The Poison Apples by Lily Archer

asked.
    I chortled, not taking my eyes off the dictionary.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?”
    â€œI’ve never had a boyfriend.”
    â€œNever?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œHave you ever been on a date?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œGod. That is tragic.”
    I stared at the OED entry. Radicchio. From the Italian.
    â€œI’ve had, like, ten different boyfriends,” Kristen announced.
    â€œGood for you.”
    â€œAre you being sarcastic or something?”
    â€œNope. Not at all.”
    Normally having reddish purple, white-veined leaves. Not used in the English language until 1978. So I’d never had a boyfriend. Big deal. Not that I didn’t want one. It was just that … no guy had ever really expressed an interest in me. And I’d never met a guy I thought was that great.
    Except for that one guy in the pink shirt, the one I’d seen years before in my father’s diner. The Putnam Mount McKinsey student with the book of Emily Dickinson poems sticking out of his pocket. He was perfect.
    That guy had probably already graduated.
    Kristen snapped me out of my reverie. “… sex,” she was saying. “I’ve only had sex four times. But I plan to get a lot more practice here.”
    I nodded numbly.
    â€œI’ve already seen a bunch of really cute guys.”
    There was no way I was going to be able to focus on my reading. I put down the OED and lay on my back while Kristen chattered away about her ex-boyfriends. My heart thumping quietly, I stared at the ceiling and thought about my new life. Everything had changed so quickly. Putnam Mount McKinsey was nothing like what I thought it would be, and my memories from that very morning—Spencer standing in the driveway in those terrible high heels—seemed incredibly far away. I didn’t miss North Forest yet, not at all, and yet I couldn’t really comprehend the fact that I didn’t live there anymore. It was kind of hard to believe that I could climb in a car and just drive away from the place I’d hated my whole life.
    But could I?
    Because I was still thinking about it. I was thinking about my mom at Silverwood, sitting by the window in her rocking chair, staring out at the sinking sun. I was thinking about Candy kissing my father good night and making another snide comment about my skirt. I was thinking about Sandie and Randie squatting together under a tree and digging for earthworms.
    I was just … living somewhere else now.
    Kristen kept chattering away, and I kept nodding and saying, “Mmhm,” even though I’d stopped listening.
    Where were the people who were going to become part of My New and Better Life?
    I wanted to meet them. As soon as possible.
    *   *   *
    Early the next morning, I stood outside the student union with my fellow transfer classmates and listened to a psychotically cheerful junior scream into a megaphone.
    â€œSTUDENT LIFE AT PUTNAM MOUNT MCKINSEY IS ALL ABOUT TRUST!” she yelled.
    A couple of people snickered. Kristen, who had made a point of standing as far away from me as possible, nudged a beautiful Indian girl who was standing next to her and winked at her.
    Even though Kristen was my new Least Favorite Person Ever, I felt a twinge of jealousy. I wanted someone to wink at me.
    â€œYOU HAVE TO TRULY TRUST YOUR FELLOW CLASSMATES TO CREATE A PRODUCTIVE AND HARMONIOUS ENVIRONMENT,” the girl bellowed. “SO WE’RE GOING TO DO A FEW EXERCISES TO GET EVERYONE FEELING COMFORTABLE AND OPEN!”
    At least fifteen kids groaned.
    â€œCOUNT OFF IN TENS!”
    A halfhearted muttering passed through the crowd. I barely heard the girl next to me whisper, “Five.”
    â€œSix!” I said loudly.
    Someone nearby burst out laughing.
    â€œOKAY,” the junior announced. “ONES, OVER THERE. TWOS, OVER THERE. THREES, OVER THERE…”
    When she got to the sixes, she pointed vaguely at a patch of