42

Aidan

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When my phone buzzes for the sixth time in thirty minutes, Aster makes a point of slamming shut her Poly Sci text and glaring at me, then the phone, then me again. The message is clear: one of us needs to die.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a hushed voice. I scan the library, but none of the other students seem to care about the interruptions. “Wes’s mom got worse and she’s back in the hospital. I told him I’d be available if he needed me. I can’t turn it off.”

She sighs, irritated, and runs her hand through her hair. Normally sleek and shiny, today it looks tangled and greasy. The dark circles under her eyes and the ever-present coffee cup in her hand tell me what she won’t: she’s working too hard. She refuses to admit it, but she’s overwhelmed by everything she’s got going on, and the fact that this afternoon’s brainstorming session generated zero ideas for the future component of our cooperation credit hasn’t helped. The program is great and it’s what allows us to attend school for free, but it’s basically an additional class on top of an already full workload, and for someone like Aster, who’s actually acing her classes, it’s critical mass.

“Who is it?” she demands. “I don’t even care if you’re cheating on me. Just answer her.”

“It’s not a girl. It’s Shamus.”

“Tell him you’ll be at the tournament.”

Our season-ending Frisbee baseball tournament is two weeks from now, right in the middle of finals, and Shamus is going crazy trying to wrangle enough players.

“I did.”

“Then what does he want?”

I sigh. “He graduates this year. He wants me to run the team when he’s gone.”

Her brows raise. “Really? You? Does he know you hate everybody?”

“I thought he did. Maybe I haven’t been trying hard enough.”

She snorts. “Just tell him you’re not interested.”

“I did. He’s not convinced. He keeps sending me examples of why other teammates would do an even worse job.” I call up the most recent message. “Remember the time Missy called our volunteer umpire a little dick because he called her out on that double play?” I read. “It wasn’t as bad as the time she charged the third basewoman like a crazed rhinoceros and head-butted her into the stands.”

Aster snickers. “I like Missy.”

“Then you and Jerry have something in common.”

“Look.” She presses her hands flat on the table. “Just tell him you’ll think about it. Then after the tournament, say you’re not up to it. He’ll graduate and be out of your hair. And maybe next year you can find a new extracurricular.”

“I can’t find a new extracurricular. I tried four in my first year and got kicked out of all of them. They were all stupid.”

“They didn’t like your positive attitude?”

“I’m not a leader.”

“You’re not exactly a follower, Aidan.”

“I’m a lone wolf,” I say. “Like you. I do what I want, and I like to be left alone by everyone except you.”

“Maybe that’s precisely why you’re the best person for the job,” she says, totally missing my point. “You’re not trying to sell anyone a bunch of bullshit. You show up, do your thing, it’s impersonal and effective, and then you go home. Aidan, I think you might be a...” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “...good example.”

“Aster Lindsey, you take that back.”

“No. Never.”

“You know, if you hadn’t given me the blow job to end all blow jobs this morning, I’d break up with you right now.”

“Don’t talk about blow jobs in the library.”

“All right, let’s go outside.”

She points a stern finger in my face. “I need to concentrate so I can get good grades and have my law school paid for. That’s my reason for being here. You may have a different reason for being—”

“My reason is blow jobs.”

She kicks me under the table, even as she tries to stifle a laugh. “You need a reason you can expect more than once every three months.”

My jaw drops. “Every three months? Are you insane?”

Her shoulders shake with laughter as she pointedly ignores me and reopens her textbook, good and evil and everything in between.

And as I watch her work, it hits me.

* * *

The next day I drop by the PPP office without an appointment. The building is quiet, and when Becca glances up from her perch, she looks surprised to see me.

“Hey, Becca,” I say. “Is Jim in? I was hoping to speak with him.”

She checks her computer, confirms the visit is unscheduled, then slowly stands. “One second. Let me see what he’s up to.”

Moments later Jim comes out from the back. “Aidan!” he exclaims. “Nice to see you.”

I cram my hands in my pockets. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. Come on through.”

“Thanks.”

I follow him to his office and take the same seat I’d sat in last time. This time, however, I make an effort not to be grumpy or resentful.

“It’s about the cooperation credit,” I begin. “The future component.”

“Mm hmm.”

“I don’t think...” I scrutinize my tattooed hands, clutching my knees like a lifeline. “I don’t think it’s something just Aster and I can do.”

Jim’s face falls.

“It’s something everyone can do,” I venture cautiously. “I think we would all agree that this program is a wonderful opportunity, but not everyone knows what to do when something this great falls into their lap. It can be overwhelming.”

“Okay...”

“So I was thinking that the future component could be, like, a mentorship program. Where current students meet with new students on a recurring basis—maybe monthly—to check in with them. I know you try to meet with us, but there’s a lot of us and just one of you.”

He looks interested. “Right.”

“And instead of the mentorship meetings being just a basic meeting, maybe they could be, like, excursions or experiences. Something where we explore things a bit further. Not everyone declares a major first year, so this could be a chance to find a goal. Something to work toward.” I think of Aster. “Inspiration.”

Jim nods, mouth turned down at the corners as he thinks, no doubt wishing Aster were here beside me, making everything better.

“Well,” he says. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Aidan.”

It takes me a second to comprehend that he’s agreeing with me. “You do?”

“Yes. Of course. As you’re no doubt aware, the program is always short on funding, and I’ve been trying to fulfill the mentorship role myself, but there are only so many hours in the day. I love that your idea involves using resources we already have, and makes the idea of a ‘future’ something visual or even tangible for students, depending on the excursion.”

“Ah, yeah.” I make a mental note of those words. Visual. Tangible. Resources.

“Okay, wonderful. Can you put that in writing for me? You still have...” He consults the tiny flip calendar on his desk, pictures of cats in hats celebrating each month. “Four days,” he says. “Will you be able to submit a proposal in that amount of time?”

“Yeah, definitely.” If I start now and do nothing else until it’s done.

“Excellent. Thanks for coming in, Aidan. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Okay. Will do. Bye.”

I stand and hurry out of there, just as fast as I always leave, only this time I’m not fleeing, I’m running toward something. I’m running like there’s a fire lit under my ass, one that’s motivating me for the first time in forever.

A spark, if you will.