The pledge, p.3
The Pledge, page 3
“Grass is greener, I guess.”
He chuckles, missing the dark tone in my voice, then returns to his breakfast. Dad is glaring at me, as upset as he ever gets at me. I mouth the word sorry, and then get back to eating. My stomach protests. I put my knife and fork down and instead take a big sip of my juice as Gus appears in the kitchen, dressed for school, with the Pikachu backpack I got him last Christmas slung over his shoulder. His hair is still a wild mess.
“Did you shower?” asks Dad.
“Yeah.”
“Lie jar,” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing.
Gus moans and shoves a dollar into his jar. We have one for each of our vices: me, swearing; Gus, lying; Dad, being late; and Peter, snoring—which I suspect is a joke, as it’s the only jar with no money in it.
“Go,” says Dad, pointing his knife upstairs. Gus rolls his eyes, then trudges back to the bathroom. I feel an ache inside my chest. This is my last morning here. After today, everything is going to change, and who knows if I actually am ready for this. I don’t feel safe here, but I guess I feel somewhat okay, ready enough to branch out, at least.
This is just jitters talking. I’m ready. Dr. Patani has said so, she even said it would be a good thing for me. She thinks I’m ready to start integrating into society again. And I do agree with her. I’ve made really great progress, I think as much as it’s possible while still spending most of my time in my bedroom. I’m not just telling myself this. I believe it.
I’m ready.
* * *
I slam the trunk of the car shut.
We’ve done some real Tetris-style packing, and now Dad’s Jeep is filled with all my stuff. I’ve gone through the list I made six times, to make sure that I haven’t forgotten anything. I want today to be perfect, down to every tiny detail. I have all my paperwork in my backpack, which is in the passenger seat, along with my laptop. My textbooks, which I bought online and were still ridiculously expensive, are in my suitcase.
Peter and Gus are standing on the lawn by the mailbox. Peter’s hand is on Gus’s shoulder. Dad is at the wheel of his car, his pride and joy, aside from Gus and me. He’s on the phone, talking to Grandma, already debriefing.
Peter sticks out his hand, and I shake it. Peter’s grip is too tight, and it hurts.
“Have a great time,” he says.
“I will.”
I turn to Gus, and he throws his arms around me. My heart threatens to splinter. I crouch, so I’m eye level with him. Peter seems to know he’s intruding, so he turns away. Tears well up in Gus’s eyes.
“Look after Dad, okay?”
“He’s supposed to look after me.”
“I know. But can you?”
His mouth twitches. “I will.”
I tousle his hair. “Good man.”
Gus will be okay. It might be better for me not to be around him so much, so his life can be a little more normal. It can’t be good for an eight-year-old to be around me all the time. I go around to climb into the passenger seat, then close the door behind me.
“Gotta go, Mom,” says Dad. “Love you.”
He hangs up, then turns to me. “Got everything? Phone, wallet, keys?”
I check my pockets, and I have everything. Including my Taser.
“Yep,” I say.
Dad starts the engine. Peter still has his hand on Gus’s shoulder, squeezing it tight.
I wave, and Dad pulls out of the driveway, onto the street.
There’s no going back now.
Chapter Three
“Look,” says Dad, pointing out the front window at a sign that says MUNROE UNIVERSITY—NEXT EXIT.
I pause the video I was watching on my phone, stopping Rock M. Sakura mid-sentence. She’s one of my favorite drag queens, which is seriously saying something, because I hard-core love pretty much all of them. I’ve seen almost all the seasons of Drag Race multiple times, including all the international spin-offs and all-stars. What can I say? When you’re homeschooled, have no friends, and don’t leave the house, you have the time to watch Drag Race nonstop. If I’m not watching Drag Race, I’m probably watching a Marvel movie, even though I prefer DC characters, or playing Pokémon. I read online once that sticking to familiar media is a sign of anxiety, and I am pretty confident that is the case for me. I know Drag Race, Marvel movies, and Pokémon. The odds of them triggering me are extremely low.
We go past the sign.
“Cool,” I say.
“That’s your reaction?”
“It’s a sign.”
