The Alpha Bet Page 2

  “How would your mother feel about the way you said goodbye to Aaron?” Mom asks. She’s like a rottweiler with a steak when she’s on a mission. I have a bad feeling that I’m going to be making a trip to the housing department once this conversation is over. We all stare anxiously at Jentry waiting for her response.

  I watch as her whole demeanor changes. Her tiny shoulders slump forward and her curly chestnut-colored hair falls over her face. When she finally looks up, her hair is still covering one of her startling green eyes. I can’t get over how pretty she is. Our housing arrangement obviously wasn’t based on looks. Her lip starts to quiver slightly as she answers.

  “I guess she wouldn’t be very proud of me,” she says quietly. Sean slumps down on my mattress, which is covered with shadows of old stains, disappointed that Jentry obviously isn’t a total slut after all.

  “Probably not,” Mom says, almost beaming she’s so proud of herself. “You probably wouldn’t like it very much if I called her up and told her about it, would you?”

  “Mom…”

  “Marge…”

  Dad and I both yell over each other. Why does she always have to take everything so far? It’s like she wants to ruin it for me. Sometimes I almost think she’s jealous of me and just trying to hold me back from things that she can’t do. But that’s crazy. She’s my mom. How could a mother be jealous of a daughter?

  “It’s okay,” Jentry says calmly. “I really wish you would call her, Mrs. Cook. I’d love to talk to my mom.”

  Mom tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow not sure how to take Jentry’s comment. Is she playing Mom’s bluff or does she really not care if her mom finds out she was having sex?

  “Because she’s been dead for ten years,” Jentry continues, shocking us all.

  “Oh, you poor dear. I’m so sorry,” Mom says, rushing to Jentry and throwing her arms around her. Jentry wraps her arms around Mom and returns the hug. After a few seconds, Mom releases her and studies Jentry’s now tear-soaked face.

  “I think your mother would be very proud of you, Jentry,” Mom says, trying desperately to backtrack from her earlier statements. I feel bad for her. She can be a bit over the top sometimes but she would never knowingly hurt someone’s feelings.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Cook,” Jentry answers, wiping her face. “Do you have more stuff, Grace Kelly?” she asks, suddenly brightening.

  ****

  After three trips to the mini-van, and two trips to the first-aid kit (both for me), we finally got all my stuff to my room. Mom immediately opens one of my boxes and starts putting stuff where she thinks it should go. Couldn’t she just ask me where I want my socks to go? Mom would just laugh at me if I told her that I Googled feng shui and I know exactly where to place my things to bring the maximum amount of harmony to my new life. She just wouldn’t get it.

  “You don’t have to do that, Mom.” I say, hoping that I won’t have to spell it out for her.

  Mom refolds a towel she pulled out of the box then sets it gently on the bed. She glances around the tiny cinder block room and sighs.

  “Okay, I get it,” she says, admitting defeat. She hugs me tightly and kisses me on the forehead. “Thanksgiving isn’t that far away,” she says, more to comfort herself than me.

  “It’ll be here before you know it,” I say, praying that it isn’t true. Dad comes up behind us and wraps his arms around both of us.

  “Both my girls are going to be just fine,” he says, kissing my cheek. I’m suddenly overwhelmed and it takes every bit of inner strength I have not to start crying. What is going on? I should be ecstatic that I am minutes away from being on my own. I’ve been counting down this day since I got my acceptance letter. I’m ready to be challenged by harder curriculums. I’m ready to separate from my parents and annoying sibling. I’m ready to live with a total stranger. But what if I’m not? I think, panicked. What if Jentry is just putting on an act for my parents and doesn’t like me at all? I grip my parents tight trying to squeeze out some of my fear.

  I sneak a peek over dad’s shoulder to see Sean checking out Jentry’s butt while she puts away her clothes. She turns around and busts him. She smiles and he blushes. I see her slingshot something across the room to him and when he jams a pair of thong panties into his jeans pocket, I’m not sure if I should scream in horror, or fall down laughing. Jentry sees me and smirks, all of my fear evaporates because I know we are going to get along just fine. I also can’t help but wonder if maybe Jentry is the variable that might help me prove my hypothesis true.

