So yeah, Jonah and I are from different ends of the economic spectrum, but that’s okay because we’re students at the same college, and college is the great equalizer right? The day my acceptance letter arrived, both my parents had been emotional, knowing that the big, bright world had arrived on their daughter’s doorstep.
“Oh honey,” sobbed Trish. “This is so wonderful, you’re going to be a fancy college girl.”
“I’m so proud of you,” nodded Bob. “Hudson’s got so many resources, you’ll be able to find yourself a good job afterwards, become a professional.”
And I’d smiled at them.
“Mom, Dad, this is awesome,” I said slowly, “but I’m worried about you. The school’s all the way in New York City, and I don’t want to leave you guys out here alone, thousands of miles away.”
My mom and dad had both pshawed.
“No baby,” said my mom, shocked. “Of course you have to go, this is the opportunity of a lifetime,” she said firmly.
And my dad was just as adamant.
“Don’t let those city folk in New York scare you. You’re just as good as any of them, and besides we’ll be fine here. We were fine before you were born, Ally, and we’ll be fine again on our own,” he said with a wink. “We’re so proud of you honey, so proud.”
I nodded again, reminding myself that Trish and Bob had had lives before I came along, even if I could hardly imagine it. To me, they were just Mom and Dad, middle-aged people who loved bowling and bridge, with good jobs at the local factory, and a homey, welcoming air. It was hard to imagine them young once upon a time, but I guess it was true.
“We’re so proud,” said my mom again, beaming, “And just like Daddy says, enjoy yourself, don’t be scared of the great unknown.”
But little did they know how true their predictions were, because there are a lot of rich kids at Hudson. On move-in day, I’d hopped off the bus, struggling with my two suitcases, humping them up the hill to my dorm. My parents couldn’t afford the flight with me, but I’d assured them it was okay, I’d be fine. By contrast, there were other freshmen who’d pulled up in chauffeured black cars complete with a moving van, unloading cart after cart of things, TV’s, laptops, matching sets of furniture, it was pretty crazy since we all had tiny dorm rooms. But somehow they made it fit, cramming everything in.
And I’d met Jonah that first day, one of the aforementioned rich kids. He’d shown up with three movers, directing them as they carried things inside.
“That goes there, that one there,” he’d directed imperiously. “My clothes are in that box, careful.”
And I’d watched for a minute, astonished. Jonah was a good looking guy, quite handsome in fact, just small. Even though I’m hardly a tall person myself, he’s only about two inches bigger than me, making him undersize for a man. But you wouldn’t be able to that from the way he was so commanding, telling the movers what exactly went where.
“And my computer goes there,” he’d said, “No fool! Not there, there!”
I’d turned. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known where the computer went either, there were two desks in his room, both big enough for the giant flat-screen monitor he was losing his cool over. But maybe it was just me. I only had my little laptop that was bump-proof and bang-proof. Maybe if I had a giant plasma screen, I’d be just as sensitive.
So I cleared my throat slightly, hoping to get his attention.
“Hi, I’m Ally,” I said.
The boy couldn’t hear me over the racket, and besides he was too busy being the boss.
“No fool!” he scowled again. “That, there!”
I tried again, a little louder.
“Hi, I’m Ally,” I said again, making sure my voice rang out above the racket, the random thumping and crackling sounds of moving paper and furniture. “I live down the hall.”
And this time the boy swung around to look at me, his imperious expression melting away once he got a look at me. It was kind of embarrassing, but I’m used to it now. For most of my life I was a beanpole, a stick-thin toothpick with no curves, like a twig almost. But in the last six months, I’d filled out a lot and now I had curves to stop traffic, literally a car had almost run into a fire hydrant last week, the male driver staring at me with googly eyes, mouth open. And Jonah was no different. Upon getting a glimpse of my generous shape, he turned to face me, eyes appraising, running up and down, and then up and down again. My heart dropped. I didn’t like feeling like a piece of meat, but at the same time, I needed a favor, one that maybe he could provide.