Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,2

too enthusiastically.

“No,” I tell her.

“That’s surprising,” she says as Amos enters the room with two boxes stacked in his arms.

He sets the boxes next to the others. “Only one more load, and then that’s all.” He shoots me a smile before leaving again.

“I don’t have much stuff,” I say to Quinn. “Mainly clothes. I’m really glad you brought the futon and appliances. That was nice of you.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely fine. It’s all hand-me-downs from my older sister’s time in the dorm. She’s a junior at Central Michigan University, but she’s sharing an apartment with some friends now, so she didn’t need any of it anymore.”

“That worked out,” I say.

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees.

I quickly start putting away my clothes. The sooner I’m moved in and settled, the sooner I can walk around campus with my schedule and get my bearings. I want to know where all of the buildings are and how long it takes to get to each one.

I’m kind of an obsessive planner. I suppose it stemmed, once again, from growing up with my parents. I never knew what to expect with them. So, I liked being able to control what I could, when I could. It tamed my anxiety and brought a calmness to my life that was lacking at home. School is my domain. It’s where I shine.

Amos returns with the last of my things.

“You want to go grab some dinner?” Amos asks. “Then, we can walk around campus and find your classes.”

He knows me so well.

My stare drops to the pile of stuff I have to put away.

“You have two days to get that organized. You have time.” He chuckles. “Plus, you have to eat.”

“Okay, you’re right.” I turn to Quinn. “You want to grab some food with us?”

“Sure. You know, I had takeout from this local restaurant that was so amazing. It’s only a block away if you want to go there.”

“Sounds good,” Amos says. “Let’s go.”

TWO

Alma

It’s a hot August day with extra humidity, like most typical Michigan summer days. Growing up here, I’ve come to realize that residents must stay for the autumn and spring. The winters are long and frigid, and the summers are so muggy that one’s lips sweat.

Trucks with sofas and boxes are parked in front of the dorms. Parents are all around, wistfully aiding their child with move-in day. We pass a father lugging a large chair, who looks unimpressed. His scowl and sweat-soaked face give the impression that he’d be willing to sign his child out of his life for some air-conditioning. Right past him is a mother hugging her daughter tight; tears are falling down her cheeks as the daughter tries to pry herself free.

I look up to Amos, and he simply grabs my pinkie with his. We stay this way until we reach the restaurant.

The mom-and-pop Italian restaurant, Giovanni’s, is fairly empty, as it’s still a little before the dinner rush. There are plastic green vines with plump, shiny grapes draping the walls around the restaurant. The fake foliage circling the hostess area carries a layer of dust, which, I’m going to be honest, freaks me out. Hopefully, the kitchen cleaning crew is more competent than the dining room cleaners.

“Three, please,” Quinn tells the hostess, who proceeds to seat us right away.

I open up my menu to read as Quinn tells us, “So, I ordered the focaccia bread in the appetizer section. It came with fresh basil and tomato and melted mozzarella. It was to die for, and I’m really craving it again, but I also want to try something new, you know?”

“The mushroom risotto sounds good too,” I point out.

“It all sounds good. That’s the problem,” Quinn adds.

The waitress takes our order, and Quinn opts to try something new. Before the waitress walks away, Amos adds the focaccia bread appetizer for the table.

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” Quinn gives Amos a flirty look, which had I not told her that he and I were only friends earlier would have been a bit of a betrayal.

I haven’t known my new roommate for long, but I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. I’d say Amos would be lucky to date her. She seems so sweet.

What if my bestie and college roommate got married?

Perhaps I’m jumping the gun a bit.

“So, what are you planning on studying, Alma?” Quinn asks.

“Teaching. Probably elementary ed.”

She nods in approval. “Well, Eastern is a great school for teachers. What about you, Amos?”

“I’m going to apply to the College of Business after I get my prerequisites