Page 21 of Study Games

“But you came to Rippton to have a college life, right?”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I tried again. “I came to Rippton to ensure I get a solid job and don’t have the old aged care problems my parents will have when they hit my grandparents age.”Or that maybe I can pay for them, so they don’t suffer what I saw.

My grandmother shaking in the cold, no matter how many blankets we put around her. My grandfather unable to afford medication and dying a decade before his time.

Hell, if I got the degrees–plural–I was after, maybe I could help with those things.

Or maybe it was all a pipe dream and I was just another college aged kid with her head in a bee hive.

“Said no college student on party night, ever,” whispered Celia.

I pursed my lips. “Out loud, huh?”

“Yeah.” She hugged me. “I love you, bish. With all my heart. But also, your gran partied. She got drunk and let her hair down.”

“Not. Once.” I poked my noodles.

I still hadn’t told her about drinking with the Allstars, though she did know about the itching jacket incident.

“Sure she did. Or something crazy.” Celia stroked my hair. “And she’d tell you to live, Wavy. Enjoy life. Then come back and study bees and hive life and aged care and be a genius in so many other ways. But also to live.”

I peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re funneling me into something?”

Celia’s pretty face broke into a full smile. She drew in a long breath. “Okay, so like I was saying, there’s a party at one of the sorority houses. Just girls night. Hair, makeup and I think we’re doing a clothes swap. No guys. Better?”

“Better?” I managed. That sounded like my worst nightmare personified. “Um, I have assignments. Two of them. Due for upload by midnight.” But not by me. That was another mess I'd walked into all too easily and couldn't extract myself. No. Keep it platonic, and get it done. “I’m good. Noodles are ready. Thank you for the offer.” It came out so robotic Isaac Asimov would have been proud of his creation.

“Mmm. Well, if you change your mind, here’s the address.” She looked around. “Where’s your phone?”

“My phone?” I tipped my noodles into my bowl, already head deep in a math assignment I didn’t take classes for. “Uh–”

“Seriously. Where is it?”

I blinked, scouring our small apartment. “Check my bag?”

Celia wandered over and flicked through the stack of books and jingled my keys. “Not here.”

“Hmm. Probably in my bedroom.” I opened my door and frowned. Had I taken it out in the bathroom? It was communal and full of steam after the shortest of showers–they had to be short as that was all the hot water we got–so I never used it there. “Shit. I have no idea where it is.”

Celia smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure we’ll find it. Where did you see it last?”

“I had it when I…” I hadn’t checked for messages on the way to class or when I got home. I’d thrown my bag on my bed… but a few minutes of lifting covers and crawling beneath my bed and the ratty sofa we shared excavated nothing but a bunch of stale dust bunnies. “Shit, shit, shit. The bees.”

“Was that the last time you used it?” Celia’s brows rose with her incredulous tone.

I faced her defiantly, and my expression drooped almost immediately at her expression. “Yes?”

“Okay. It’s fine. I can call one of the hockey boys I know. They’re sweethearts, I promise. They’ll go and get it for you.”

“No!” I didn’t want anyone near my hives—certainly not a drunken hoard of sports jocks. “No, I’ll go get it. It’s fine. Campus is lit up.”

Celia’s frown matched mine. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’ve got your party. Go, relax.”

Her lips quirked. “I think I just said all this to you.”

“Yeah, well, you know…” I herded her out the door, grabbing my bag and remembered to flick off the burner, giving my cooling noodles a disconsolating look and a mental promise I’d bee back soon. Pun. I had to keep myself occupied or I’d go crazy.

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