Orientation was on Tuesday, but Timmory had no interest in being somewhere she didn't need to be and ditched at lunch. Classes didn't really start until Wednesday, so it was on Wednesday morning that Timmory drove Julia to campus with all the anxiety in her heart she said she didn't have. They took too long to find a parking spot. Despite its location in the heart of a small town where most students lived in dorms or within walking distance, parking at Acadia University turned out to be surprisingly hard to come by. They found a space in a far corner, and as the time crept a few minutes past 8:30, the pair scampered across campus to find their first building. It was less easy to find the room, and even less so finding a place to sit among the packed rows of seats. They had to sit a couple rows apart with Timmory opting for the chair further back, eying the boy that Julia sat next to with hot jealousy. While their professor outlined the syllabus and proceeded into the first lesson, Timmory struggled to pay attention, hastily jotting notes before her eyes drifted elsewhere, to the windows or multitudes of heads that sat before her, to Julia and the boy—her new, if temporary rival. When the class ended, she was first on her feet and shimmying to freedom, waiting for Julia at the end of her row.
They walked together outside, but Julia broke off in another direction. "My next class is in the Beveridge," she said, bracing for Timmory's melodrama.
Timmory stared ruefully in the direction of the building. "Lunch?"
Julia nodded.
"I'll meet you here." Timmory watched Julia flit away, her friend tossing one last confident smile. What did it take to be as optimistic as Julia or her parents? Whatever it was, clearly it was something Timmory lacked. She withdrew a crumpled map of the campus from her backpack, a souvenir from orientation the day before. Pinpointing her next class, Timmory cut through the mingling streams to another building.
Her second class, Geology of Earth, was in a building adorned with shiny rocks and old fossil replicates. Her quirky professor encouraged students to experience the texture of piles of dirt she lifted up in her hands. The class ended late and they were released into a surging crowd of students already on the way to their next class, and Timmory panicked, realizing she hadn't checked the location of her third class. She stopped by a second-floor window and consulted her map, only to find she had to travel all the way across campus again. Maybe she should have planned her schedule better. Ugh! I wish I knew where I was going! Frustrated, Timmory oriented herself with the surroundings of the building outside, then was distracted by migrating herds of humans below.
Among them, a man in a blond bun walked backwards, speaking with his hands to a woman and two children. Timmory watched him point. At one building, at another building. At her building, at her in the window, although he likely didn't know it; she felt exposed when the two children looked her way, and she caught the eyes of the little girl.
Then a reflection moved in the window. Timmory's attention shifted behind her, crystal clear out of the glass, the face of another student. Watching the family too. Or watching her?
When she turned the face was gone, but Timmory remembered distinctly red hair and saw him up ahead. She paid absolutely no attention to him as he walked the same path to her next class. She purposefully lost him in the rush between buildings, then spent too many minutes finding the room. By the time she arrived at her third class, Introductory Cultural Anthropology, it was already in session. Timmory peeked in and spied a mass of students staring at the professor as he reviewed office hours. She didn't want to intrude. Surely, she could just listen to him talk out here, right? But then she'd need a syllabus. What if he popped some random first day quiz? She couldn't just bust in like she was spying on them from outside. But if she walked in now, everyone would stare at her. Timmory bit her lip. It was by some miracle of God that he implored the students to turn to their neighbor and introduce themselves. That was a big part of anthropology: getting to know people, he said. Timmory slipped in, scanning for an open seat. An opportunity at the end of a row. Beside her, her neighbor's conversation was dying down. As she tucked her backpack between her feet and settled in, he turned to her with a smile.
"Hey—"
"I'm Timmory," she said, looking at him, pulling the notebook out of her backpack, looking at him a second time. Red hair.
He blinked and half-smiled. "I'm Milo. Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I didn't follow you," she said.
"Kinda think you did," said Milo, still smiling.
Timmory frowned at her neighbor, with his shaggy head of strawberry hair and mess of freckles on his cheeks. His eyes were charming and warm honey brown, and he looked tall with his long legs folded awkwardly in front of him. And he was a little attractive. She brushed it off. "If I followed you, I wouldn't be late," she countered.
"You must be a slow walker. I'll wait up for you Friday."
"Sorry, won't be in the area. Was just taking a detour."
"Didn't I see you walking out of that rock class...?" Milo's smiled still. Or maybe it was just that Timmory kept noticing it.
Timmory squinted. "I think you followed me."
"I didn't follow you," he said.
