Dallas (Time for Tammy #1) Read online

  “Hello?” the woman who answered the phone had a heavy Fargo-esque accent.

  “Is Linda there?”

  “May I tell her who is calling?”

  “This is Tamara…”

  “Oh,” the simple word brought to mind Minnesotans in heavy down coats with faux fur hoodies over their heads. “You’re Linda’s other roommate. Aren’t you so excited for college?”

  “Yes ma’am. I am.” I said hesitantly. I was prepared to speak to Linda about whether her VCR would support my Magnavox TV hook-up, not to have a moving-into-college-psyching-up talk with whom I presumed was her mother. After a few other niceties, Linda was finally put on the phone. Her hesitant tone did not imply she was, to put in the words of her mother, “so excited for college,” but she did confirm the VCR would be compatible with my TV.

  “So, I guess I’ll see you on move-in day,” I told her as a way of signing-off.

  “All-righty then!” Linda replied.

  Exactly at seven I headed out of my dorm. The sun still shined as bright then as it did during midday, and my body had to adjust to coming from the air conditioned dorm to the outside heat. I glanced around the courtyard. The four dorms of the complex were arranged in a sort-of deformed diamond with a lounge and computer lab in the middle. There were seven such communes—an ample metaphor considering the buildings themselves were 60’s relics—on campus. Each was named after a letter in the Greek Alphabet, and each had its own stereotype, possibly to make up for Eckhart’s long ago dismissal of sororities and fraternities. Throughout the twenty-eight dorms, two were declared to be “Substance Free,” meaning alcohol and drugs were specifically banned from these dorms. Our dorm, Gandhi, was one of them. That, combined with the fact that Gandhi was also one of the few single-sex ones, contributed to the dubious nickname “The Virgin Vault.” The other dorm on our side of the computer lab also happened to be girls only, which meant the girl-to-guy ratio was much higher in Alpha than in other places on campus.

  Only a handful of people milled about in the courtyard in front of the computer lab. Since I didn’t recognize any of them, I trudged back to my dorm room.

  “Now what?” I asked myself. My TV hadn’t been hooked up yet, and LaVerne hadn’t instructed either of us to bring a computer. I lost myself in a book for another hour before I started to hear the sounds of a party becoming full-swing. I debated avoiding the party altogether and staying in to read all night. As I picked up my book, I could hear my twin sister’s voice calling me lame. “You’re like, the Queen of the Nerds,” Corrie would tell me if she were here, watching me grasp the novel in my hand as I slipped off my shoes. I remembered my resolve to not put up the same walls I had erected in high school after Corrie and Kellen started dating. I put the book back on my desk and slid the straps of my sandals back over my ankles as I steeled myself to go back out and try to meet new people.

  The glass front of the dorm confirmed there were quite a few more people out there than last time. I pushed open the heavy outside door and walked out. I could feel my face heat up and had to fight my instincts to run back inside before the door shut behind me. It must have been my imagination, but it felt like everyone outside was staring at me, sizing me up, like there was a giant sign pointed at me declaring I didn’t know anyone.

  I headed to the refreshment table in order to have a purpose for being outside. Biting into a stale brownie, I glanced around the court. The unfamiliar landscape was dotted with unfamiliar bodies. Most of the guys in my small town Michigan high school wore plaid shirts with hoodies and Vans or Converse low-tops. The guys surrounding me now were outfitted in T’s with the sleeves cut out and sandals with the logo REEF printed across the straps. Instead of ball caps they wore flat hats with wide brims, the kind fishermen wore to keep the sun off their necks. They had strange accents and called pop “soda.” The girls wore sundresses or tops similar to mine, but without the T-shirt underneath—which was probably a good idea as I could now feel the sweat pool underneath my arms. Most of the girls had also figured out how to combat the humidity as their long smooth locks tumbled gracefully over the shoulders without a hint of frizz. Either that or they possessed tamer hair than me.

