ONE Jessie

ONE

Jessie

The Hartceller Bugle

Letter from the dean:

As part of our ongoing commitment to grow Hartceller University into a STEM center of excellence, I'm thrilled to announce that the Buildings Department will begin a one-year restoration project in the Hartceller University Library. After many decades of neglect, we will finally be able to convert the Davidson Tower Reading Room into a state-of-the-art computer and technology center. Our goal is to preserve the architecture and revive it to its former glory prior to the fire damage it sustained in 1972.

Jessie Ahuja was attending Hartceller for one reason and one reason only: to become an engineer. Her father had given her the love of taking things apart and putting them back together again, of programming and building something from nothing. And now she was going to make a career out of it.

That was her hope, anyway.

And because there was zero room for failure, she had absolutely no time for parties.

But here she was, the last night of her first-year college orientation, at the Hartceller University South Asian Association get-together. It hadn't even been three days since she moved to campus, and already she was breaking the promise she had made to herself by standing in a frat house decorated like the set of a nineties college sitcom. She should have been studying for her first week of classes, but no.

She was socializing instead.

She scanned the crowd, hoping that no one could tell that she was unenthusiastic about her current predicament. Just like scenes from movies, books, and the random social-media clips that popped up on her feeds, the Alpha Beta Whatever house was poorly lit, with a mismatched collection of curbside furniture and Grandma's basement rejects. There was a TV that took up most of the far wall and a mottled green carpet that needed a good wash. The tables and chairs were a mix of dorm furniture and IKEA finds, and there were paisley and tie-dye tapestries pinned to the wall. A sign welcoming the incoming South Asian students hung across the front windows.

And there were way too many South Asians crammed inside.

At least forty were standing close together in the small living room, and even more were in the kitchen. Jessie was used to seeing this much melanin in one place—she came from a huge Desi community in Houston, Texas—but she'd never seen this many brown people her age gathered together, outside of a wedding.

Realistically, she knew that parties like this happened all the time. But she'd been too busy going to school or working at the family sandwich shop or her friend's father's gas station to attend any.

"This is fun, right?" Tanvi said.

"I mean, I guess."

Tanvi was the one who convinced her to come, and because Jessie liked Tanvi, she hadn't put up too much of a fight. In the three days she'd known her new roommate, she could see Tanvi was a naturally organized and tidy soul, based on her aesthetic desk setup and matching accessories. More importantly, she was in the fast-track six-year medical program, which meant she was going to be just as busy as Jessie would be.

"It's important to get out and have college experiences," Tanvi said as she pushed her shiny black waves over her shoulder. She braved the drink table to her left, reached into a plastic tub, and pulled out two cans, one of which she handed to Jessie. "We'll be drowning in homework, labs, and work-study jobs starting tomorrow."

"I just don't see how this is an important experience," Jessie said. She passed the wet can from hand to hand, then wiped her palms against her jeans. She didn't even want to think about the dirty drinks ice-bath water that was now on her clothes.

"We're building our community," Tanvi argued. "And who knows? Maybe someone's rich dad has an internship thing that we could apply for during summer."

"Now you're talking," Jessie said dryly. She tapped her drink against Tanvi's, and they popped their tabs in unison.

She took a sip and pursed her lips. The soda was still lukewarm.

Jessie sighed. At least the South Asian Association had sprung for the name-brand stuff. Someone had told her they had a huge budget for events. Of course, when she considered the small table with two discarded pizza boxes and the soda bucket, she was sure that the upper-class students had used most of the budget for the alcohol they hid in the back for themselves.

"I wonder if Ravi Kumar is going to be here," Tanvi said as she stood on her toes and scanned the living room. She motioned to Jessie's simple V-neck T-shirt and her own corset top. "Not that he would pay us any attention as freshmen."

"Is that someone from your high school?"

Tanvi's eyes went wide. "You're kidding me, right? You don't know Ravi Kumar?"

