Page 2 of Seeds of Friendship
“Friendly,” Troy nods his head towards the guy dressed in black.
“Maybe he's mute,” Ethan suggests, too loud.
The guy's eyes flick up, cold as fuck. “Maybe I just don't feel like making friends with idiots who can't handle basic paperwork.”
“Whoa.” Ethan holds up his hands. “Harsh, but fair. The same applies to you too bro.”
He scowls at Ethan.
“I'm Troy.” Troy tries again, because apparently, he's immune to social cues. “That's Freddie, and the dying one is Ian.”
“It’sEthan,” the red-haired boy corrects, sounding exactly like he is, in fact, dying.
“Right.”
The guy stares at Troy for a long moment. “Alfie,” he finally says.
An awkward silence settles over the room. Ethan's head is back between his knees. Troy's tapping his foot. Alfie's aggressively reading something on his phone. And I'm wondering how the fuck I ended up here.
“So,” Troy says, because he obviously can't handle silence, “anyone else's parents freaking out about the housing situation?”
“My dad doesn't know yet,” Ethan mumbles from between his knees. “Gonna be a fun conversation. 'Hey Dad, remember that football scholarship I gave up? Well, I also can't figure out housing. But I'm doing great at college!’”
There's something in his voice—a crack that suggests this goes deeper. But before anyone can respond, Alfie snorts.
“My parents don’t even realize it’s move-in day.”
It comes out bitter, loaded. Troy and I exchange another glance.
“Number fifteen?” The housing worker calls out, sounding dead inside.
That's me. I stand, and she waves me over to her desk, which is covered in empty coffee cups and what looks like a shrine to caffeine addiction.
“Name?”
“Freddie Donovan.”
She types, frowns, types more. “You're not in the system.”
“Right, that's why I'm here.”
She sighs like I've personally ruined her life. “Freshman?”
“Yeah.”
“Late application?”
“Didn't actually apply.”
She stops typing and looks at me. Really looks at me. “You didn't apply for housing? At all?”
“It's been a weird summer.”
Another sigh. She goes back to typing. “We have one option. There's a house—usually for upperclassmen, but we had a group withdraw last minute.”
“Perfect—”
“It's a four-bedroom. You'd need to fill all four spots.”