  ****

  Jentry and I spend the next few hours setting up our respective sides of the room. Her side is completely covered with black and white photographs, expensive-looking bedding, and stylish accessories. My side is filled with my many dictionaries, encyclopedias, and some old textbooks I thought I might need for reference. I thought about setting my new trinocular compound microscope out but I was afraid somebody might break in and steal it, so I tucked it carefully away in my sock drawer. Nobody would ever think to look there. The only personal photo I have propped up on my desk is one of Sean and me last Christmas.

  “GK, you’re a minimalist when it comes to sentimentality, that’s for sure,” Jentry laughs.

  I beam at her, not because of the comment, but because she’s only known me for four hours and she’s already given me a nickname. I’ve never had a nickname before because that one in high school totally doesn’t count.

  I can’t believe how quickly we’ve bonded. It’s like fate brought us together. I didn’t really have any girlfriends in high school. I was always too busying studying and I never really met anyone who understood me.

  Jentry plugs her iPod into its base and one of my favorite songs comes blaring out of the speakers. I’m so comfortable that I start dancing around the room.

  “I just love William,” I say, throwing my hip out a little too far and catching it on the end of my desk. Ouch, that’s gonna leave a mark.

  “It’s will.i.am,” Jentry replies, laughing.

  “Huh?” I throw my butt out and wiggle it around to the beat. Jentry throws herself on her bed in a laughing fit. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m not as good a dancer as I imagined. Oh well, Jentry won’t tell anyone. Our first secret. This is exactly how I pictured college!

  I move to Jentry’s side of the room to browse her photos. They are amazing. The photographer has captured the essence of the moment so well that I almost feel like I’m there.

  “Wow, who’s this?” I ask, pointing to a particularly striking photo of a woman swinging with her hair blowing behind her in a perfect sheet.

  “That’s my mom,” Jentry says proudly.

  “She’s gorgeous. Who took all of these?”

  “I did. I’m a photography major,” she answers.

  “But…”

  “Yeah, she’s not really dead. I was just messing with your mom,” Jentry giggles. I stand rooted to ground unable to move. What kind of a person lies about their mom being dead? I didn’t know, but I knew that Jentry was exactly what I needed to kick start my new life. I look over at her and start laughing. Before long we are both practically on the floor, squatting, so that we don’t pee our pants we are laughing so hard.

  “You know she’s probably researching campus grief recovery groups as we speak?” I tell Jentry.

  “I couldn’t help it. She was just such an easy mark. I can’t imagine what you’ve had to endure,” she says, panting heavily from laughing so hard. She falls down on her bed and the expensive comforter swallows her small frame.

  “She’s not that bad. I mean, as moms go,” I say, suddenly feeling guilty laughing at Mom’s expense.

  “It’s ok, GK. I’m not saying she’s Satan or anything, but did you pick those pants out for yourself,” she asks, reaching over to pull on my elastic waistband. “I thought you had to have an AARP card to buy anything like that.”

  I pull away from her and move over to my own bed. I ease myself down
on my old Disney Princess sheets and comforter. The truth was I had grabbed the pants up from a rummage sale pile my grandma had brought to our house. Mom begged me to wear something different and even gave me money to go clothes shopping. Instead, I took it and bought my new microscope. Mom was not thrilled but I convinced her I needed the microscope much more than I needed aesthetics. After a few weeks, she finally stopped trying to take me shopping. Now I can’t help but think that she may have had a point. I’ve always thought of clothes and shoes as frivolous but maybe I should just consider them more variables that can be used to help prove my hypothesis true.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that in your letter this summer you said you wanted to make some changes,” she reminds me.

  She’s right. For once in my life, I’m going to be making my own decisions. I can do whatever I want, and I’m going to, starting right now.

