New Romantics

Chapter 19

Walking out of my morning exam of the day, I felt lighter than I had been in weeks. Though midterms were right around the corner, and my parents were still at their hotel waiting for my call, the world didn't feel as heavy as it did twenty-four hours ago.

"You're awfully smiley," Amit said as we walked across the quad, tugging the collar of his jacket higher on his chin. "Exams go well, aye?"

"I think so," I said. God, I missed the California sunshine. "We're still on for the study sprints this week, right? You know I can't take this O-Chem midterm without you."

Amit rolled his eyes. "Yes, Aria. You can." Confidence, confidence, confidence. That's what he always said. That was what I lacked. But how could a person become confident when they didn't get the answer right on the first try? How could I get the answer right on the first try when I lacked confidence in myself?

It was a vicious feedback loop.

But one that I could study out of—according to my parents and the multitude of self-help study videos I binged on YouTube all summer. In my defense, I felt much better than I had at the start of the semester. The awful grade on my first exam weighed heavily on my grade, but an A on the last four quizzes, my lab reports, and the graded homework brought my average up to the threshold of what I wanted. I was balancing on a parapet in the middle of a storm, the next semester looming behind the fog, and beyond it, my duty.

As we entered a coffee shop on Main Street, the thought cleaved through my good mood, and I returned to Earth on wobbly legs and a fresh wave of anxiety. God, it was only midterms. The semester stretched out in front of me like a race track that ended on a cliff. Next semester, I would do it all again, except with it came the obligation of more research projects, more volunteering, and more and more pressure to make it to the top. I never wanted anything the way I wanted this. But at the same time, I couldn't stand the thought of the MCAT, medical school applications, or interviews; couldn't ease my mind into the idea that I was still at the beginning stages of a decade-long journey.

I just wanted to nap and read my books.

Amit's hand on my back was a welcomed anchor. "You're spiraling," he said. "I can see it on your face."

Exhaling, I pushed my shoulders back and attempted my best pageant-winning grin. There was always time to wallow in the anxieties of the future. I needed to savor every good feeling I could get.

Just like all the good feelings Leo gave you last night...

My cheeks flamed. Damn, that pesky voice in the back of my head.

"Nope! Not today!" I sang.

Just because I wasn't a natural like Amit, didn't mean I couldn't try and try and try until I was better than some natural inclination.

A cacophony of obnoxious laughter caught our attention. A group of well-dressed freshmen boys hunched in a circle near the espresso bar, their heads ducked low as they stared at something in the center of the group. A phone, by the blue light shining on their mirthful faces. Amit and I slid into the ordering line adjacent to them, our conversation quickly turning into a bitchfest about how we both missed points on our art history assignment because of formatting—who uses the Chicago style of paper formatting, anyway?—when a chorus of voices filled the cafe.

"From the shining waters of the Atlantic! To the rustic forests of Maine! From the red stones of Oracle, we hail our Alma Mater's name!" The freshmen boys sang boisterously, their hands on their hearts. The coffee shop froze.

"Oh, give me a break," Amit murmured with a roll of his eyes. "These Pledges are everywhere. I thought hazing was banned."

It was. After the unfortunate death of a DTE pledge back in the early 2000s from alcohol poisoning, the university cracked down on pledging among the Greeks harder than any other school in the country.