The Smartest Girl in the Room (10 page)

"That guy- was he stalking you?"

"Believe me, that is the least of his
crimes."

Mitch's eyes widened. "Has that guy hurt
you?"

"God, no, but I almost wish he would so I
could turn him in."

There were a couple of questions Mitch wanted
to ask to, but it was early, and he was tired. "Okay… I'm Mitch, by
the way. Is the Hillel always this exciting?"

"Not on Saturdays."

Mitch didn't think she was funny, but he
smiled anyway. "I guess you can have the rabbi first."

"He's not here yet."

"Oh." Mitch was disappointed. "So what are
you doing here?"

"I'm the chair of the Event Committee. I just
wanted to double-check some details."

"Maybe you should talk to him instead," Mitch
said gently.

"He’s heard it all before." She looked at
him. "What are you here to talk to him about?"

He hadn't forgotten. "It’s kind of
complicated."

"It isn’t any fun if it’s simple."

"Then this is hilarious. I think I met the
perfect girl last week. Beautiful, intelligent, funny, into science
fiction and- " He paused, "What?"

Miranda was smiling. "I'm sorry, you remind
me of a good friend of mine. So what's the problem?"

"She’s nineteen."

Miranda waited for a second. "And?"

"And I’m twenty-two. And she’s nineteen."

"And you’re worried about what?"

"I’m worried that she doesn’t know what she
wants."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Or that she
doesn’t know what you’ll want?"

"Not just that, but yeah, I have thought
about it."

"The sex isn’t as perfect as she is?"

"I haven’t even kissed her."

"So what are you here for exactly? Permission
to date someone who is three years younger than you are and even
legal to marry?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh. There’s someone else… because there’s
always someone else."

What did that mean?
Mitch thought.
"I’m not like that. But... sort of."

"Someone you were interested in before, who
only now became available?"

"Someone I met two days ago and slept with
yesterday."

"Because you’re so in love with this other
girl?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Is there more to this story? Because I don’t
get it."

"I’m going to Ireland in a few weeks, and
this other girl is going with me. The first one- Emily- she’s
not."

"And now you won’t be alone."

Mitch let that sit in the air for a moment as
he felt Miranda’s blue eyes dig into him. "And now I won’t be
alone."

"What’s so scary about being alone?"

"Who wants to be alone?"

"I’ve been alone for most of my life." She
paused. "And I think I’d rather be alone than with someone I don’t
love."

Mitch rubbed his face. "I have to go to
Ireland," he said finally. "It’s been planned for years, and I want
to go."

"And she told you not to go?"

"She doesn’t know I’m going." He avoided her
stare. "And I was supposed to see her last night, but I was with
the other girl instead."

"Now I get it. You shot yourself in the foot
so you wouldn’t have to go to war, but now you’re wondering how
you’re going to live with the pain."

"I thought this would be easy. I didn’t go
looking for anything. It just happened. Sometimes you should go
with the flow and let everything be easy. Right?"

"Flow is irrelevant. The question is what do
you want?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Isn’t it always?"

Mitch stood up. This isn't helping. "I've got
to go. Are you going to be alright?"

Miranda nodded. "He's gone. Don't worry. But
you... you should fix what you did."

"Um, thanks. Nice to meet you."

Mitch walked back to his car. He didn’t know
what he wanted. If he had really wanted Emily, then Kyra wouldn’t
have been a temptation. Right? Or maybe he just didn't know what he
wanted more. No. He was going to ride this out. Where was the
harm?

Emily walked into her Comp. Lit. class on
Monday. She really loved this class. She loved the language,
political intrigue and ambiguity. And she loved Professor Hazlett,
who made her think more deeply and work harder than she had in any
class so far.

Emily suppressed a yawn as she greeted her.
Professor Hazlett chuckled. "Late night?"

"Slightly. I think I fell asleep around
one-thirty this morning."

"Wow!" Drew said as he walked in. "I’m
impressed you came to class!"

