Hiya Readers
We’re still pretty early on in this experiment, so I’m not sure how this is going yet, but I’m still excited. I love being able to share these stories with people because they are so close to my heart, and I can only hope they become close to yours as well.
Right now, I want to share another fun experiment I’m doing: direct selling.
If you’re a reader, you probably don’t know a lot about author-retailer relationships, but Amazon owns approximately 85% of the ebook market and has no problem wielding the ban hammer. No matter what happens in the future, I want to have access to a way I can share my books and stories with you, whether they’re available on Amazon or not.
Thus, I have opened a Gumroad store for selling both ebooks and paperbacks. And you know the best part of selling direct? Those paperbacks can be signed, because I ship them to you. Awesome, right?!
xoxo Dana
Chapter Two
Despite the thick concrete walls, Val’s shower in the en suite bathroom is still discernible. I glance at the clock on my phone. She’s been in there for twenty minutes, and there’s no end in sight.
On her bed, she’s already laid out her clothes for the evening—a tight, plum-colored dress and a pair of gold hooker heels. Several pairs of earrings and an Egyptian-style pendant that reaches down to her navel sit on her desk. She’s going out tonight.
I glance through one of the later chapters in my textbook. Partial derivatives. We won’t study it in this class—probably not in Calc II either—but I already know all this. The class is a refresher.
With a sigh, I skip ahead to the next chapter and thumb through sections on relative and absolute extrema. I flip another page, and a knock sounds on the door.
I don’t want to get up, but I’m not studying—not really. I’m already caught up on all my classes.
I force myself to my feet, leaving my calc textbook behind, and march to the door. “Yeah?”
Ugh. Xander.
“What do you want?”
He forces a smile. “Hello to you too.”
The sight of him makes me pause. Button-up shirt, shiny shoes, and sleek dark jeans. Aside from the leather jacket slung over his left shoulder, this is quite a change from his typical Batman and Legend of Zelda t-shirts and Vans. Nevertheless, he looks good in everything he wears—and he’s well aware of that fact.
I raise an eyebrow. “Sure, hi.” I return to my bed, but for some reason, he doesn’t go away. I glance at my phone again. “The cafeteria closes in twenty minutes. Isn’t it a little late for all of us to go to dinner?”
Xander laughs and collapses on my giant beanbag, letting his jacket fall beside him. “I’m so not here for you.”
“Then why are you here?”
A smug grin envelops his face. “I have a date.”
“Why would I care?” I push a few loose strands of hair out of my eyes. Where was I?
Right, relative extrema.
Xander interrupts before I can immerse myself. “You wouldn’t.”
Huffing, I look up at his stupid face. “Give me a straight answer or get out. Seriously.”
He laughs again. “I’m not here for you, Dixon. I’m waiting for Val.”
Nausea wells in my stomach, and I don’t bother hiding my disgust. “You two are perfect for each other. Congratulations.”
Another smug grin. “You know, now that you say that, I’m having serious second thoughts. Maybe I should go.”
“Please. You’re a distraction.”
“I’ll be quiet.” He leans back in the beanbag, the picture of relaxation, and zips his mouth shut.
I roll my eyes and return to my book.
There’s barely any difference between working with one variable and two. This is easy. It’s the only thing in life that is.
“What’re you doing?”
I glance up. Xander’s eyes are on me, and he leans forward curiously, but he’s too far away to catch a glimpse. When I don’t answer, he cocks an eyebrow expectantly.
Frowning, I look back to the book. “I’m reading about relative extrema.”
He snorts. “What the hell’s that?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
He scoffs. “Do you have a test over it?”
“No.”
A small laugh bursts from his lips, and he scoots the beanbag closer, past the footboard. “Is your Saturday night so boring you have to resort to reading about some stupid mathematical principle that’s not covered in your class?” He leans against the bed, smirking.
“I like math.” I shake my head. I don’t know why I bother talking to him. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Xander snatches the book from my bed. “A function, f of (x, y), has a relative minimum at the point of (a, b) if f of—okay, seriously, you read this shit for fun?”
I glare. “Give it back.”
“Gladly.” He pushes the book, open to my current page, across the bed. “I learned enough about functions in high school to last a lifetime.”
“I’m impressed you know how to read it.”
