Page 20 of You Had Me at Hello World
He has limbs that seem a little too long for his body, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Lush eyelashes, a scattering of freckles across his cheeks. He’s wearing an unzipped jacket, a shirt that readsTHERE ARE 10 TYPES OF PEOPLE IN THE WORLD: THOSE WHO KNOW BINARY AND THOSE WHO DON’T,and lemon-yellow Crocs with fuzzy socks. I don’t recognize the brand of his backpack.
So. Nothing obviously expensive, although that could mean he’srich-rich.
In Chinook Shore, people do whatever they can to brag about their money, even money they don’t have.Especiallymoney they don’t have. The tourists drip out in counterfeit Louis Vuitton and Gucci. My neighbors go into debt for new four-wheelers. But I’ve learned teeth are the universal billboard for “my family is loaded.”
I can’t see Khoi’s teeth right now, but I have a feeling his smile is dazzling and pearly white and perfectly straight.
He unzips his backpack. “Here, I have a spare T-shirt.”
“It has to have long sleeves,” I say without thinking.
He cocks his head. “Why?”
Ugh. Why did I say that?
Well, Khoi isn’t holding a suitcase, so he’s not here for Alpha Fellows. I wouldn’t usually do this, but hey, I’m never going to see this kid again, so I wordlessly roll up my left sleeve and show him the bruises on my forearm, the angry purple apostrophes that Michael indented into my skin.
I don’t know. Maybe I just want sympathy from a kind, soft-eyed stranger. I want someone to acknowledge that my existence is a total dumpster fire.
He inhales sharply. “Who did this? Are you okay? Do we need to call the police?”
“I’m fine,” I say, ignoring his other questions.
“Seriously, what—”
I try a quip. “You should see the other guy.”
“Why?”
“Because I totally beat his ass…” I stop when his eyes widen with shock. He’s clearly not getting the joke. “Never mind.”
“If somebody is hurting you, there is help out there.” He rattles off the words like he memorized a health class pamphlet. He probably did memorize some health class pamphlet. Laminated, with cute illustrations of multicultural families holding hands.
This kid doesn’t seem to have any real-world experience with this kind of thing, so I don’t need his advice.
“Forget it.” I check my phone. It’s already seven thirty. “I need to go.”
“No, wait. You can have this.” He removes his jacket and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I reach to peel off my sweater. I guess my shirt lifts up with it, because suddenly he starts coughing.
“Don’t you, um, want to get changed in the restroom?” he asks in a strangled voice.
Oops. I ignore him and yank down my shirt with one hand while tugging my sweater over my head with the other. When I glance at his face, he’s blushing furiously, and I swallow a giggle at how scandalized he looks. He’s probably sixteen or seventeen. Is this really the first time he’s ever caught a glimpse of a girl’s bra? Back home, most people start hooking up before they learn the quadratic formula. I mean, given our public education system, I’m not sure they ever actually learn the quadratic formula, so maybe that’s not saying much.
I wad up my sweater—poor Pikachu’s face is now mottled brown, like he has that skin condition, vitiligo—and shove it into my backpack. “Nah. I don’t have time to find a restroom. I’m already late for my thing.”
“What’s your thing?”
“Um, it’s in Simmons Hall? Do you know where that is?”
He looks too young to be a college student, but maybe he’s the son of a faculty member here. He seems like a sheltered kid who would have professor parents.
Well, Khoi isn’t holding a suitcase, so he’s not here for Alpha Fellows. I never thought somebody’s face could become the ^_^ emoji, but there’s no other way to describe Khoi’s expression. “No way, I’m going there too! For Alpha Fellows? Serendipity!”
“Serendipity,” I echo, even though I’m not one hundred percent sure what that word means.
It’s like somebody just slapped me across the face. How did I not see this coming?