The professor started back up and Timmory sighed with relief. She eyed Milo, who eyed her back with a good-natured smirk from his smile. She continued to absolutely not pay any attention to him during class, completely not aware of each of his movements shifting in his chair, totally not seeing his elbow on the divider between their seats. When the professor dismissed them, Timmory rose and tried to make a fast exit and only stopped because Milo was the one who spoke after her.
"Hey, Tim? Timmory, right?" he asked, testing out her unusual name.
She looked at him.
"Mind if I sit with you next class?" He looked down at her, leaving the room beside her.
The question was unwelcome. "Like next Anthropology class?"
"Yeah. Well, unless we're walking to the same class again right now."
"I don't have a class. I'm going for lunch," she said, evading him.
"No way. Down in the student center?" he gawked.
"Um... probably."
Milo snapped his fingers. "You must have copied my schedule."
"Pfft!" Did he think he was smooth? "You trying to make friends or something?"
That made him laugh, which made her uncomfortably fuzzy. Talking to attractive people stressed her out. "See, I recently moved here from Halifax for school. I don't really know anyone," Milo admitted. "We walk the same way to class. Maybe we can hang out?"
Timmory strained to believe her ears. Who did this boy think he was, playing cat-and-mouse with her in the hallways, looking cute, talking her up? Had he walked out of a piece of college romance fiction? Was he pulling some trick on her? She narrowed her eyes but Milo only looked shockingly earnest, his smile disarming. Something had to be up.
"What?" he knitted his eyebrows. "Sorry. Should I back off?"
She had no good reason to actually tell him to. Timmory sighed. "I'm going to lunch with my friend Julia. You can join us if you like."
Milo looked relieved. He must have been really desperate for a friend. Timmory certainly wouldn't have gone to the same lengths to make one. "You sure? I'm just trying to get to know people."
"Yeah, it's cool." Julia could entertain him at least. Timmory would sit by and judge him. "Why'd you come to Acadia if you're from Halifax, anyway?"
He explained how even after working part-time for two years, he was struggling to afford tuition at Dalhousie and his father was going to start charging him rent if he lessened his course load. He said his mother, who lived in Wolfville, recommended Acadia. When he realized the cost of classes was leagues cheaper, he transferred his credits and moved in with her; they hadn't spent much time together since his parents divorced a few years ago, when they were all still living in Halifax, so it was nice to be with her again. Timmory caught his eye and smiled insincerely at his sweetness.
"So you'll go back to Halifax once you're done?" she asked.
Milo stuck his hands in his pockets. "Who knows."
Julia was already waiting on the lawn, phone in one hand while the other tucked blonde coils behind her ear. Her pink backpack sat evenly between her shoulders, her shirt perfectly smoothed and white runners yet muddied, as if she'd just manifested from a plane of heavenly flawlessness. Conversely, Timmory felt like a frazzled mess, her face a little red from Milo, her armpits damp, her backpack slung off one shoulder with its zipper half-open. Spotting Julia, she picked up her pace. "Jules!" The blonde looked up quizzically, but needn't ask before Timmory introduced the stranger at her side. "This is Milo. He moved here from Halifax and he has no friends, so I invited him to lunch."
Milo smiled, like usual.
Julia laughed like she was flirting. "Sure. I'm Julia."
They had barely enough time to order sandwiches from one of the booths in the student center. Timmory shoved the second half of her sandwich down her gullet with the grace of a pelican and waved her departure to Milo, dragging Julia off to their afternoon obligations. Milo cheerily waved back. After class, in the car as Timmory navigated back to Julia's house, Julia reflected on how nice it was that Timmory made another friend. She said it in a way that was familiarly condescending—but Timmory reminded her, I'm doing this for you. Besides, she wasn't expecting Milo to stick around long. University wasn't anything like high school. There were more friends to be made in his other classes, and she wasn't about to build her hopes up when they were sure to be torn down the moment she saw him talking to someone else, or Julia flirting with him again—but she was just a jealous person. She liked her solitude better than being disappointed by people. She definitely had a people problem.
Later that night, when she opened her Anthropology text and picked over the first few pages, Timmory remembered that she only ever gave up what she wanted to not be alone. It was animal nature to crave one's own kind. It was the foundations of humanity to forfeit solitude for community. It was Timmory's inherent social engine driving her to survival—so she found herself at war with her hungers and her needs, her heart and her feet. Timmory's fears were rekindled: feeling jealous, being sidelined, coming out alone anyway.
She didn't want to let Milo in. She remembered only his red hair from the dream that night: she a rabbit, and he a reaching hand.