  “Let’s go get something to eat, like pizza, or something really bad for us,” I say, jumping off the bed.

  “Now you’re talking,” Jentry replies ecstatically.

  ****

  “So, were you and Aaron having sex?” I ask Jentry, immediately cramming more pizza into my mouth, and gazing at the old photos on the walls to avoid meeting her eyes. We’re sharing a booth in a pizza place on campus. From the looks of the photos, this place has been a favorite hangout for at least forty years. I love the idea that I’m sitting in the same booth as several generations of college students before me. One photograph catches my eye and I do a double take realizing that the pants I’m wearing are almost identical to the ones the woman in the forty-year-old photo is wearing. I’m not loving that.

  “No, we were playing doctor,” Jentry responds, laughing into her plastic cup of beer. I was too chicken to order one myself. I was terrified they would ask to see my ID then they would embarrass me in front of Jentry when they found out I was only sixteen. I know I should be honest with her about my age but I’m just not ready yet. They never even carded Jentry. She exudes such an air of confidence that no one seems to question her. I imagine that she must go through her entire life feeling the way I did at my Scholastic Bowl tournaments. I was always so confident. It would be really cool to feel that way all the time.

  “Was he, you know, your first?” I ask, getting back to Aaron. I roll the cool outside of my soda glass against my cheeks to control the blushing brought on by the memory of Aaron’s dragon tattoo.

  “My first what? On campus?” She laughs, picking off a piece of pepperoni and popping it into her mouth. “Wait a minute. Are you a virgin?” She asks, her eyes huge.

  I contemplate lying but I figure I’m going to need a lot of help from Jentry if I’m going to navigate the waters of college better than I did the ones of high school.

  “Yeah, I am. It’s pathetic.” I confess, dropping my face.

  “No, it’s not, and don’t let anyone tell you that it is,” Jentry says forcefully, surprising me.

  “You really don’t think it’s pathetic?”

  “What? That you respect yourself enough to keep it until you’re in love? Not hardly,” she smiles, going back to picking off her pepperoni. “In fact, I think it is so un-pathetic that just to show my solidarity, I’m going on a boy strike. Besides, who needs boys when we’ve got each other?”

  “That’s really sweet, Jentry, but I’m sure you’ll make more friends,” I say, touched by her comment, but not dumb enough to believe that she’ll spend her time hanging out with me once she meets other girls.

  “Of course I’ll make more friends, and so will you, but we’re roomies, so that means we’ll be best friends,” she says, smiling so genuinely that there is no way I could ever doubt her.

  “I’ve never even kissed a boy,” I confess, not the least bit worried that she’ll make fun of me.

  Her head pops up and she drops her slice of pizza. “Now that is pathetic,” she laughs. “Stick with me, GK. This is going to be the best year of your life.”

  I smile and go back to eating my pizza. Move over, Grace Kelly. GK is here to stay.

  Chapter Two

  “I’m so psyched about my classes,” I tell Jentry, as we haul our new textbooks back to the dorm.

  “Sometimes you say the weirdest things.” She laughs, readjusting her heavy load on her shoulder.

  “Do you need to rest a minute?” I offer, realizing that in my excitement I’m losing Jentry. I am still buzzing from picking up my first official class schedule. I swear I almost screamed when I found out that I had tested good enough on my entrance exams to be placed in a sophomore chemistry class. I stop to let her catch up, taking the opportunity to wipe my glasses off on the tail of my button-down oxford. They are fogged up from leaving the air-conditioned paradise of the bookstore and moving into the ninety-degree day. God knows I’m dangerous enough when I can see.

  “Yes, please.” She laughs, collapsing under an oak tree on the quad. I put my bag down and slowly ease myself down. I’m wearing a jean skirt of Jentry’s that she let, or more like insisted, that I borrow. I think I was five the last time I wore a skirt so I’m hoping I don’t accidentally flash somebody.

  “My parents are going to be excited when I call and tell them my books were only three hundred dollars. We had five hundred budgeted,” I say.

