Page 2 of My Freshman Mate
She rejoins her friends, and I'm alone again. I open my notebook to a fresh page, pen poised, as the dean, a stern-looking alpha with a booming voice, steps up to the podium.
The guy sitting next to me, a beta with a nervous habit of drumming his fingers on his knee, leans over. His voice is a low, anxious whisper. "Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you know if this advising session afterwards is mandatory for undeclared majors?"
"It is," I reply, maybe a little too formally. "According to the freshman orientation packet, section three, paragraph two, all incoming students are required to attend their assigned advising session to confirm their initial course registration. Failure to do so could result in being dropped from your classes."
The guy's eyes widen slightly. The drumming stops. "Oh. Uh. Right. Thanks." He slowly turns back to face the front, putting a careful foot of distance between us.
Great. I've been here three hours and I'm already nicknamed "Statistics Guy" and have scared off my neighbor. Fantastic start to my social integration.
I tune out the dean's inspirational crap and focus on what matters. Ninety-four percent graduation rate. Eighty-eight percent job placement. A minimum 3.85 GPA for med school acceptance. My brain kicks into gear, doing the math. Two years of straight As, then maybe—maybe—I could afford a single B+ in junior year. No, that's too risky. It has to be straight As, all the way. Four hours of studying a day, minimum. Plus lab work. Plus—
"—the connections you forge here may last a lifetime."
I glance around at the sea of strangers. My chest tightens, that familiar feeling of being the odd one out, the one on the outside looking in.
Focus on the plan, Braiden. The plan is all that matters.
I check my watch. The assembly will end in twelve minutes. My advising session is in Thompson Hall, a seven-minute walk from here. That leaves five minutes to find the room and get a good seat. Perfect. I ignore the hollow ache in my gut that has nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with being utterly alone.
***
I'm one of the first people out the auditorium doors, map clutched in my hand like a lifeline. The campus spreads out before me—red brick, ancient oaks, the whole rich-kid, east-coast fantasy I've only ever seen in movies. It's beautiful, I guess, but it feels alien. Impenetrable.
I trace my route on the laminated surface. Left at the library, right at the science building, straight past the student union. Easy. I've memorized it, but the map is my security blanket.
I make it halfway across the main quad when the plan goes to hell.
A pack of frat bros erupts from the student union, a loud, laughing tidal wave of backward caps and the sharp tang of body spray. They're tossing a football back and forth, their voices echoing across the manicured lawns, completely oblivious to anyone else.
"Yo, pledge! Go long!" one of them bellows.
A lanky freshman, clearly desperate to impress, tears across the grass directly into my path. I try to sidestep, but he clips my shoulder hard, sending me stumbling off the sidewalk. My new leather satchel bangs against my hip, and my meticulously plotted route is shot.
"Sorry, man!" he yells over his shoulder, not sounding sorry at all as he makes a diving catch.
I grip my map, my knuckles white. The campus looks different from this angle, a confusing maze of brick and ivy. A frantic rhythm hammers against my ribs.Okay, don't panic. Just find a landmark and recalibrate.
I spot the library's clock tower, but it's in the wrong place. If the library is over there, that means I'm facing… south? Crap. Thompson Hall should be to my left, then. I think.
I check my watch. Three minutes until the session starts.Three minutes.A cold sweat prickles the back of my neck. Being late isn't in The Plan. Being lost is a catastrophic failure.
I spot a girl with a Westbridge lanyard and hurry toward her, my voice tight with anxiety. "Excuse me, could you point me toward Thompson Hall?"
She pulls out an earbud, giving me a blank look. "Thompson? Oh, uh… it's over that way somewhere, I think?" She makes a vague, unhelpful gesture that encompasses about a third of the campus. "Big brick building. You can't miss it." She pops the earbud back in and walks away, leaving me standing there, more lost than before.
They're all big brick buildings.
Panic, cold and sharp, claws its way up my throat. I start walking faster, my eyes glued to the useless map, trying to force the lines and symbols to make sense. Maybe if I cut through this courtyard, I can shave off a few seconds…
The world vanishes in a full-body jolt as I walk headfirst into something solid. Hard.
My map flies from my hand. Papers from my satchel explode across the ground. I stagger backward, the air knocked from my lungs, an apology already forming on my lips.
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I—"
The words dissolve in my mouth as I finally look up.
And up.