“That’s not the only impressive thing I can do.” I don’t have to look to know he’s smirking.
“I’m sure you’ll tell my roommate all about your talents tonight.”
Once she manages to get out of the shower. How much of her body does she need to shave in preparation for their date?
Xander rests an arm unnecessarily close to me. “How long has she been in there? I told her eight, and it’s ten after.”
I grit my teeth. I’m tired of this conversation. I really have no interest in their evening activities, especially considering it’s no secret how often Xander’s dates end in sex.
“Dixon, are you ignoring me?”
My eyes move down to critical points, and Xander groans.
“It’s boring to make fun of you when you’re ignoring me, Dixon. But I know you can’t do it for long. You have to retaliate.”
I narrow my eyes at the page. The words are insulting—mostly because they’re true—and despite my better judgment, I shift my gaze to look at his irritated face. “What more could you possibly make fun of? You’ve already mocked my entire evening.”
His face transforms into a grin, and he leans closer. “There’s always more I can make fun of. You make it so easy—and tempting.”
I’m saved from responding by the water finally shutting off.
Val exits the bathroom and waltzes into the room wrapped in a towel to retrieve her clothes. She barely contains a shriek at the sight of Xander. “Go away!” He’s probably never seen her without makeup before.
Unfazed by her outburst, he places his hands over his eyes with a dramatic flourish. “I can close my eyes.”
I return to my notes as Val snatches the clothes off her bed and hurries back to the bathroom. When the blow-dryer starts a few minutes later, Xander gives up on covering his eyes to check his watch. “How much longer is this going to last?”
I send him a glare and keep reading.
“Forever, apparently.” He leans his head against his arm and shuts his eyes.
At last, Val returns, her hands on her hips. Her attempt to play it cool isn’t very convincing with a quivering lower lip. “Okay, you can look now.”
Between the dress, the makeup, and her styled hair, she’s trying too hard, and Xander isn’t easily impressed. He barely gives her a once-over before standing and pulling on his jacket in one fluid motion. “Let’s go.” He leads her by the shoulders, and Val scrambles to grab her purse.
As he closes the door, Xander calls over his shoulder, “Don’t wait up,” and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. The latch clicks into place behind them.
Silence.
Beautiful silence. They can stay out as long as they like.
By the time I finish the chapter on maximum extrema, I’m exhausted. It’s only 9:30, but I’m always tired—one of the side effects of never sleeping enough.
I close the textbook and push it aside. I need something, anything, a distraction.
On my desk, my phone lights up, vibrating and blasting the opening bars of Weezer’s “Troublemaker.” Not exactly the distraction I was looking for.
I stand and grab the phone. Imogene.
My finger hovers over the ‘Reject’ button before sliding over to ‘Accept.’ She’s talking before I have the phone to my ear.
“You didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, Billie.” Her normally bubbly tone is a cross between sadness and accusation. I knew this conversation was coming. “You didn’t call.”
“You knew I wasn’t coming, Mo,” I say in a small voice. “Jimmy told you.”
“Yeah, when he arrived Wednesday afternoon.”
“I should’ve called, I know.”
“Yes, you should have.” But her tone quickly loses its bite. “I miss you.”
My chest tightens. I want to tell her I miss her too, sorry I didn’t call, but all that comes out is, “How’s Mom?”
On the other side of the line, a ball bearing clinks as she shakes up a tiny glass bottle. She’s applying nail polish. “She’s getting out of the house more.” Imogene chooses her words carefully. “Doing a Latin dance class to try to keep her mind off things. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it at Christmas. It’s all she talks about right now. She says the instructor is amazingly talented.” She pauses. “You are coming home for Christmas, right?”
I nod, though she can’t see me. “They do kick us out of the dorms over winter break.”
“Good, good,” she says absentmindedly. “How’re your classes? Not failing anything, are you?”
I let out a small hollow laugh. “Won’t find out till the end of the semester, but my midterm grades were fine. Jimmy is in my American Literature class, and we work on our papers together. Not that he’s any better with English than I am.”
She leans away from the mouthpiece to blow. “Yeah, he mentioned something like that.”
I grab my wallet and head for the door, pausing when I open it. “Wait, what? Since when do you talk to Jimmy about that?”
