Page 27 of My Roommate from Hell
“Hey,” I say. “Do you have any advice?”
“About what?”
“Meeting people.”
He ponders that for a moment. “Just be yourself, and the right people will come to you.”
I don’t think that’ll work, but I still say thanks.
Zarmenus nods, then returns his focus to his phone, ending the conversation. It’s time to go, anyway. As he’s distracted with his phone, I find myself absent-mindedly checking him out. I can’t help it, he’s the kind of jacked that means he could model for Calvin Klein.
I grab my keys and shove them in my pocket.
“See ya,” I say.
“Have fun.”
“You too.”
I leave our room. I’m sure I’m overthinking tonight, because I overthink everything. I should be more like Zarmenus. He doesn’tseem to care about things, at least not in the doom spiral-y way that I do. I could learn from him.
As I leave Clark Hall, I take a picture of myself and send it to Ashley.
About to be social, wish me luck!
A few seconds later, my phone buzzes.
You’ve got this! Also: you look CUTE!
She’s right, I do have this. As scary as an event by myself is, I’m not going to make any friends if I stay in my room all the time. I’ve got to put myself out there, and tonight is the perfect time to do so. I still remember during high school it always felt like the first week or so was when groups would shift and people would make new friends, but once the year was underway people rarely branched out. That’s happening here, and if I don’t act, I’ll spend the rest of the semester eating lunch by myself, or maybe with Zarmenus if we manage to work out some roommate equilibrium.
I reach the entrance to the carnival and take it all in. It’s a lot bigger and more impressive than I was expecting. There are even a few rides, including a giant Ferris wheel towering over the whole space, the candy-colored lights wrapped around the carriages lighting up the night sky. It’s crowded, with hundreds of students moving between food trucks and stands with various carnival games. I wipe my palms on the back of my jeans as I approach the security. I’ve got this. I should pretend I’m the prince of Hell, with no cares in the world. It worked for him, why can’t it work for me?
I show security my student ID and they let me pass. There’s another small line just inside, where a guy is standing by a table filled with T-shirts.
“What size?” he asks.
“Medium, please.”
He finds one, fishing it out from under the pile. “We’re nearly out of mediums,” he says as he passes it to me. “It’s your lucky day.”
Fingers crossed.
I take the shirt and inspect it. It reads46TH ANNUAL FALL CARNIVAL, and has cartoon sparkles and fall leaves around the words. I slip it on over my shirt but under my jacket, something a lot of other attendees have done. Looking out at the sea of people, I see about a quarter of them are wearing the T-shirts.
Okay, friends. Let’s do this.
I go up to one of the stands, a ring toss game. A tall guy is playing and seems to be on his own. He looks nice enough, so I approach the game. It, like all games tonight, is free. The worker hands me three plastic rings. As I take them, I notice the guy looking at me. I try to say hi, but it’s like my throat has sealed shut and I can’t get the words to come out. The end result is me staring at him, and my face is starting to feel hot, so I’m sure I’m blushing. I turn away and toss one of the rings, missing completely.
The guy tosses his last ring and it’s a perfect throw, winning him a small green teddy bear.
“Nice,” I say.
He bobs his head at me, acknowledging I spoke but not sparking up a conversation, then turns and walks away. Okay, that was rough, but I tried. I give myself some points for effort. I toss the last two rings, and miss both times. I decide the game is rigged and my hand-eye coordination is fine.
“Want to try again?” asks the worker.
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, walking away. I take my phone out again and message Ashley.
