Monkey Business by Sarah Mlynowski Page A

flavor this year, hazelnut latte. I highly recommend it to anyone like me who suffers from severe caffeine addiction.”
    His audience laughs.
    â€œSo am I your first class today?” he asks.
    â€œNo,” says the tall blonde in the front row. “We had Professor Matthews first.”
    He smirks. “Don’t worry about him. His bark is worse than his bite. Although I wouldn’t get too close.”
    Ah, the wanna-be comedian.
    â€œHe barked pretty loudly,” another student adds.
    Professor Douglas laughs a loud, room-filling laugh. “Yes, he does. And he never erases the board. Look at that,” he says, and points to the dry board. “You’d think professors would learn to clean up after themselves.”
    Layla jumps up. “I’ll do it.”
    Oy. What a suck-up.
    â€œNo worries,” he says. “I got it.”
    Ah, and he isn’t afraid of manual labor. What more could one want in a professor?
    Kimmy walks through the door, coffee in hand, Russ beside her. She laughs at something he’s saying.
    I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. I shouldn’t be jealous. Russ has a girlfriend. He isn’t making a move on my dream girl.
    â€œGood morning,” Douglas says to them.
    â€œMorning,” Kimmy says. Did she just stick her chest out?
    Douglas yawns. “I guess it’s not morning for you. You suckers had to be here for nine. I just got up thirty minutes ago. But no worries, I’m highly alert once the caffeine kicks in.”
    I don’t know if I can take an entire semester of bad jokes.
    â€œSo. Here we are. I’m Professor Douglas, and this is Intro to Accounting. Unfortunately, this is not a how-to course on how to launder money.”
    More laughs.
    Too bad. Now there’s a final I wouldn’t mind studying for.
    Â 
    Kimmy and Russ are crouched over their meals at a corner table in the cafeteria on the ground floor of the Katz building. Large glass windows are behind them and I have to squint to make them out. “I thought I’d find you hiding here,” I say to Kimmy.
    â€œNot hiding,” she says, sipping her soup. “Just eating.”
    â€œMind if I join you? What’s today’s special?”
    Russ shoves a forkful of beef into his mouth. “Meat loaf. Not bad, either.” He takes a packet of vinegar and dumps it over Kimmy’s fries. Now that’s gross. I thought I was the Grossman. Now that’s funny.
    â€œWill you two still be here after I buy my food?” I ask, trying not to appear anxious.
    â€œSure,” Kimmy says.
    â€œDo you want anything?”
    â€œNo, thanks,” they say in unison.
    â€œWhat d’ya want?” a mid-fortyish woman wearing a blue smock and a hair net asks when I reach the top of the food line.
    â€œWell, Stella, what do you recommend?”
    â€œHow’d you know my name?”
    â€œI’m psychic.”
    She peers at me in disbelief. “You are?”
    â€œNot really. You look like a Stella. I can imagine myself as Marlon Brando screaming for you to come back to me. And you’re wearing a name tag.”
    She looks down at her chest. “So what’ll you have?”
    â€œWhat’s today’s special?”
    She leans in toward me. “The burgers are from yesterday and the meat loaf is from Saturday.”
    â€œI think I’ll have a grilled cheese.”
    Next, Carl, the guy at the cash register, calculates what I owe, and tells me to slide my student/debit card through the swipe machine.
    â€œYou’ll have to type in the number,” I say. “I haven’t received my permanent card yet.”
    He eyes me with suspicion. “Why not?”
    â€œThe bureaucrats lost my picture, again.” What am I going to do about this problem? I’m going to need to have a student card by exam time. But if I apply for one in person, I’ll be found out. And probably kicked out of