Jessie took another sip before she spoke. "Guilty."

"His family is legendary in the tech industry. His grandfather was on the executive R and D team with Bill Gates, and his father, Neeraj Kumar, is currently on the board of Bharat Inc., the software company. He created GoGet, the VPN software that all the major corporations use. Then there's Ravi's brother, who launched a start-up when he was still at MIT."

Jessie shrugged. "If his father and brother are the ones who are famous, why do I care about Ravi Kumar?"

"Because he's gorgeous and loaded, and from what I've read, a really nice guy. Everyone on campus seems to love him."

"At least that's something," Jessie said.

She'd be lying if she said that she didn't know about the Kumar legacy. Especially since GoGet was one of the companies that she hoped to one day work for.

There was a loud shout that interrupted her thoughts, and someone held up a speaker over their head from the corner of the living room. Bollywood music began blasting through the house. The heavy drumbeat ricocheted off the paper-thin walls.

And like the cliché they all were, people pushed the rickety coffee table out of the way; the sagging, dingy sofa to the side; and made room for a dance floor.

"Oh my god, I love this song," Tanvi squealed. She gestured toward the group of people who had already filled up the empty space. "This is amazing!"

"Why don't you go dance?" Jessie said.

"Come with me!" She tugged on Jessie's arm.

Jessie shook her head. "The last time I danced was when I had a recital in middle school," she said over the increasing volume. "Look, there are a few people from our orientation session this morning."

The two familiar students were in the middle of the floor, jumping up and down on the bowing hardwood. Jessie couldn't remember what their names were, but she doubted they remembered hers, either.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Tanvi asked.

"Absolutely. You can leave your Coke with me if you want."

Tanvi shook her head. "I got it. Thank you!" She then waved at their orientation classmates and gestured if she could dance with them. They motioned her over, and as if she were a fish on a line, she danced through the sea of bodies that had come together in the span of seconds. They waved their hands over their heads and moved to the beat of whatever Bollywood song was playing over the speaker. The air became thick and warm as more and more people began to join, pressing close. Arms were draped over shoulders, and red Solo cups were passed from hand to hand with mysterious purple and brown liquid inside.

Jessie didn't mind staying on the outer perimeter of the crowd. She preferred being left alone; it usually meant she could focus on her work.

But if her parents could see her now, they would be so happy. They always told her she was too serious, and they wanted her to make friends. She wasn't going to tell them that watching them work fourteen-hour days seven days a week was the reason she was determined to work just as hard.

She felt her phone alarm buzz in her back pocket and knew that was her cue to leave. With her part-time job in the student center and her stacked schedule of classes, she needed to get some sleep.

And Tanvi wasn't going to miss her, anyway. There was a group chorus now, and the South Asian Student Association mixer attendees were singing along to the next Bollywood song that she didn't know.

Looking around the room one last time, Jessie heard Hindi blended with Gujarati blended with Punjabi and Urdu and Malayali and Tamil back into English. She was sure there were other languages that she couldn't decipher.

She thought about Tanvi's earlier question. If she was being honest, yeah, this was fun. But she wasn't at Hartceller University to have fun.

"Time to go," she whispered to herself as she took one last sip from her can. She eyed the front door, but there were more people pouring inside, blocking her exit. She turned to the left and found a doorway that led to the kitchen. Bingo.

She motioned to Tanvi and waited until her roommate caught her eye. Then Jessie pointed to the kitchen and waved. Tanvi gave her a thumbs-up and made a "call me" gesture with her hand.

Text me when you get back,she mouthed.

Jessie nodded, then began her journey to the door. She mumbled an Excuse me to the two girls who were talking in front of her, then squeezed past another group of upper-class students in deep discussion about a professor. She smelled cologne and perfume, the soft stink of sweat and hair spray. She felt the brush of cotton and satin and synthetic fabric against her skin before she finally reached the kitchen.

