Autofocus by Lauren Gibaldi

looks like it hasn’t been washed, and rope bracelets piling on her small wrists. I smile and awkwardly hug her back, shooting Treena a confused look, but she just gives me a go-along-with-it nod.
    â€œThat’s me,” I say, hugging her back. When she lets go, she asks how I’m doing, like we’re old friends, and it’s sweet, actually.
    â€œOh, good. This is fun,” I say. “It’s my first college party.”
    â€œIsn’t it great? Our floor is the best.”
    â€œSo you like it here? At FSU?”
    â€œI mean, it’s fine, I guess,” she says, waving her hands. “The people are great, but I’m only here because my parents said I had to go to school before joining the Peace Corps.”
    â€œThat’s—”
    â€œThey really need help out there, and I know I can do it.” She keeps talking and I nod, impressed that she wants to do something to make the world better, when, personally, I just want to find information about my mother and take some cool pictures along the way. Her views are so much bigger, more meaningful than mine.
    â€œI’m sure you’re going to make a difference,” I say, nodding my head, and kind of at a loss for what to say.
    â€œI hope so. Hey, if you come here, you should think about joining Amnesty International. It’s an amazing experience.”
    â€œAmnesty International?” I ask.
    â€œIt’s this organization that fights for human rights. Like last week, we protested in front of the capitol, trying to get more financial aid to Africa’s crappy schools. It’s really awesome; I mean, when you go to the meetings, you meet people who are just so connected, and so passionate. It makes college worth it.”
    I nod, envying her knowing, her assured way with what she wants, and her future.
    â€œThat’s awesome. I’ll totally look it up when I start school,” I say, not sure if I’ll follow up on that offer, but it feels like the right thing to say.
    â€œGreat,” she says, then turns around quickly when a girl with long, dark hair pulls on her arm.
    â€œOh! Sorry, gotta run, girl thing,” she says with a wink, then takes the girl’s hand and walks down the hall.
    â€œSee ya,” I say, and both girls turn back to wave.
    â€œSo you’re Treena’s friend?” I turn abruptly to see a guy to my right. I step back, uncomfortable with his proximity. He’s leaning against the wall close to me. He’s got black hair and a crooked nose, and is wearing a T-shirt that simply says COLLEGE on it.
    â€œYeah, I’m Maude,” I say, looking behind him for Treena. She’s animatedly talking to a few other girls, so I look back at College guy.
    â€œHi,” he says, grinning. “Are you here for a while?”
    â€œJust the week. Checking out the campus . . .” I can feelhim next to me, despite us not touching, and it’s making me feel awkward. I take another step back toward Treena’s direction.
    â€œI can show you around, if you’d like. I’m a tour guide.”
    â€œOh, cool,” I say, wondering if he’s simply a close talker, or something more. “I might need that. I need to go to the stadium tomorrow. . . .”
    â€œI’ve got a map in my room. Let’s go get it. I’ll show you the route,” he says, touching my shoulder and leading me away. I walk automatically, until I feel someone tug on my hand.
    â€œUm. No,” Treena says, holding on to me. She turns to me. “Did he ask you to go to his room?”
    â€œUm, yeah, a map,” I admit, eyeing her questioningly. And then I get that, yeah, he wasn’t just a close talker. “Ah.”
    â€œHe does this to every girl,” she says, throwing her arm around me and pushing me into the conversation she’s having. “Just ignore him.”
    â€œDid he . . . with you?” I ask.
    â€œUgh, tried, but Jill