  I sipped my punch as I debated whether or not to join one of the clusters of co-eds scattered throughout the complex. But if I joined them, what would be my opening line? I was contemplating, “What state are you from?” when I spotted a familiar face. Eric! He stood next to a guy who was a blonder, frecklier version of himself. Eric lurched forward in recognition while his companion ogled a girl in a short skirt and platform sandals. I rubbed my thumb across my lower lip as Eric approached. How was it my lips were always dry despite 100% humidity?

  “Hey, don’t I know you?” Eric slurred as he got within earshot.

  “We met this morning.”

  “Yeah.” He raised his arm toward me as his body leaned backward. “You’re...” He did his best to right himself. “What’s your name again? ”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Eric wrinkled his face. “It’s Pam isn’t it?”

  “Tammy.”

  “Well, Tammy,” Eric said as his buddy gestured to him, “we’re going to get another drink. Do you want to come?”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

  “Whatever,” he replied. His companion managed to grab Eric before he teetered over.

  They headed back to Prasch, the first dorm on the other side of the computer lab from Alpha. I must have sighed audibly as I watched Eric stagger up the steps because the red-haired girl standing next to me turned her head to see what I was staring at.

  “He’s cute,” she offered.

  “Yeah, but he’s wasted.”

  She flopped down into a nearby chair. “You drink?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither. I mean, not right now. I’m trying a new beginning. You know?”

  Only too well. I sank into the chair across from the girl, grateful to have someone to talk to.

  “It seems like everyone around here drinks,” she continued.

  I shrugged. Truth be told, I had never touched a drop of alcohol in my life.

  We watched the crowd in silence. Now that the girl had pointed it out, I could see a lot of my new schoolmates did indeed look drunk as they moshed to the band playing over the loudspeakers. They also looked like they were having a better time than I was. I had exhausted my supply of nerves working up the courage to speak to Eric and now I just felt like going back to my room and going to sleep. A few couples had formed, and one duo was making out in a darkened corner of the courtyard. I could feel the gap between myself and my new peers widen. I had never even kissed a guy, let alone found myself swapping spit with someone at a party. I tried not to let out another sigh as I realized, despite the fact that I had practically moved across the country and was determined to start fresh, I was still the same person inside.

  “Hey. See the power cord over there?” the girl said abruptly. “Dare me to pull it out?”

  I looked over to where she was pointing. “That’s the stereo cord. You’d stop the music if you pulled it out,” I told her in my best Nerd Queen voice.

  “So?”

  “So why would you want to do that? ”

  The girl shook her head in annoyance, and then, having given me up as a coward and as likely to pull out the stereo cord as she was to go out and mingle, left me at the table.

  Like high school, like college.

  Chapter 2: Don't You AIM?

  The next day was the first full day of classes. I had three that morning. “Western Heritage” was a required course for all freshmen. Eckhart’s 300 or so incoming freshmen were split between twelve professors, making each class size relatively small—which was one of the college’s biggest selling points, besides the weather and ocean-front views. No one from my dorm was in my Heritage class, but I recognized one or two from my complex. The professor seemed nice enough.

  In contrast to my Heritage profes
sor—who was still in possession of most of his hair and told us all to call him “Alan,”—the professor for my marine invertebrate lab requirement had to have been at least eighty and looked to be a marine invertebrate himself. “Look around at your peers,” he commanded us from behind the lectern.

  I glanced around the nearly-full lecture hall. There had to be almost seventy of us. So much for small class sizes.

  “You are all here because this class acts as an intro to marine biology. However, most of you will not be graduating as marine biology majors. The majority of the people sitting in this room will not be continuing on in that tract after next year.” The professor stepped down from the dais to come closer to the edge of the stage. “In fact, most of you will be dropping this class before the end of the semester. Some of you will drop it by the end of today.” From my vantage point in the back of the room, it seemed he was not much taller than the podium behind him. “So… let’s weed out the easy ones. How many of you are here to be dolphin trainers?”

