Fragmented (4 page)

“Easier, but so less hotter,” I pointed out.

“So true.”

Maia and I left the library a few hours later to meet up with Lauren and Kelley for lunch. The cafeteria was less crowded on Tuesdays, and we easily claimed our usual table.

Lauren consulted her chirping phone. “Kelley says she’s bringing Raleigh to lunch again if we don’t mind.”

“Why would we mind?” I posed, digging into my macaroni and cheese.

I heard Maia sigh beside me. “She looks like what angels must look like.” Her brown eyes widened in horror. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Oh my God. Are you crushing on the new girl, Maia?” Lauren teased. “I was starting to think you were asexual.”

Maia’s head tilted forward and her dark hair fell in front of her face like a mask. “I think she’s pretty, that’s all.”

“What do you think, Harp?” Lauren turned the question on me.

I held up my hands in retreat. “I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve gone blind,” Lauren smirked. “You can still look, can’t you?”

“She’s pretty, yeah,” I admitted.

“Prettier than your girlfriend?” Lauren pressed.

Maia frowned. “When did this become a contest?”

“I was simply asking a question.” Lauren fiddled with the straw sticking out of her soda can.

“I see Kelley,” Maia announced. She waved her arms until Kelley’s face brightened in recognition from across the cafeteria.

“And your girlfriend, Maia,” Lauren murmured mischievously.

“Behave,” I hissed as Kelley and Raleigh came closer.

Kelley dumped her tray on the table. “Hey guys, look who I found.”

Raleigh scooted into the empty space where she’d sat the day before. “I hope you guys don’t mind me crashing your lunch table again,” she said.

“The more the merrier,” Maia said brightly. “How are you liking Chicago?”

“I only moved here a few weeks ago, but what I’ve seen, I’ve liked,” Raleigh confirmed. “I grew up in Boston, and I see a lot of similarities between the two cities.”

“Do you say things like ‘wicked smart’ and ‘How 'bout them apples?’” Kelley asked with an exaggerated East Coast accent.

“No.” Raleigh shook her head. “And I don’t drink Sam Adams beer and I’m not Irish.”

Lauren’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You really transferred here because Chicago has better hospitals?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding from the Mob or you’re an Heiress running from her familial responsibilities?” she pressed.

“What’s your major again?” Raleigh asked, turning toward Lauren.

“Graphic design.”

“Sure it’s not criminal justice or creative writing?” Raleigh chuckled.

“Please,” Lauren scoffed. “I actually want to get a job after college. What about you? What’s your major? What are your plans for after graduation?”

“Everyone’s so interested in me.” Raleigh looked overwhelmed by the attention, and I couldn’t blame her. It was only her second lunch with us and Lauren had turned it into the Spanish Inquisition. “Why doesn’t someone else talk for a while?” she suggested, pulling a sandwich out of her lunch bag.

“Because none of us are as interesting as you,” Lauren explained. “Well, I’m okay,” she amended, “but Kelley’s only interesting when she’s dating a tortured artist, Maia sleeps with her laptop under her pillow, and don’t even get me started on Harper.”

“What’s wrong with Harper?” Raleigh asked. I looked away from her curious gaze and settled on my lunch tray instead.

Lauren snorted. “That’s the hundred thousand dollar question.”

“What I think Lauren is trying to say,” Kelley said, raising her voice above Lauren’s, “is that we’ve all been friends since freshman year, so when someone shiny and new comes along, it’s a nice distraction to our mundane lives.”

“I’m not very interesting,” Raleigh brushed off. “I mean, besides the wheelchair, I’m pretty ordinary.”

“Maia doesn’t think so,” Lauren snickered.

I aimed a boot for my friend’s shin and connected beneath the table. Lauren slumped forward when she felt the contact. “Hey!” she loudly complained.

“What’s everyone’s schedule like after lunch?” I said, changing the subject. I didn’t have to look in Maia’s direction to know that she was hiding behind her hair.

“Astronomy,” Kelley said. “Rumor has it the first day we get to make up our own constellation out of stickers.”

Lauren snorted, having recovered from the kick to her shin. “Welcome to kindergarten.”

“I’ve got French Fairy Tales after this,” Raleigh contributed.

“That’s actually a class?” Maia asked, finding her voice again.

“Today’s the first day,” Raleigh said, “so I’ll have to let you know if I show up and it’s all a big hoax.”

When lunch wrapped up, we packed our things and discarded our trays and garbage. My three friends took off for their respective classes, but Raleigh lingered behind.

“Where are you off to next?” she asked me.

“American history.”

“Is that in the humanities building?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Do you want to walk together?” she proposed.

I inadvertently looked down at her motionless legs, and my gaze didn’t go unnoticed. “I know I can’t walk,” she said. “But it’s easier to talk that way.”

“I didn’t mean to stare,” I apologized.

“I hardly notice it anymore,” she readily dismissed. “Or when I do, I pretend that everyone’s checking out my ass, and I turn it into a compliment instead.”

Her attitude made me smile. “That’s one way to deal with it.”

It was a nice day outside and I tilted my head towards the sun. Days like this would become scarcer as fall turned to winter. The wheels of Raleigh’s chair quietly squeaked on the concrete sidewalk as we left the cafeteria in the direction of the humanities building.

“Sorry about the twenty questions back there,” I said. “I hope they haven’t scared you off from having lunch with us in the future.”

“Your friends are interesting.”