Professor Hazlett looked at her watch. "As
are we all, Mr. Strand."

That day’s lecture was about Iago. She agreed
with Professor Hazlett’s theory that he wasn’t a meaninglessly
malevolent puppeteer but was instead a tool himself of patrician
Venetian society. The rest of the class didn’t like the
ramifications of what that meant. Everyone thought it was more
interesting to talk about Othello’s possible bipolar disorder or
Desdemona’s growing victimization. Those were interesting
questions, but, sci-fi buff that she was, she liked the overarching
political conspiracy theories much better.

As she packed up to leave, Drew tapped her on
the shoulder. "Sorry about Friday."

Emily immediately thought of Mitch. Why would
Drew be apologizing for him? Then she thought of Jessie and
remembered.

"For being late? Don’t worry about it."

"That, and for you having to play babysitter.
Jessie can be a real handful."

She shrugged. "I wasn’t babysitting. I was
making a new friend- and eating chocolate cake."

Drew laughed. "Sounds like a birthday
party."

"See? It’s all good."

"Speaking of good, how is your final for
Comp. Lit. coming along?"

"Done, actually. Cervantes, Shakespeare and
the Inquisition. Very exciting. What’s yours about?" She realized
all of a sudden that they were having a normal conversation and she
wasn’t humoring him.

"I haven’t picked a theme yet."

"Are you kidding me? I hope you’ve got a
light load for the rest of your classes."

He smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly."

"Uh, okay. Does anything interest you? From
the class?"

"Shakespeare is probably the easiest of all.
I mean, easiest to research, and she wants three citations for
this, right?"

"At least!"

"So, I don’t know, maybe something about
Othello. I’ll check out Wikipedia tonight."

Emily suppressed a shudder. "If that helps
you get started."

"It would be really helpful if I could bounce
ideas off of someone."

"You’d better hurry if you want Professor
Hazlett."

"And I will... but I was hoping you could
give me some tips first."

"Oh, brother." Emily sighed. "Alright, on two
conditions."

"Name them."

"First, you really are going to do some
research tonight and have at least one good idea."

"That can be done."

"And two, you make an appointment to speak to
Hazlett by no later than Thursday."

"Consider it done."

"Alrighty then. We’ll go to the library
tomorrow after class, ready to work."

Drew stood straight and tall and saluted.
"Yes, ma’am!"

"That's right!" She walked out of the class,
smiling, to her surprise.

Mitch had been looking forward to Tuesday for
the last month. After the late night sessions crafting the bill
with Joe and the pledges he’d found to testify about what they’d
endured during Rush Week, it was time to deliver his bill up for a
vote.

He’d worked on his speech for a week. "I’d be
insulting everyone’s intelligence if I didn’t mention right now
that I used to be a member of a fraternity, and I’d be lying if I
said that didn’t have any influence on this bill. We join
organizations like this for the best of reasons, but sometimes we
do the most horrible and perverse things in the name of
Brotherhood. I’ve seen firsthand what people can do if they feel
like no one is watching. There’s no reason for you to believe me,
but I hope the speakers we had last week made you think. That is
why I humbly ask you to vote in favor of this measure. This is the
best tool we have to control people’s abuses."

One of the committee members spontaneously
burst into applause, and four others followed.

Of course the bill passed. Joe had lobbied
hard for him. But even as Mitch was getting slapped on the
shoulder, he couldn’t enjoy it.

Zainab had been glaring at him all night. She
shook her head when Joe asked him about his "busy" weekend with
Kyra. He could have sworn she was extending the item about the new
wing at the Bartolome Library just to take time away from his bill.
When he got up to speak, she had a front and center seat. If he had
looked at her, he would have forgotten what he was going to
say.

The vote was the worst. Ten in favor, zero
opposed, one abstention. Guess who abstained?

When Joe asked him about Ireland, Zainab
heard. She looked at Mitch like he was something she was glad she
hadn’t stepped on. "Have a great trip," she said on her way out.
"And don’t rush back," she said as she passed him.

