Page 10 of Snowballed

“We broke up.”

My girlfriend has been a freaking saint all summer. I have no money, no car, and as Chi just pointed out, a negative attitude, but Lauren never complained. However, she’s the one who suggested that a coast-to-coast relationship would be too hard.

“Oh, sorry. Are you upset about that too?” Chi asks, like I have a long list of things bothering me.

To be honest, I feel relieved. Not being able to take Lauren out in our usual way made me feel guilty. She was great about staying in and watching movies in our home theatre, but it wasn’t the same as going out. And having so much unstructured time to talk made me realize that we didn’t have as much in common as I thought.

Besides, Lauren took my decision to transfer personally. She thought going to Vermont meant I wanted to get away from her. But telling her that I never even considered her in my decision would have been worse. I can’t explain how I made one spontaneous decision and it’s snowballed into this huge deal.

“It’s fine,” I say.

Chi accepts this and moves on. She points to a stack of clothes with her toe. “Seriously, you don’t need that many pairs of shorts. It’s probably going to be snowing when you land.”

“Funny.” While it’s true that I grew up in California and then went to school in the desert, I know winter. My other grandparents live in Denver, and I’ve been to hockey tournaments. True, I’ve neverlivedanywhere with a real winter.

Bachan enters the room with my clean laundry. She eyes the pile of T-shirts. “You need warmer clothes. My friend lives in New Jersey. She’s always telling me how cold it is up there.”

“That’s what I told him,” Chi says.

I know they mean well, but I wish they would stop. I’m having enough second thoughts without knowing Mother Nature’s going to be kicking my ass. But maybe I should appreciate their concern. Nobody else cares. And Adam is so busy now, I never get to see him. I’m not sure whose side my mom is really on, but my parents present a unified front, so she won’t break ranks. She did slip me some cash before she left, so I know she’s worried about my finances.

“I still don’t understand how you managed to charm your way into living rent-free,” says Chi.

“I’m supposed to do work on the farm in exchange for room and board,” I explain.

“What kind of farm work?” Chi asks.

“I’m not sure. Denise Meyers said it’s a hobby farm. They have goats, pigs, chickens, and a big garden. But in the winter, there’s less garden stuff, of course.”

Bachan sucks in a breath. “You’ve never done any gardening or housework here. How can you do farm work?”

“How hard could it be?” I ask.

Both Bachan and Chi laugh in response.

I stretch once I get off the plane in Burlington. My flights were brutal. I took the red eye from L.A. to Charlotte, then after a two-hour layover, flew here. It’s the early afternoon, but I feel completely out of sync. I could use another eight hours of sleep—this time stretched out in a real bed. Denise Meyers offered to pick me up at the airport, and now I realize I don’t know what she looks like. But the terminal turns out to be so tiny, I’m sure I’ll be able to find her. I walk over to the lone baggage carousel to wait.

“Hey, are you Noah Goodwin?” a cheery voice says.

I turn around. She’s my age, tall with dirty blonde hair and a smile so wide it looks fake. Why is she so happy?

“Yes,” I say.

My acknowledgement is like a starting gun. She holds out her hand. “Welcome to Burlington. I’m Zoe Meyers. You’ve been corresponding with my mom, but she had to work today, so I’m here to pick you up. I hope your flight was okay, oh, I meanflightsbecause I know you came all the way from L.A., so you must have had three or four transfers, right? Anyway, once your bags get here, I’ll drive you home, but first I thought we’d do a tour of Burlington. I can show you the campus and the town. Or have you already toured the area?”

I look at her in awe. How does someone talk that much without taking a breath? Maybe she’s a swimmer or scuba diver because she looks athletic enough. Then I remember she asked me a question.

“No. I’ve never even been here before.”

“Oh really? That’s wild. I mean, you’re moving here to a completely new place, a new school, and a new hockey team. That’s pretty ballsy. I wish I was as courageous as you. It’s like we’re polar opposites. I’m still living at home and going to a school that’s only fifteen minutes from the farm. But we’re not really opposites because we have hockey in common. I play for Moo U too. Obviously on the women’s team. But I play defense, same as you.”

She pauses again. Concentrating on her word vomit is giving me a headache. “Is there a Starbucks in the terminal?” I ask.

“No. There’s only a Skinny Pancake. But we can get you a coffee on the way home. There are some amazing coffee places in Burlington that source their beans from small tropical farms and then roast them right here. The Green Bean is the coffee bar of choice on campus. If that doesn’t suit you, then we could go to Scout or Uncommon instead. I’m not sure if you’ve had lunch or not. If you’re hungry, we could go home, and I’ll make you a snack. Or pizza, if you like pizza. But who doesn’t like pizza?”

Whatever a Skinny Pancake is. I rub my temple. She’s like a chipmunk on crack, and I’m not sure how much more I can take.

“Do you have an off-switch?” I ask.

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