  Quite a few people slowly raised their hands. I sat back, arms crossed. I’d always been more into fish than mammals.

  “Humph. You need a psychology degree, not marine biology. Once you get that, you will need to claw your way to find a job—I won’t say to the top as you will be working 365 days a year at minimum wage, 366 for leap years. Not to mention you’ll have to find a partner who doesn’t mind you smelling like fish.”

  One guy sitting in the third row slammed his notebook shut and shoved it into his bag.

  “And how many of the rest of you expect to have a job at the end of four years?” The professor climbed back up behind the podium as the guy in front of me negotiated his way through his row and out the door.

  The majority of the people in the room, including me this time, lifted their hands into the air.

  “Not without at least two more years of schooling if not a full-on PhD if you are counting on making ends nearly meet. That is after you receive your purloined degree from Eckhart, where you will navigate your way through increasingly tougher classes.”

  My arms went back to encircle my chest as the people around me exchanged worried looks.

  “And so.” The professor's eyes became even more glass-like behind his thick frames as another group of students quietly left the lecture hall. “Let us begin with the phylum Arthropoda.”

  My last class that morning was Calculus, another requirement for my esteemed degree. The professor was tall and round with an unplaceable accent. He spent the hour writing with a dry-erase marker and talking to the whiteboard, his back facing us. As he moved, his protruding belly wiped away some of the marker.

  “Are you wish me?” he finally addressed the class. The entire length of the whiteboard was covered with alien writing, like something out a sci-fi movie.

  “Are you wishing?” the person in front of me asked. He (she?) had glossy brown hair that hung straight down his (her?) back.

  “Wish me. Are you wish me?” the professor repeated.

  “Wishing to get out of this class,” Glossy Hair half-whispered.

  “Are you with me?” a girl to my right hissed.

  “No. No, I’m not with you at all.” Glossy Hair turned sideways to glare at the hisser and I could see it was definitely a boy. I silently agreed with him as I took stock of the half-erased mosaic on the whiteboard.

  After that gem of a class let out, I walked toward the campus’s only cafeteria. I had been living on the cereal and milk my parents had bought before they skipped town, and hadn’t actually been to the cafeteria yet. I was afraid I wouldn’t have anyone to sit with. Simple statistics—the fact that I had two roommates—would conclude I should always have someone to eat with, but Linda and LaVerne, my supposed-to-be-automatic-lunch-companions had been absent for every meal. And the necessities of being out of milk and a growling stomach were forcing me to go it alone.

  My initial impression was it wasn’t the Troll Cave I had feared. The rectangular building was made of glass on two sides, which caused light to filter throughout the room. It was slightly crowded, but food and table-wise there were a lot of different options. I filled my tray with a veggie burger, fries, and a diet pop and then contemplated where to sit. I cast my eyes quickly around the cafeteria, conscious of the way I held my tray. I couldn’t wait too long or people would figure out I didn’t have anyone to eat with.

  I spotted the red-haired girl from the complex party, the one who wanted to pull out the stereo cord. She sat at a four-top table with a mousy-looking girl who seemed familiar. The Mouse didn’t look my way while the other girl gave me the evil eye as I approached.

  “Is anyone sitting here?” I asked. The problem with a four-top was that it was exclusive. If they were expecting more than one more person, perhaps someone whose roommate actually deigned to accompany them, my presence would be unwanted.

  But the red-haired girl slid her tray over and gestured toward one of the empty seats.

  I arranged my tray and prepared to introduce myself, but neither girl made eye contact with me. The mousy girl stared at her food without eating it, and the other girl shoveled food into her mouth while furtively scanning the tables around us. I started inhaling my food. I didn’t want them to finish their lunch and then get up and leave me at the table alone.