Imogene huffs. “Since you barely communicate, Billie. I have to get news about your life from somewhere, and if that happens to be from our next-door neighbor and your only friend, so be it.”
My grip tightens on my wallet. “You can talk to me, you know. You’re just better at communicating than me.”
The short trek into the hallway to find the Coke machine is cold in a t-shirt and gym shorts. The vending machines are located at the end of the hallway, near the elevators and laundry room. Most of the rooms are closed, including Jimmy’s. With Xander out, Jimmy’s usually studying or working a shift at the Eyrie. He’s always been a shut-in like me—until Xander came into the picture.
On the left, across from the laundry room, David’s door is open, and he glances up from his bed as I pass. He lifts a hand to wave and smiles. Our RA.
“Everyone is better at communicating than you, sis.” Imogene sighs. “Except maybe Dad.”
And there’s the segue.
The carpet in front of the vending machines is worn down from heavy foot traffic. I push my quarters into the soda machine, and the clink clink echoes in the enclave as it collects my change.
Out of Sprite. I settle for orange soda.
“Speaking of him,” she says, her voice slow and unsteady, “what’s it like being around him? It can’t be easy.”
No, the meticulous effort to avoid him at all costs hasn’t been easy.
“We don’t see each other often.”
The bottle is dispensed at the bottom, and I retrieve it before taking a glance at the snack machines. I don’t remember the last time I ate.
“Billie, what’s he like?”
I move closer and pick out a bag of chips. “What, you don’t remember?” I grab it from the dispenser and turn back toward my room.
“There’d have to be something for me to remember. Someone had to keep Mom company while the two of you were gallivanting at the university and exchanging your secret codes.”
I purse my lips as I walk down the hallway again. “We did not gallivant.”
She doesn’t respond.
“He’s the same as he always was. Rides his bike to campus every day. I don’t know. We don’t see each other often. I’ve got loads of homework, and he, you know, has to grade loads of homework.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Disappointment laces her voice. “When does your break start? When will you come home?”
“It’s a couple weeks away. I think my last final is on Thursday; I’ll fly out after that.”
I haven’t even thought about travel back to Missouri yet. Jimmy booked his flight, and Xander’s flying out around the same time. They’re driving up to the Burlington International Airport that Friday afternoon since their flights are the following morning. Jimmy’s been nagging me to book mine so I can go with them, but I’m not particularly keen on an hour-drive with Xander.
“Okay.” Imogene sounds skeptical.
I pause at the door of my room. “I’ll let you know when to pick me up at the airport, alright?”
“Yeah. Mom and I’ll be there for you. Give us a little heads-up, though. I don’t want to rush over there because you forgot to tell us your arrival time.”
“Of course. I have to go, Mo.”
“Do you have plans?” Her voice bubbles again.
I almost laugh. “Does studying count?”
She scoffs. “Alright, fine. I’ll let you go.”
“Yeah, bye.” I end the call and reach for the doorknob.
To my right, the door to Room 421 opens, and the happy face of Prudence Marlowe peeks out. “Hi, Billie.” Her flowing brown hair bounces as she exits her room and locks the door.
I nod and turn the knob.
“Can you believe how long Val’s showers last?” Prudence laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever known someone who needs that much time to bathe.” She and her roommate Cynthia—otherwise known as the love of Jimmy’s life—share the bathroom with us; we see each other on a daily basis.
I shrug. “I wasn’t paying attention.” Or at least trying not to.
“Did I hear she’s going on a date tonight?” Her face lights up with curiosity, then she glances at the chips in my hand. “How do you eat that junk and stay so skinny?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, she has a date.” I push open the door and gaze at my bed before looking Prudence’s way.
“Really? With who?”
I don’t bother keeping the sneer off my face. “Xander, of course.” Honestly, I should’ve expected it sooner with the way Val’s thrown herself at him during our seminar class.
I turn back to the room and step inside. “I’m going to turn in.” She’s still sending me warm wishes when I lock the door behind me.
I take a quick drink and open up my laptop to play the soft mellow sounds of the Foo Fighters. With Val gone, I can listen to whatever I want without complaint.
From beneath the stacks of textbooks on my desk, I withdraw my most recent sketchbook, pages torn and faded, ragged edges, nearly full. Maybe the flow of ink can help me sleep tonight.