There were more drinks here, and towering boxes of pizza that had already been raided and discarded. The few people drinking and standing around the kitchen island cart smiled in her direction, and she did her best to smile back as she reached the squeaky porch door. Without another glance, she pulled it open and stepped outside.

Jessie took a deep breath of the night air, polluted with the light stench of vaping, weed, and booze. There were clusters of people dancing and talking out here, too. She could hear someone laugh in the darkness from somewhere in the yard. There was a fence, and more Greek houses on either side.

Thankfully, no one paid her any attention as she descended the short flight of stairs and walked around the side of the house. She eyed the gate and the dark alley in front of her before she decided to risk the danger factor.

With an obnoxious squeak that could wake the dead, the latch lifted, and she pulled the gate open, stepping cautiously into the shadows. She saw the streetlight in the distance, guiding her toward her destination.

Jessie took two tentative steps before she met a wave of noxious garbage stink and her foot landed perilously close to something that was probably dog poop. "Gross," she muttered under her breath, then kept walking.

Just as she was about to exit the alley and step out onto the front lawn, she ran right into a solid chest.

Jessie stumbled back as she felt the unfamiliar touch of the stranger's hands at her waist. They were strong and firm, with fingers pressing into the softness at her midsection even as the grip kept her on her feet. She recognized his height next. His lean frame was much taller than her five foot five. He also smelled like a heady combination of smoke and cologne. This was different from the scent that permeated the air inside the house. No, this combination was ... interesting.

"Are you okay?"

She couldn't make out the features of the person talking to her, but they were close enough for her to hear his voice. He had an accent. West Coast. Wealthy boarding- or prep-school education. She had gone to a charter high school on scholarship. She knew the type. Jessie immediately took a step back.

"I'm fine," she said. "Excuse me."

She tried to shift out of the way and cross the lawn, but he blocked her path.

For the first time that night, she felt a trickle of fear. She couldn't see this person because of the shadows, which only caused her heart to beat faster.

"You're not leaving by yourself, are you? Do you have a friend that can walk with you?"

The question sounded sincere, but she wasn't sure if he was just angling to walk her home. The university was like a small city of its own. There were fifteen thousand students, many of whom were housed in multistory buildings throughout the small downtown. Then there were rows of shops, restaurants, and houses that surrounded a train station that had a direct line to New York City. It was unlike Jessie's home in Texas where she had to drive everywhere, but she could manage without help.

"I'm fine. I'm only three blocks up to the left."

She could barely tell by the outline of his shoulders that he'd relaxed. "The freshman dorm tower. I can walk with you if you want. It's not safe at night."

"I'm fine," she said again.

"Okay," he said. Then she heard the familiar click of a vape pen and saw the small red light on the LED screen. When he exhaled, he perfumed the air with a sickeningly sweet scent.

She found it odd that he was standing in the dark alley next to the frat house by himself when most smokers she knew preferred to huddle together in front of buildings where they all talked about their favorite vape flavors and their plans to quit within the next few months.

During the summers when she worked at her friend's father's gas station at night for extra cash, she had become very familiar with the type of kids who vaped and smoked, and she resented how easy it was for them to burn money on something that burned their lungs. Maybe it was bitchy of her to cast judgment over an entire population of people, but she hadn't met anyone who'd proven her wrong.

Before Jessie could stop herself, she blurted out, "You know that's bad for you, right?"

She heard his chuckle and hated that she actually enjoyed the sound. It was deep and complex and held a thousand worldly thoughts that made her feel immature for asking her question.

"Only first-year students are so buttoned-up about vices," he replied, then let out another throaty chuckle. "Don't worry, you'll change. They all do."

"I won't," she said, trying to ignore the low tone of his voice. "At least not when it comes to smoking."

"Vaping."

"Yeah, that's just as bad as smoking. Studies have shown that it's even more addictive."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

Embarrassment gripped the base of her neck.