  Jentry grabs my hand, and stares deep into my eyes. “GK, you never, ever tell your parents the real amount you spent on books. It’s the cardinal rule of college. That’s two hundred dollars you could use for new clothes or whatever you want.”

  “I don’t lie to my parents,” I say, pulling my hand away from her.

  “Fine, keep wearing granny panties and elastic pants,” she mutters, fanning herself with a spiral notebook.

  I grab a hold of my thick mane of hair and pull it into a ponytail using a rubber band. It is so hot today that it doesn’t even make a difference. I glance longingly at Jentry in her tank top and short shorts.

  “Stop staring at me, freak.” She laughs.

  “Do you think I’d look okay in a shirt like yours?” I ask her, pulling on my blue oxford that has zero ventilation.

  “Not as good as me, but then again who would?” She cracks herself up again. I pull a notebook out of my book bag and start to fan myself like Jentry. I turn my head to study the other students on campus. More upperclassmen are arriving every day but campus is still pretty sparse. Some students are listening to their Ipods while downing bottles of water, others are making out in front of everyone, others are just like us, trying to escape the brutal heat while hauling a hundred pounds of books back to their dorm.

  “I could use a beer right now,” Jentry says, wiping the sweat from her brow.

  “I wouldn’t turn down an iced tea,” I reply, cringing when I realize how immature my choice of beverage must sound to Jentry.

  “Waiter, one Bud Light and one iced tea, please,” she jokes, flagging down an imaginary waiter. She doesn’t seem to care one bit that I didn’t want a beer.

  “I can take our books back to the dorm if you have other stuff to do,” I offer. I can’t help feeling that Jentry is taking pity on me by spending so much time with me. Surely she will want to start making friends with other girls soon.

  “Are you trying to ditch me?” She asks, clutching her chest dramatically.

  “Of course not. I think it’s really sweet that you’ve been spending so much time with me but I know you are probably ready to meet some other people.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I really like you?” She asks, her eyes bugging out.

  Actually, it hadn’t. It’s not that I don’t consider myself likable, it’s just that people like me and people like Jentry don’t usually intermingle unless there is a lab or class project involved. As much as I would like to change the way that people see me, hanging out with Jentry isn’t going to magically do that for me. They might put up with me if I was Jentry’s friend but I want people to like me for me.

  “I know you do,” I fina
lly answer. “But I’m not sure you’ll want to spend your weekends the way I do.”

  “You can get good grades and have a life, you know.” She says matter of factly.

  I had figured out the good grades part, it was the life part I was having trouble with.

  “I can help you,” she says, reading my mind.

  “Why?” I ask bewildered. I wouldn’t be one bit surprised to see a camera crew jump out from behind one of the quad oak trees to tell me I’ve been chosen for some new reality show where a cool girl mentors a geek.

  “Why not?” Jentry replies, so genuinely that I don’t want to jinx it by questioning her more.

  “How?” I can’t fathom how Jentry thinks she can reverse sixteen years of social awkwardness but I am willing to try if she is.

  She doesn’t say a word but points toward the middle of the quad. I notice a group of freshly glossed, perfectly tanned girls strutting toward us. I can’t concentrate on their almost seemingly synchronized movements because my eyes focus in on the huge letter A they all have on their pink tanks tops.

  “What did they do?” I ask Jentry, mortified for them. The posse of modern day Hester Prynne’s don’t look like they are being publicly ostracized, actually it is quite the opposite. Everyone who crosses their path is smiling and waving, but I still feel that they must have done something horrible to be marked with the A’s.

  “They’re Greek,” Jentry explains dreamily.

  “Huh,” I grunt, confused. I always though people of Greek origin were dark-haired and dark-eyed. I would have guessed these girls to be of Swedish or Norwegian descent.

  Jentry looks like she drank a bit too much of her imaginary beer. Her eyes are glazed over and for a minute I’m afraid she might be suffering from heat exhaustion. Then I follow her eyes and can almost feel myself getting sucked in right behind her.