Page 9 of Shane

My mother wasn’t angry, she was sad.

Needless to say, divorce is disruptive as fuck. It’s one of the reasons I’m on a campus two thousand miles away and not at any of the schools at the top of my list, such as Drexel, Howard, or Boston College. I wanted to distance myself from my parents’ passive-aggressive mess as far as I possibly could.

Among other things, I’m running from.

“Don’t ruin my day by talking crap about my mother. This is not about your marriage. Today is about my new life as a student here.”

Honestly, we didn’t need to fly across the country for this. My decision has already been made, and I don’t need this visit to confirm that, but my father needs it.

“I wasn’t talking crap about your mother,” he offers defensively but before I can argue back with him, a girl with freckles, two blonde high-placed ponytails, and wearing a cropped university t-shirt approaches us.

“Welcome to VCU! You two look like you may be lost. Have you checked in yet?”

“We haven’t,” my father answers with a smile. “Can you point us in the right direction?”

“Of course I can!” She squeals like a cheerleader on a sugar high, and I almost throw up a little in my mouth. “My name’s Pepper, and I’m a campus ambassador. I’m also a rising sophomore in Arts and Sciences with a concentration in design.”

Nobody asked for her life story.

“What’s your name?” She waits for an answer from me with the eager look of a puppy, and I say a quick request prayer to whatever higher being can hear me that all the kids here don’t act like her.

What the fuck is she so happy about?

“Kennedy.”

“Ooh, like the president?”

“Uh, yeah,” I deadpan. “Like the president.”

“What’s your last name, Kennedy, so we can look up your registration and give you your goodies?” she asks as we end up under the largest tent on the grassy area closest to where we were walking.

“Is this fake grass?” My father asks in a tone of snobby disbelief that makes me want to disappear into the astroturf.

“I don’t think so,” Pepper replies with the same high energy in her voice. “But I’m not sure. The desert heat doesn’t make it easy to grow much vegetation around here.”

“Aah, yes. I just wondered–”

“Bing,” I say to Pepper, cutting off the exchange between her and my dad short.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My last name is Bing.”

“Oh, great, let me get you all checked in, Kennedy Bing.”

I’m worried that my father will notice that the students checking us in are using an antiquated system of looking for my name on a printed spreadsheet instead of a computer. He’s been looking for any excuse to convince me that hishard-earned money is being wasted on this second-rate university. His words, not mine.

“There you are,” Pepper says after finding my name. She reaches under the table for a large black cotton tote bag filled with all sorts of Valencia City University pamphlets and paraphernalia.

“This shirt is in there,” she says excitedly, referring to the top she’s wearing. “You’ll have to cut it yourself if you want a cropped version, though.”

I’m not even close to interested in doing that.

“Thanks,” I deadpan.

“Have you made your final decision yet?” she asks.

“Kennedy is weighing her options,” my father butts in.

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