Why did Zainab have to...?
He didn't
finish that thought. He knew why.

Emily spent the rest of the week studying and
writing for her finals the next week. By the time Friday rolled
around, she had finished her second paper, memorized her theorems
and laws and was ready to go. A little refresher during the week
right before the tests, and she would be fine.

On Saturday, Emily reviewed the course
descriptions for the classes she needed for the winter quarter. She
was looking forward to them, and she felt like she could finally
sit back and enjoy, coasting to the end.

As she read the descriptions on the computer,
she realized she was holding her breath. She clicked on the links
for the required reading. Oh God. Even the used book prices were
going to kill her, almost four hundred and fifty dollars. New books
were pushing six hundred. She had a pitifully small savings
account, much less than the five thousand she'd started with two
years ago. She hated having to dip into that for her books, again,
when there were other things she was sure to need it for when she
graduated. She looked at the little loveseat she slept on. It
wasn’t fair.

Her stepfather wasn't around on Sunday. He
usually wasn't on the weekends. "Mom, I really need some help with
my books this quarter," she blurted out after breakfast.

Her mother didn’t look up from her crossword
puzzle. "Sorry, I’m not going to be able to help out."

"It’s over four hundred for books."

"Haven’t you been saving some money?"

She always made it sound as if Emily had a
source of income other than her savings. "I was hoping to use
what's left of that when I graduate. You know, to get my own place?
I’ll be lucky if I have enough for first, last and a deposit. I’ll
be lucky if I have any furniture."

"Well, that’s what you’re going to have to
use, because I’m afraid I can’t help you."

"I don’t usually ask you for money."

"And that’s good." Now her mother looked up.
"Because I don’t charge you for rent or food for that matter."

"Rent?" Emily couldn’t help herself. "I sleep
in your office. I cook and I clean."

"Sometimes."

"When I’m not studying."

"And why are you taking so many classes?" Her
mother sounded curious. "What’s your rush? If you slowed down, you
could get a job and earn more money."

She was in the alternate universe she had
inhabited when she was a child. "Because you have made it clear
you’re looking for another job," Emily said.

"I haven’t found anything yet," her mother
replied.

"But you’d like to. The fact that I’m at the
university doesn’t bother you. If you leave before I finish, I’m
pretty sure I couldn’t earn enough to stay in school."

"Ever hear of a student loan?"

"Plenty of times. But no one is going to give
me that much money without keeping me in debt for a long time
afterward. It’s too late for any of the university
scholarships."

"Most people take out loans. You’re very
lucky that you don’t have to worry about those. A little gratitude
might go a long way right now."

"No," Emily said, struggling to control her
voice. "I’m lucky that I’ve been able to get so many classes out of
the way so quickly. I thought it was important to you that I get my
degree."

"Since when is what I want important to
you?"

"I’m not sure. But it was when I enrolled.
And now it’s important to finish something I started. So I need to
power through if I’m going to finish before you might leave. And
you’re right. I’m not paying rent, and you do feed me. Thank you
for letting me sleep on your couch. But you’re also not paying
tuition or taking any loans for me. So why are you giving me such a
hard time about a few hundred dollars for these last two
quarters?"

"I don’t understand how you cannot appreciate
everything I’ve sacrificed for you. If it weren’t for me, you
wouldn’t even be in school."

"I won't be in school if you find another
job."

"And you can’t bring yourself to say anything
to me unless you’re asking for something else. Why don’t you ask
your father for the money?"

Her mother always asked about Emily’s father
when she wanted to hurt her. "As you know, I haven’t spoken to my
father in over two years. I don’t think he’d be open to giving me
five hundred dollars or so right now. In fact, he’d probably tell
me to ask you, because he took care of me during high school."

"Oh, did he?" Ah, the icy rhetoric. "That’s
nothing compared to all of the sacrifices I made for you when you
were younger. The long hours working two jobs, not knowing if we
were going to have a roof over our heads at the end of the month.
Does anyone ever say thank you for that?"