A Long Way From Home

Chapter Twelve: Reflected Parabola

       "Maeve, you saw that guy, right?" Faith threw her black-hole void of death bag onto the top bunk. "Shiro? So hot. If he were a boat? He'd be a dream boat." Her manicured nails pulled down on the edges of her black beanie and covered the reddened tips of her ears.

      "A dream boat?" I raised my eyebrow at her, setting my stuff down at the foot of my bed. "Yeah, I guess so."

      "You guess? You guess!?"

      "I mean, if you're into super muscular guys in uniform."

       For some reason, that made me think of Max. He's technically a muscular guy, but more so in the toned department, less in the body-builder, rippling muscles department. And he had a uniform too, but it was coveralls. Nothing fancy.

      Faith interrupted my thought as she rolled onto her back. She stared up at the blank white ceiling, gesticulating with her hands, "Isn't that everyone's type ever!? What girl doesn't want that?"

       I shrugged. Shiro was attractive- simply an undeniable fact of the universe. He made the orange student uniform look good, which was saying something because orange is almost nobody's color. That air about him too, that was appealing all on its own. He seemed so happy just to be there outside in the desert, smiling like the hot sun were nothing at all in the world. No, not nothing. The hot sun was a part of it, all of it, and all of it was what made him happy. He was the kind of person that just seemed genuinely happy about everything.

       It's a little uncomfortable, if you ask me. But it was uncomfortable in that way where you kind of want to look away, but you can't, and then you're staring, and it gets kind of awkward.

        "Lucky we got roomed together, huh?" Faith leaned her torso off the top bunk. Her grin was bright, but it had weight beyond it. It wasn't as unadulteratedly happy. Her tan shoulders stood out against the stark white of her teeth, and it made me feel a little self-conscious.

        When was the last time I brushed my teeth? A whole day ago? I hope Faith and Matt didn't notice or anything- I don't wanna be the friend whose defining trait is bad breath.

       "Yeah, super lucky."

        The dorms weren't anything special, really. They were about the size of my bedroom at home, and I'd had that to myself. The bunk beds were pushed into the right back corner, and on the left side of the room there were two desks that faced opposite walls. Each desk had a lamp and a chair, but that was about it as far it went for furniture.

       "How do they choose roommates anyway?" The bed bounced beneath me as I plopped down on it, testing its squishiness. It wasn't as nice as my bed at home, but still comfortable. Better than couches, that's for sure.

      "They probably raffle it. I don't remember filling anything out on the application."

      "Yeah, probably. Maybe they have, like, surveillance watching us through our computers as we apply, and from that point on they run different algorithms and monitor all the film to find the most compatible roommates."

      "It's terrifying how plausible that is."

      Faith shrugged. "Technology man. Amazing yet horrifying."

        I resisted the urge to check the room for cameras. That has to be illegal, right? They can't be watching us all the time. They just can't.

       "So, what do you think about Matt?" Faith asked another question, entirely apathetic or clueless to my short responses.

       It's not that I didn't want to talk to her.

       I was just peopled out for the day.

       Traveling across the country and being bombarded by strangely amicable desert people really does that to you.

        "He'd be nicer if he didn't call me Magnesia Milk," I said.

       "He's just being a nerd."

       "Like, in a bad way?"

       "No, like in a nerd way. It's how he communicates?"

        "Like a nerd?"

        "Yeah! He's showing common interest."

        "In my name?"

         "Yes, in your name, dummy. He wanted to make friends just as badly you did."

         I raised an eyebrow. "I did?"

         "Oh, you were definitely sending off, 'I don't have any friends and I'm alone, please approach me first' vibes."

         "That's weirdly specific..."

        "I'm kind of a master at vibe interpretation."

        "Sure... Hippie."

         Faith just laughed and pulled her phone out from her back pocket. Scrolling with her thumb, she seemed to become lost to the tangible world.

        Just what I needed, honestly, no sarcasm intended. I crammed my duffel under the bed beneath me and started looking through my backpack for a phone charger. It was shoved at the very bottom, crushed and kinked by a few binders. I plugged it into the outlet by the headboard and rolled onto my side, staring at the black screen and waiting for it to turn on.

        I didn't mind it here. Sure, everything had that hot, burning smell, and the sand was already littered over the floor. And yeah, sure, the ceiling didn't have glow-in-the-dark stars and the walls didn't have Frank Sinatra posters. It wasn't home or anything, not yet, but it could be.

        Faith started playing some music. The speakers on her phone were a bit scratchy. From the slight static, I could still tell what was playing.

       "Dude."

       "What?" Faith leaned her body off the bed and her face hung in front of me, upside down.

       "Are you seriously playing The John Spencer Blues? Like that is a band you are playing?" As if to emphasize the lunacy of fate on this exact day, the word Bellbottoms echoed over and over with heinous enthusiasm.

        "If you don't like it, don't listen."

        I decided not to tell her the implausibility of her command. "No, I don't not like it. I mean, I like that. That music. Band. That band. That song."

       She stared for a few seconds. "You like it?"

       "I like it."

        I considered sitting up, but then our faces would be a lot closer together, and while I personally was not into Faith, there was a look in her eyes telling me that she was considering making out with me.

        Which was chill, I guess.

       "You actually like it?" It sounded like she did not believe me in the slightest, to state the obvious.

       "Yes, Faith. For the third time, I like that music." I did my best to not sound impatient, or at least playfully impatient. "Personally, I'm more of a Sinatra girl, but John Spencer Blues ain't bad."

       "Fate. It was definitely fate."

       "What?"

      "We met because of fate." Faith reached her hands down, dropping her phone onto my mattress and extending her palms to me. "Faaaaate."

       "Faith, you're weirding me out."

       "Shhhhh. Embrace it."

      "Faith."

      "Shhhhhhh."

      Yeah, and we'll just end it there before she slithered onto my bed like that crazy bitch from the ring and I nearly pissed myself.

        I knew this place could be home. I really did.

        I just didn't expect what that meant.