“I can’t tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing.”

She gave me a sideways glance. “The jury’s still out.”

“What about me?” I joked. “Or do I get lumped in with them as a package deal?”

“I suppose I can make an exception for you—but only because we have two classes together. I’m normally not so generous.”

“Oh!” I said, remembering. “I’ve got your psychology notebook at home. I would have brought it today if I’d known I’d be seeing you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I bobbed my head. “Yeah. I’ll definitely have it for you in anatomy.”

“And if not,” she grinned, “I’ll just have to follow you home.”

It felt like we were kind of flirting, but this could have just been part of her personality. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d misinterpreted a straight girl being suspiciously friendly. But either way, I was enjoying the rapid back and forth banter so much that I was disappointed when we had to go our separate ways to go to class.

Like many of the other buildings on campus, the humanities building had a short staircase that led directly to the front door and a long, winding wheelchair accessible ramp.

Raleigh puffed out a loud sigh. “I miss the days when I could take the stairs. These ramps take forever.”

I scratched my head, unsure of what to do. “Do you need a push?” I didn’t want to offend her with the offer, but didn’t know if it was considered rude not to help out.

“No, I’ve got it,” she said. She started up the slow, gradual incline of the zigzagging ramp. I stood uncomfortably, waiting for her to make the trek when all I had to do was climb four steps.

“You don’t have to wait,” she said, wheeling her way up the concrete ramp.

“I’m in no hurry.” I glanced at my phone to consult the time. I didn’t want to be rude and abandon her, but we only had a few minutes until the next class block began. There was nothing I hated more than being late, especially on the first day, having all of those eyes staring at me and offending the course’s professor for interrupting class.

I held the door open for Raleigh and we entered the humanities building together.

“I hope you enjoy your fairy tales,” I said.

“I thought did a pretty good impression of Prince Charming at lunch today.”

“What?”

“I thought that was sweet when you kicked your friend,” she clarified.

“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She didn’t challenge me on the lie, but her smile was knowing. “Have a good history class, Harper Lee.”

“I-I will,” I sputtered. “You, too.”

I stayed in the hallway a moment long, blinking in confusion about our recent exchange, until Raleigh turned a corner and was out of sight. Maia was right; a secret handshake would have been nice.

+ + +

I made the mistake of riding the subway that evening without my ear buds. Nothing said “Don’t talk to me” better than listening to music on the train—except for actually saying “Don’t talk to me.” I was sandwiched between a model-tall couple who only spoke very loud German and a woman who was either homeless or ridiculously rich. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

Despite the mild weather, the woman wore a long pink puffy jacket that reached past her knees. Two overstuffed couture bags that looked like they’d seen better days crowded my feet. Groceries poked out of the open zippers. Everything inside the bags looked high-end, including the chocolate bar the woman produced and promptly ate in front of me. The wide chocolate bar and its thin foil wrapping reminded me of Willy Wonka, but there was no golden ticket in this bar of chocolate.

A few people got off the train with me at my stop. It was after the late afternoon rush of those returning to their homes after working in the Loop, but regardless of the hour, the elevated platform near my apartment remained relatively crowded since it was the closest stop to the University of Chicago and the public parks that surrounded the area around the Museum of Science and Industry.

Although the train platform had been populated, with each step away from the L stop, the more deserted my surroundings became. I’d taken this route at this hour more times than I could count since I’d started babysitting for the Henderson’s, but for some reason I felt prickly and on edge that night. Lurking dark figures that turned out to be nothing but garbage cans or mailboxes jumped out at every turn, and without my music, the regular sounds of the city felt sharper and more obtrusive.

My ears picked up a second set of footsteps in my immediate vicinity. I twisted my head this way and that, but saw no one attached to the noise. No cars drove on the one-way residential streets that populated my neighborhood, making me feel even more isolated and vulnerable than usual. I picked up my pace, not quite running, but certainly lengthening my stride. My pulse quickened along with my step and the click-clack of my boots on the concrete sidewalk echoed in my ears nearly as loudly as the pounding of my heart.

The footsteps I’d heard in the distance picked up as well. They struck the ground at a different pattern than my own. The steps were getting louder and closer until it sounded like the person was running in my direction. I wasn’t about to stick around until the person came upon me, so I started to run as well.

If I was actually being followed, I should have run past my apartment building and straight to the busy intersection only a few blocks from my complex. But I wasn’t in that mindset, and I ran directly for the safety of my front door. I rummaged for my keys at the bottom of my school bag. My place wasn’t fancy enough to have a door attendant like some of the apartments in nicer neighborhoods, but it at least had a locked front door, and you needed a key to work the elevator inside the lobby.

My hands shook as I searched for the right key on my key ring, which seemed to have picked up a few more keys since the last time I’d used it. The steps were louder now—closer—but I didn’t pause to look in the direction of the closing sounds. I thought I heard heavy breathing; the person was out of breath from running.

Just as I wiggled the correct key into the front lock and twisted, I heard a familiar voice calling my name: “Harper!”

Jenn jogged up to me and rested her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. “Why were you running?”

I spun on my heel. “Why were you chasing me?”

“I wasn’t
chasing
you. I was trying to catch up with you. I called your name. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Obviously not,” I said, embarrassed that I’d been scared by my
girlfriend
of all people.

“Sorry, babe,” she shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“You should call next time.” I puffed out an annoyed sigh and unlocked the entrance to the apartment complex and let us both inside.