An Off Year by Claire Zulkey Page B

up and gave her a hug, and she almost squeezed the life out of me. I’d forgotten how good and tight her hugs could be, not those floppy one-armed things that most girls gave one another. She set down her drink and sat down with a dramatic sigh. A few actual breast-feeders looked our way, irritated.
    â€œSo?” I asked. “How was Thanksgiving? How’s your family?”
    â€œAwful,” she said. “My parents have been fighting the whole time. They’re going to get divorced now that I’m in school. They don’t need to hold it together anymore.”
    â€œWow, that’s terrible. How are you dealing with it?”
    She shrugged. “It’s no surprise. They’ve been like this for a while. I’m just taking it as it comes, you know? I can’t predict what’s going to happen. Maybe they’ll actually just stay together and fight for the rest of their lives.”
    â€œThat’d be lots of fun,” I said.
    â€œYou know it. So what is going on with you?”
    â€œWhat’s going on with you ?” I asked, not-so-subtly dodging her question. “What are you taking? What’s your roommate like? How’s your dorm? How’s the West Coast? All roller skates and avocado?”
    â€œI’m taking taxidermy, fly-fishing, and home ec,” she said. “My roommate is a little gnome from Belgravia, and my dorm is actually a cardboard box. We have an earthquake every day.”
    â€œMuch more interesting than I would have expected.”
    â€œActually, I’m pre-med,” she said. “It sucks.”
    â€œSince when were you going to be pre-med?” Of all the classes we’d ditch in high school, Kate enjoyed blowing off science the most.
    She shrugged. “It was some weird whim. But I’m enjoying it. There’s this one class next year, organic chemistry, that makes everyone cry. Everyone. People are lucky to pass with a D in it. I can’t wait.”
    â€œWell, good luck with that. You’re not operating on me.”
    â€œI’m afraid you’re inoperable anyway.” She started rummaging around in her purse, which had begun buzzing, a big cable-knit thing that looked like a sweater with a zipper on it. She pulled out her cell phone, which was actually more like a mini computer. I recognized it from TV commercials.
    â€œHold on one second,” she instructed me and put the device to her ear. “Hey, rock star. What’s up? What happened with—are you serious? No way. Well, fuck him, then. Yeah. Listen, can I call you back? I’m out right now. Okay. Bye!” I looked around the coffeehouse while she talked. I didn’t know if it was rude for me to stare at her while she had her other conversation or whatever.
    â€œSorry about that,” she said, shoving her device back in her bag. “That was my roommate, Liz. Guy stuff.”
    â€œOh yeah? What’s your roommate like?’
    â€œShe’s great.”
    â€œGood!” I hoped I sounded sincere. I would have rather heard stories about a horrible roommate, one who made her own granola and washed her underwear in the sink and hung it to dry all over the room. Or, better yet, a cheerleader. I felt bad wishing that I could hear a few complaining stories from Kate, but it would have made me feel better to offer her some comfort too than to just sit there and listen to how awesome everything was.
    â€œI didn’t think I’d like her when we first met. She’s from New York, and at first she seemed, I dunno, Miss Popularity. She already knew, like, twenty people on our floor, and she brought a case of beer with her. I was, like, the two of us have nothing in common. But we got to know each other a little bit more and now she’s awesome. Really fun, really smart. We have a good time. I might go with her to her house in the Hamptons this summer.”
    â€œGood!” I said again, and suddenly felt a