“Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder,” I said.
Marcy tilted her head. “Isn’t that supposed to be absence makes the heart grow fonder?”
“Oh, damn, I made a mistake all these years.”
Everyone but Claudia laughed, and Marcy poked me with her shoulder.
“We’re going to be great friends . . . or else . . .”
“Or else what?”
“Bored,” she declared, and I laughed, too, probably the most free and honest laugh in a very long time. Claudia looked surprised, but in her look, I detected a desire to be part of whatever was forming between Marcy and me.
Something was, for sure. As our conversations continued, I did begin to feel more and more relaxed. Everyone who had advised me was so right. Attending a new school with people who didn’t know me or my family was the prescription for a healthy, happier future for me.
As we put our trays and dishes on the shelves set out for them, I happened to glance toward the far right corner of the dining hall and saw a boy sitting alone at a table. I didn’t want to stare at him, but it looked like he was staring at me. Of course, I realized he could be looking at someone near me. However, it struck me as odd that he was sitting completely alone and, instead of talking to anyone, had a textbook open. He wore his dark brown hair longer than most boys here, and he was dressed better, with what looked like a Robert Graham shirt and a pair of dark slacks rather than jeans. My father wore those shirts, so I knew about them and how expensive they were. I thought this boy was good-looking in a mature way. He had the air of someone quite self-confident.
I told myself I could be reading all this into just a glimpse and looked away quickly. But then I turned to Marcy and asked, “Who’s that boy in the corner?”
“Corner?” She looked. “Oh,” she said, dropping her voice. “That’s Troy Matzner or, excuse me, Troy Alexander Matzner the Thirtieth or something.”
“Why is he sitting alone?”
“There’s no one here good enough to stand in his shadow. Even the teachers treat him special, like he’s one of them and not us. There’s a four-point-oh without pretending. Some people think he’s gay, but I also heard a rumor that he’s seeing an older woman.”
“How much older?”
“Maybe in her thirties or something. I don’t know anything for sure, but don’t waste your time. He won’t give you a minute, much less an hour, of his day.”
“No worries. I have time to spare,” I said.
She laughed and took my hand to pull me along. “C’mon. You don’t have any homework yet. We can hang out in my room and tell each other secrets without either of us knowing what’s true and what isn’t.”
I looked back at Claudia, walking behind us, her head down.
“I should get to know my roommate, don’t you think?”
“The voice of darkness? Whatever,” Marcy said. “I’ll hang out with you guys and watch you open the coffin. Just kidding. She’s a breath of stale air.”
Just before we left Asper and headed for Cook, I looked back and saw Troy Matzner leaving the dining hall. I wasn’t imagining it. He was looking in my direction. Despite all my fears and trepidations and especially Marcy’s warnings, I couldn’t help but be a little interested in him. Maybe it was more than a little.
I turned away quickly and continued walking. The night air was chilly but sharply fresh. The moon wasn’t visible, but the partly cloudy sky gave us glimpses of bright stars and familiar constellations. There was something liberating about being away from home and away from anyone who knew me. I felt invigorated, hopeful, and especially generous. I paused once to let Claudia catch up. She looked surprised at how I wasn’t going to ignore her. She had fewer expectations for any sort of happiness than I had.
“Food wasn’t really that bad, was it?” I asked her. I had watched her picking at her food. She ate little. “Maybe you should have tried the chicken. You’ll probably be hungry later.”
“No, I won’t. Anyway, it wasn’t worse than my mother’s,” she said. “Which isn’t saying much.”
“We’re not supposed to keep any food in our rooms,” Marcy said, “but I have some great energy bars if you do get hungry later,” she told Claudia.
“Thanks,” Claudia said, “but I don’t think . . .”
“Oh, you’ll get hungry later,” Marcy insisted. “I’ll give you one to hide under your pillow or in your pajamas.”
I smiled at her. She was determined not to permit Claudia to cast a negative or depressing net over us. It amazed me. How did she become so optimistic and stay so happy with divorced parents and a broken home? Whether she was all pretend or not, I thought, she was exactly what the doctor ordered, someone who could vacuum up any sad thoughts or at least sweep them under the rug.
“You guys know that we can leave the campus on weekends, go into town and to a restaurant, mall, or movie, right?” Marcy asked as we walked on.
“No,” Claudia said, and shrugged as if to say What difference does it make?