Hartceller University was a private institution filled with students whose parents had deep pockets. Most of the South Asians were descended from the first big wave that came into the country in the 1960s and 1970s who had immigrated with starter capital and the time to build wealth. Then there were the immigrant children with rich parents and family they visited regularly in India. They could afford to be here.

Then there were her parents, who immigrated the year she was born out of necessity.

Money and roots set her apart, especially from the person standing in front of her.

"I'm gonna go," she said. She should've just stayed in her room and studied. Now she was just going to dissect every word she'd said for the next two hours before she continued fake arguing with this man in her head.

"That's probably a good idea," he replied.

Her steps faltered. "Excuse me?"

In the shadows, she could make out his shrug. "What's the point in staying in a place if you're not going to enjoy yourself?"

"No, it's not that," she said defensively. "I had a good time, but now I'm going to go home. It's my choice." She had no idea why she felt the need to explain herself. She didn't even know this person, but his judgment rubbed her the wrong way.

"Ahh," the stranger said. "A ‘pick me' girl. I see it now."

"That's good, because I can't see anything," Jessie said dryly. She crossed her arms over her chest. "And I have no idea what you're talking about."

He took another long drag from his vape pen. "You know, a ‘pick me' girl. The kind that thinks they're better than the rest of us South Asians."

"What? I don't think that at all." She didn't know why she was arguing about her character with someone who obviously didn't know anything about her.

"Is the music too Desi for you or something?" he taunted. "The drinking and smoking really that bad? Or is it the fact that we aren't all studying right now and in bed by nine?"

He'd labeled her so efficiently, so accurately, that she backed up a full step. Why did he make her dedication, her commitment sound like such a bad thing? What was the alternative? Failing at her dreams in an effort to fit into a scene that made her feel like an oddball?

There was the sound of conversation behind them, and then the slam of the screen door.

"I have to go," she said again. "I have class then work in the morning." Not that she needed to explain herself, she thought. But it was too late now. The words had come tumbling out of her mouth, as if her thudding heart had a mind of its own.

There was a flicker of red, the richness of smoke, mixed with the musky cologne again. How she noticed his scent over the stink of the garbage in the alley only surprised her.

"You should text your friends," he said. "Or get on the phone with someone. Like I said. This part of town isn't exactly safe to be walking alone at night."

She didn't know what to do with his advice or his alleged concern, but she lifted her phone and waved it in the air as if to show him that she was being safe. The light from her screen illuminated his face, and for the first time, she got a glimpse of the man she'd been talking to.

Perfect bone structure. Thick black brows, and deep brown skin.

"Hey, watch where you're waving that thing," he said, holding up a hand to block her light. "If you wanted to know if I was Ravi Kumar, you could've just asked."

Ravi Kumar.

So this was the tech genius's son. The one that Tanvi had told her about.

He turned his head when someone called his name from the front entrance. "Be right there!" he called out.

Jessie didn't know what else she could say. How was she supposed to act in front of someone that people expected her to respect just because of who he was related to?

Without another word, Jessie sidestepped him and headed toward the street. Then she made a left at the corner onto Main without looking back. She saw her dorm in the distance, two nondescript brown towers next to the student center. With her key-card wallet gripped in one hand and her phone in the other, she quickly made her way up the sidewalk, away from Greek Row.

Her conversation with Ravi Kumar repeated on a loop in her head—just like she knew it would—as she passed empty storefronts, blown-out streetlights, and clusters of strangers leaning against their cars.

There was something about his warning that quickened her pace.

It wasn't until she reached the front of her building that she finally took a deep breath. She scanned her key card next to the door and pulled the handle. That's when she looked over her shoulder. A block back, she made out a figure standing under one of the few working streetlights. Smoke shimmered in a delicate tendril under the yellow glow. The barest hint of a red LED light.

Jessie shook her head. There was no way it was who she thought it could be. She strode into her building, determined to push the memory of the night out of her mind and focus on her first day of college.