The Freshman (College Years 1)

Caleb climbs into my Range Rover and immediately takes command of the music situation. He grabs my phone and punches in my security code—that I’ve never given to him, he just somehow knows it—and opens up Spotify. He does a little searching, leans over and turns up the volume, and a familiar beat starts playing.

“Well you can tell by the way I use my walk…”

“The Bee Gees,” Caleb tells me with a grin.

I shake my head as I navigate our way out of the condo parking lot. Strummers is in the Tower District in downtown Fresno, and since I’ve never been there before, I have the directions going on my phone. As in, Siri is guiding me with her soothing Siri voice.

“So the ‘Stayin’ Alive’ guys,” I say to Caleb, once the song is mostly over and we’re on the freeway.

“Yeah. This song is fucking ancient. How old are his parents?” Caleb asks no one. “Saturday Night Fever came out in 1977. I looked it up.”

The song ends and a new one starts. Melodic keyboards play. “What’s Saturday Night Fever?”

“A movie about disco music.” I glance over at Caleb to see his expression is pained. “It’s kind of catchy, which I fuckin’ hate to admit.”

I laugh. He looks downright miserable. “Why are you listening to it then?”

“I thought it was funny.” He grabs my phone again and searches for another song. “We’re blasting the Bee Gees if we spot Gracie and Hayden in front of Strummers, okay? That’ll piss Gracie off.”

“Is that your new job in life? To piss Hayden’s friend off?”

“It’s fun. Girl reacts big. And she’s cute as fuck.” Caleb grins as he starts bopping his head to the beat of “Dreamcatcher.” He usually likes his music a little harder, so I’m surprised. “I can’t wait to see this Robin asshole.”

“The band probably sucks,” I say.

“Such a doubter.” Caleb shakes his head. “Though I bet you’re right. I looked up who was playing tonight on the Strummers’ website.”

“They have a website?”

“Yeah. Well, I think it was more Google listing the acts. A band called Bat’s Cave is scheduled at nine. I assume that’s them. Sounds like a bunch of edgy shit. I bet they paint their fingernails black.”

I say nothing, meaning I’m in silent agreement.

Caleb’s got my phone again, and he switches the song to “10 Freaky Girls” by 21 Savage, which makes a lot more sense if you know Caleb.

This song slaps. Makes me think of high school. Makes me miss Jake. It was one of his favorites. It was on the playlist we listened to in the locker room to get hyped before a game.

“Love this song,” Caleb says. “Wish I had ten freaky girls on a yacht.”

“

You would.”

“Have you talked to Jake lately?” he asks me.

See, the song makes him think of Jake too.

“He texted me a few days ago,” I say. “He mentioned he’s coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“That seems so far away.”

“It’s next month,” I point out.

“True. I planned on staying at the condo for Thanksgiving,” Caleb says.

“You’re not going up to see your family?” His parents are nice, simple people who somehow created this larger-than-life perv Caleb.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asks me.