Five Steps | Chaelisa

Chapter 4

Roseanne's POV

After having a cup of severely undercooked microwave ramen for dinner last night and a brown-sugar Pop-Tart for breakfast this morning, I can't put off venturing out to the cafeteria for lunch any longer.

As I step out of the elevator and into the lobby, there's a lady standing across the hall from me in the doorway of the common room.

"You here for the event?" she asks, her pink lipstick popping against her skin. "Oh, no. I'm just—" I point to the exit, but she's already talking.

"Come on. It'll be fun," she says, the natural smile on her face actually making me believe it.

I don't know what this is, but I guess it's probably better to try to meet people before I'm awkwardly looking for a table to eat lunch at.

Inside the room are about forty other people scattered around the floor and a table with a bowl of mints and a ton of bananas.

Odd refreshments combo, but okay.

I come up with a quick game plan to sit in the middle somewhere, but it fizzles out when I grab a banana from the table and someone snickers right beside me. Instead, I step around bodies and over legs until I'm all the way in the back corner by myself. Excellent start.

As the two women at the front of the room pull a big container of Ping-Pong balls out of a tote bag, I realize that I totally just walked into an icebreaker event. Not that I'm complaining. These things were literally made for people like me. It's probably the best way to force myself into some social interaction. Although, I'm not going to lie. I wish we were playing some actual Ping-Pong. That I can do.

As they're getting set up, I peel my banana and take a bite. But then I notice a boy staring at me from across the room.

I do a double take as I recognize his shaggy black hair and fitted jeans. Christopher Matthews, my workshop partner from AP English last year. I wave, and he whispers something to the guy next to him before standing up and carefully stepping across the room toward me.

Just be cool, Roseanne. Be normal.

It's Chris, I talked to him almost every day in workshop. This should be fine. "Roseanne, what's up?" he whispers, sliding down the wall beside me.

"Not much," I reply, internally nudging myself to continue the conversation. "What's up with you?"

"My floormates dragged me to this," he says, looking over at a few guys along the side wall, laughing and shoving one another like they've been friends for years, not twenty-four hours.

"Yeah, I'm kinda looking forward to it," I admit, and he gives me a weird look.

Maybe admitting you're into lame icebreakers in college was the wrong move.

It felt so different talking to him in the classroom, but it was different. There were talking points, rules, things I'm good at.

There's a lingering silence, so I take another bite of my banana to fill it.

"Uh... Roseanne?" I look over at him, midchew, and his eyes widen. "I came over here because I wanted to give you a heads-up. I... don't think those are for eating." The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk.

The women in the front finally turn around. One of them is holding a banana and a mint. The other one is swinging around a balloon stuffed full of Ping-Pong—

That's not a balloon. And those aren't mints.

"Oh. My. God," I whisper, mortified as I watch the woman roll a condom down over a banana, the one in my mouth suddenly making me nauseous as I try to choke it down.