Page 15 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

And it’s true. My neck hasn’t prickled since I got back to my room last night.

I only have to wait a few minutes for a shower to open up, giving me just enough time to brush my teeth before I adjust the water to my preferred temperature.

I grab a towel and get undressed, setting everything on top of my shower caddy on the floor outside of my shower.

I have tutoring today, and I’m actually a little nervous about meeting the “math wizard.”

If he’s as good as everyone says he is, what will he think about me? Someone who knows almost nothing about math.

The bathroom door squeaks open, and hushed whispers and giggles pull me out of my thoughts.

Who is that chipper this early in the morning?

The giggling gets louder until it’s right outside of my shower. It stops.

“Hello?” I call out. “Sorry, but this shower is taken.”

The bathroom door shuts soon after that, and I don’t hear anything else. I speed through the rest of my shower. Memories of last night and the feeling of being watched, of being followed, come rushing back.

I turn the water off and reach out through the curtain for my towel, but my hand hits cold plastic.

What?

I look out of the curtain and groan.

My clothes and towel are gone. I’ve seen this happen multiple times on TV and read about it in books, but I never expected it to happen to me.

“Is anyone there?” I call loudly enough that if anyone was in the bathroom with me, they would have heard it.

When no one responds, I grab my shower caddy, then speedwalk to the bathroom door. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. My wet feet are on the tile, but I don’t want anyone to see me like this.

I’m not normally modest, and I should say, at least this is an all-girl’s dorm. No one will care if I’m naked for a few minutes. But girls are mean, and just because it’s an all-girl’s dorm, doesn’t mean that the girls don’t sneak guys into their rooms.

We’re college students, for crying out loud. We have needs.

Or rather, a lot of the girls on my floor have needs, and I’ve noticed that a lot of the athletes at Fox University seem to be the favorite flavor for our floor.

Wasting no more time, I check the hallway between the bathroom and my room. The coast is clear. Before I can second guess myself, I sprint out of the bathroom and all the way to my room.

When I slam the door behind me, Mia jolts upright in bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Well, good morning to you, too. Why are you wet and naked?” She yawns, stretching. Her two sizes too big Cats the musical t-shirt rumpled so it looks like Rumtumtugger and Mister Mistoffelees have morphed into one large two-headed cat..

“Why not?” I snap. I take a few deep breaths, then stomp across the room to my wardrobe. I grab a pair of underwear and a bra and put them on.

Mia raises her eyebrow at me.

“Snippy this morning. Any particular reason, other than you’re naked and, apparently, don’t want to be?”

“Someone stole my towel and my clothes while I was in the shower.” I dig through my makeshift closet, looking for some clothes that mirror my mood.

I pull out a pair of black jeggings that are frayed at the bottom, sliding them on. But none of my shirts reflect how angry I am. I don’t think my light pink heart sweater or my t-shirt with a bigfoot holding a tray of chicken nuggets exactly says “pissed off, don’t talk to me.”

“Mia, do you have an angry shirt?”

She regards me for a moment before jumping off the bed. My bad mood melts a little as she heads purposefully toward her own wardrobe. I knew there was a reason we were besties.

She pulls out a black Goats and Vandals band t-shirt that has little rips in the sleeves and is fringed along the bottom. It’s exactly what I need, and I give my friend a quick hug. Mia always comes through for me when I need her most.

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