grey. “I promise university is going to be different. I’m new here as well, and together we will make the most of it. There are no cliques at university, maybe a few bromances on the varsity teams, but even those guys aren’t so bad. Look at your Wes. Or Cody.”

“He’s not my Wes. Wait, Cody’s on the lacrosse team as well?”

Stella nods, “He’s team captain this year. Played with my older brother last year and now they’re the best of friends.” Rolling her eyes, she diverts the conversation back to reassurance.

“My point is you don’t have to hold back at Taber. You can try as much or as little as you want.” Giving my hands a squeeze, she sits back in her chair.

“You can be anyone you want here, Lou. No one is going to judge you.”

The similarities between Stella’s pep talk and the one Wes gave me earlier is enough to give me goosebumps. There must be something in the air because I’ve never known so many young adults so full of wisdom. Not that I know that many young adults, but still. Creepy.

“Thank you, Stella. Now, one last question before we hit the dessert table.” Eyeing up my admittedly unbalanced dinner, Stella waves a hand for me to continue.

“Do you have to look like an Abercrombie model to be a varsity athlete or is it only the lacrosse team?” A playful smile spreads across Stella’s face.

“Now that my dear Lou, is a question I’mdying to know the answer to.”

Wes

You know when you have a question about a person you don’t want to talk about so you end up asking about a different person hoping it will eventually come back around to the one you actually want to talk about? A complicated process, I know, but luckily stealth and subtly are my specialty.

Like any veteran, I make sure all factors are taken into consideration.

Location? Check. Weight room with the team. Nothing like a testosterone pump to get a conversation going.

Target? Check. Cody is making his way over to the dumbbell rack, which is next to the bench press, where Nico and I are currently stationed.

Damn I’m good.

“Hey Cap, what’s the deal between you and Stella?”

Stopping mid-bend on his way to the heavier weights, Cody straightens and looks me dead in the eye. “What’s the deal between you and Trip, Wes?”

Shot down before I step on the battlefield.

I take a second to help Nico lift the barbell off the rack. “Oh you know… anyways, I was just wondering whether you think Trip likes me.” I hear laughter splutter from the bench beneath me and see Cody’s lips start to twitch.

Shit. I’m not living this one down any time soon.

“When you say like do you mean… like or like like you?” Nico sounds like he’s having a full-on asthma attack by this point, so I make no effort to help restack the barbell. The laughing traitor can do it himself.

I know Cody’s taking the piss out of me, but the fact he’s managed to keep a semi-straight face throughout this exchange is something I can’t help but admire. The guy’s either got the best self-control or some seriously strong face muscles. My bet’s on both.

“Ha-ha. What I mean is… do you think Trip sees me as a friend? I joke around with her a lot, and I just want to make sure I don’t come off as a total douchebag.” It was the look of surprise that got me. The fact Trip genuinely seemed shocked I am capable of being a nice guy hurt more than I care to admit.

Cody falls silent while I finally relieve Nico of the bar. I look up to find him staring thoughtfully at me. He nods to the dumbbell rack, and I head over, getting a slap on the ass from Nico.

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll always love you. Total douchebag and all.” I flip him off and approach my captain, suddenly nervous of what I’m about to hear.

“I didn’t think you came off as rude, Wes.” I sag in relief. “I thought you were your usual cocky-as-hell, charming self. But if it’s really bothering you, then you should ask her yourself. The most honest answer will always come from the source.”

No wonder my sneak attack was a failure. The man is white Gandhi.

“Thanks, Cap. I appreciate the input.” Cody slaps me on the back and bends down to pick up his dumbbells.

“Anytime, Wes. I hope you find out whether Trip likes you or not.”

I’m cruising like a newborn sailor through my first week of classes when Friday decides to drop the anchor in the form of Professor Lee Anderson.

“Some of you are here today because this course is mandatory. Others chose Intro to Psychology as an easy way to check off their science requirement. Is that correct?”

The crisp voice echoes through the auditorium, drawing chuckles and sheepish nods from students. Between the tight suit, polished shoes, and sweet looking goatee; Anderson looks more like an investment broker than a psych prof. As a business student myself, that fact should give me a sense of companionship with the man pacing the floor, yet for some reason it puts me on edge. Call it foreshadowing.

“Well, I’m here to tell you that either way, this course will not be a GPA booster. In fact, I’d be surprised if most of you walk away from this class with a B, never mind an A. In the world of science, there is no such thing as excellence. Brilliant minds spend years analyzing the same data over and over for the sake of research, and still they come up short. The simple truth of the matter is: life isn’t fair. Therefore, I’m taking it upon myself to be the first professor to treat you students how real scientists are treated: with much criticism and little reward. You will be asked to review work; you will be asked to redo work. Most of you will hopefully attain the satisfactory level, a few of you may even hit the exemplary level. But one thing I can promise you is none of you will achieve the excellence level. And that is the greatest lesson I can give you.” Taking a pause to drink water, Anderson sweeps his gaze around the room. I fight the urge to flinch when his gaze lands on mine.

Full disclosure: I’m one of those students who took this class because I thought it would be the easiest choice for my science requirement. Bio, chem, and physics require way too much effort so that left the choice of geology or psychology. And come on, serial killer documentaries versus rock formations? It’s a no brainer.

“If you are unable to handle my grading mindset, then you are welcome to drop the class. Those of you who choose to stay, however, will undergo such growth and development that your perspective of this fine institution may change, perhaps even your perspective of the world.”

The hot brunette I was chatting up earlier shifts her laptop so I can see the screen. All geology classes for this semester are full, leaving only the main three sciences as remaining options. Each with an additional three-hour lab, and in the case of physics, a one-hour tutoring session on top.

Fuck. I should have given those minerals a chance.

“Today we will begin by taking a look at-

BANG! The auditorium door flies open and a frazzled looking girl stumbles in, arms overflowing with textbooks and a box that suspiciously looks like the cafeteria’s unbelievable poutine. The golden streaks highlighting the chestnut hair are a dead giveaway as I watch my favourite pack mule juggle her way to an empty seat in the front row. Catching Trip’s eye, I blow her a kiss and grin at the scowl I get in return.

This class just got a little bit more interesting.