Chapter Five Maya

Chapter Five

Maya

October 2010, sophomore year

A mist swept down over the fiery autumn landscape as the two-car Dinky train trundled toward the university. I sat pressed against the window, pinned by the large duffel bag the man next to me had stuffed in between us.

I was anxious about the upcoming school year: I wasn’t the most outgoing person in the world, and my thoughts didn’t easily flow into conversation. Most of my life, I’d been quiet and awkward, preferring reading in the library to trying to make friends.

But I’d spent the summer waiting tables, and I was excited to learn again, excited to have determined my major—economics. I liked the sound of it. It sounded important, sophisticated. Things I was not.

As my breath fogged up the window, I caught a glimpse of my reflection—my glasses, built for a more angular face, my dark, gently curved eyes and flat-ironed hair. Over the years, I’d begun to look more and more like my Chinese mother—though my full lips and high forehead reminded me of my African American father, who’d passed away when I was a kid.

I was nine and a half at the time, and what I remembered most about him was the way he’d listen to R I wasn’t brave enough to be untethered. I wanted more than anything to belong to something, to find a place in this world, even if I didn’t yet know where that would be.

—

After getting dressed, I made my way past quadrangle Club or “Quad,” the eating club Jeff Bezos had attended where B.o.B was playing to a cheering crowd, past the plush lawn of Tiger Inn, where tall shirtless waterpolo players had set up tables with beer pong, and Colonial, where a skinny guy with glasses hung from a zip line, aiming his body for an inflatable pool. It was like each of these students had been sorted into their perfect club.

—

Cottage was set back from the street past an iron gate. It towered above the others, all red brick, white trim, and Georgian symmetry. A long line of students spilled out the front door.

Pulling out my phone, I tried calling Taylor. No answer.

An hour later, I finally made it to the front of the line and saw Taylor and her friends dancing in the distance, red cups swaying overhead.

“Name and ID.” A stern bouncer towered over me, holding a clipboard.

“Uh, yeah, here.” I fished my Princeton ID out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Maya Mason.” I was thinking of what to do when I walked in. Would I go up to Taylor and throw my arms around her like we were good friends? Or casually get two beers and hand her one?

“You’re not on the list.” The bouncer looked up from the clipboard, shaking his head.

“Oh, my friend Taylor said she’d put me on. She’s right there. Let me just—” I tried to move around him to get Taylor’s attention, but his large torso blocked my path.

“Ma’am. You’re not on the list,” he said before gesturing to the group of girls behind me. “Next.”

I stepped onto the front lawn to call Taylor. Hello, you’ve reached Taylor Little, please leave a message.

A group of rowdy football players hung out of an upstairs window. One of them, I recognized.

“Alex! Hi,” I called out, waving. He looked down at me with a smirk before turning back to his friend. “I’m not sure if you remember me,” I said, “but we went to Sacred Heart together? I’m Taylor Little’s friend?” Please don’t ignore me.

“Oh yeah, what’s up?” Alex shouted, and his friends laughed and slapped him on the back.

“Yeah, hi! So, uh, Taylor said she put me on the list? But they’re giving me a little trouble. Could you go downstairs and get her? I think there must have been a mix-up or something—”

“You wanna come in?” another guy yelled from the window.

“Oh yes! That would be amazing.”

“Come here,” Alex’s friend said. “If you catch this in your mouth, we’ll let you in.”

Alex’s friend extended a bottle of champagne out the window. I made my way to the window, standing directly below.

“Ready?” he yelled.

I took a breath, tilted my head back, and opened my mouth. Champagne poured onto my tongue. The guys in the window whooped. “ Ha! She did it.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and grinned. I might have been sticky with champagne, but I felt cool as hell.

“All right, that was too easy,” Alex said. “Let me do it.”

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes again, but this time nothing happened. I heard stifled laughter up above, and when I opened my eyes, a torrent of beer poured all over me.

“What the hell?” I shouted, ducking out of the way as the guys emptied the rest of the pitcher.

“Oops, sorry, it slipped,” Alex said. His friends slapped him on the back and hollered.

My hair and dress were soaked. Behind me, a group of sorority girls pointed and whispered, everyone in line staring.

Resisting the urge to sprint away in embarrassment, I turned around and walked away from the club. When I looked back, Taylor was standing in the upstairs window. Our eyes met and she quickly looked away, not moving from where she stood tucked under Alex’s arm. Really, Taylor?

Tears stung my eyes as I pushed through the crowd. I wanted to turn around and yell at all of them, but the pain in my chest was too severe.

Once I was clear, I ran away from Cottage and onto the street, slipping off my heels and running barefoot until my feet stung, tiny rocks cutting into the soles until they bled.