  A new tray landed loudly on our table as a guy sat down in the chair across from me without asking if it was occupied. All three of us gaped at the newcomer. He didn’t look like a typical college freshman. He had a shaved head, a full grown beard, and looked, well, manly. He didn’t introduce himself either. I was starting to get the feeling social norms didn’t apply to the students of Eckhart College. I continued to hurriedly spoon food by the forkful into my mouth, spurred on by the scowl that never left the newcomer’s face.

  In the middle of my last bite of veggie burger, the man threw down his fork, causing the other girls and I to jump. “It’s too loud in here for me to eat.” He glared at each of us in turn, as if, despite the fact we had been sitting in silence for the past ten minutes, that was somehow our fault. He picked up his tray, threw it onto the conveyor belt behind him and headed out of the cafeteria.

  “What was that all about?” I asked the other girls, stunned enough to end my silence.

  “I don’t know,” the red-haired girl replied, staring out toward the cafeteria exit. “But I think I just fell in love.”

  “I’m Tammy,” I told her, sensing a change from her earlier mood.

  “Jane. What country do you think that guy was from?”

  “I heard he was from Trinidad. He’s on the basketball team and he’s like 25,” the other girl said.

  I learned two things from the remainder of that first lunch. One, stated matter-of-factly from Jane, was that she and the mousy girl—Pam—were roommates. The other was implied: that in the tiny, 1500-student college we now attended, gossip flowed freely, and Jane’s new roommate was a rumor spreading center.

  I placed my tray on the rack in tandem with Pam’s full tray and Jane’s empty one.

  “Well, I’ll see you guys later, I guess,” I told them as we headed out of the cafeteria.

  “Aren’t you going back to the dorm?” Pam asked.

  I nodded.

  “We are too.” Instead of turning left toward every other dorm on campus, they were following me, meaning they were also heading back to my complex.

  “Are you guys from Alpha?”

  “Duh,” Jane said. “We live in your dorm.”

  “Oh.”

  “But we’re upstairs, so that’s why you don’t recognize us.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really recognize anyone.”

  “Don’t you AIM?” Pam the Mouse asked.

  “Aim for what?”

  “No. AIM stands for AOL Instant Messenger. I met all kinds of people online before I came here.”

  “No. I don’t AIM,” I told her as we reached Gandhi.

  “Oh,” she said, heading up the outside stairs.
“I guess that means you will have to meet people the old-fashioned way.”

  Jane rolled her eyes as her roommate entered the dorm. “Don’t mind her. She’s from Wisconsin.”

  “I’m from the Midwest too. Michigan.”

  “Oh. Never been to either,” Jane sat down on the same picnic table from last night, only this time she sat on the top of it. “I’m from Rhode Island.” She emphasized the I, as in ‘Eye-land.’ “What’s your major?”

  “Marine biology.”

  “You’re one of them?” She looked me up and down. “I didn’t think you were.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you know half of our incoming class is a marine bio major?”

  I shook my head as she continued. “Yeah, the dropout rate is something like 80%. I heard they give you guys really bad classes to make you change your major right away.”

  I thought back to my Bunsen-from-the-Muppets-like marine invertebrate professor. “Not me. I’ve wanted to be a marine biologist forever…what are you majoring in?”

  “Pre-med.”

  Now it was my turn to eye her up and down. She was a few inches taller than me and much more slender. Her red hair was pulled back off her face, revealing a high forehead and liquid brown eyes framed by pale lashes. She looked too elegant to be pre-med, but of course I didn’t say that to her. “I didn’t even know they had pre-med here.”

  “Yeah, well, they have to have other majors. What are all the people who drop out of marine bio going to change to?”

  “Probably not pre-med.”

  “Right.” She hopped down off the picnic table. “I gotta get ready for my afternoon class.”

  “Have fun!” I replied in a too-bright voice.

  “Yeah. And good luck with the marine bio thing.”

  The disappointment mounted as she started walking toward the stairs. I was really hoping Jane might have become a friend.