“It’s exciting, Sam!” says Dad, jostling my leg with his free hand. “You’re going to college!”
Up ahead, the campus starts coming into view. Oh damn, this is actually happening. I’m actually going through with this. It’s such a turn for me, which in a lot of ways is the whole point. Dr. Patani is actually the one who nudged me toward this choice and told me that I’m ready to stop seeing her so much. I have an appointment booked in a few weeks, to check in, but she believes I can do this. She said she’s always happy to see me if I need to talk, but she thinks that mentally, I’m strong enough to stop seeing her so often. A part of me thinks it might be smarter to keep seeing her, especially as my life is changing, but I trust her advice. Also, it’s difficult to have a fresh start if I see her all the time.
Dad turns the radio up. “Cool for the Summer” is playing. I love this song, but nowhere near as much as Dad does. He starts lip-synching along, which brings up a lot of questions. First, when did he learn all the words? And second, why?
“Why?” I ask.
“I’m trying to hype you up!”
“I’m adequately hyped.”
The chorus hits, and Dad starts banging his head along. I know he wants me to join in, and for this to be a moment, but dancing makes me uncomfortable. I turn in my seat and look out the window. There’s a little guilt, sure, and I appreciate Dad for trying so hard, especially when Mom hasn’t even messaged me, but I’m not lip-synching. I’ll leave that for drag queens.
We pass by a bunch of large suburban mansions, most of which have expensive cars out front. The whole place looks clean, and rich, the houses all spectacularly designed, the streets pristine. Maybe students live in these houses—I don’t know who would want to live this close to a campus if they weren’t studying, and it doesn’t seem like there’s anything else too exciting out here. If there is, I haven’t noticed it on this drive.
I roll down my window and rest my hand on the edge. I have this whole day planned out already in my head. I have all the steps memorized, and that makes it easier. All I have to do is go through the motions, and there won’t be any curveballs, and I will have a perfect first day of school. It’ll be easy, and that’s what I want.
We turn a corner the GPS tells us to take, and I see it in the distance.
Munroe University.
It’s as stunning as ever and looks even better than it did on the tour. The buildings are mostly a bright cream color, with reddish-brown tiles on the roofs. And it’s so green: The lawns are bright and meticulously maintained. It’s a weirdly hot day for September, and hot, dry air comes in through the window. I tend to get sick of the rain in winter, but it’d be preferable to this.
“Wow,” says Dad.
“Right?”
“My college was a dump compared to this.”
“Really?”
“It was like a prison. This is gorgeous.”
We drive down the street and reach my dorm: Sorosiak Hall. It’s a grand building, with a triangular reddish-brown tiled roof above the entrance and white Greek-style columns out front. It’s not too far from the rest of the campus—I can see the library and a church, along with a few modern classroom buildings. On a grassy area to the left of the hall, a group of students are tossing a football to each other. One of the guys is really hot: a muscular jock in a tank top. Basic? Yes, but what can I say? I haven’t been around a guy like that in a while, and I’d almost forgotten how magnetic they can be. He could toss me like that football if he wanted to.
Dad parks and turns off the engine. I’m glad he can’t read my mind. Dad has always been cool with my sexuality after I came out at eleven, but that doesn’t mean I want him knowing my exact thoughts about the jock over there.
“Ready?” asks Dad.
“Just need a sec.”
I close my eyes and try to ground myself. I splay my hand and then clench it into a fist, digging my nails into my palm.
This is okay.
I deserve good things. I deserve to be happy.
But the truth is I deserve to be normal. I don’t want to know what it feels like to take a life. And it’s all so unfair.
“Panic attack?” asks Dad. “Talk to me.”
“It’s not a panic attack, I’m just…”
“What?”
“What if it gets bad again?”
“Then you come home and try again next year.”
I look out the front window. Peter’s place isn’t home. Plus, I don’t want to try again next year. I want this to work now. I don’t want another year of making Dad’s and Gus’s lives revolve around me. They’ve had enough of that. They need space as much as I do.
“You’re right,” I say. “What have I got to lose?”
“Exactly,” says Dad, and he puts his hand on his door handle.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and then get out of the car, grabbing my backpack and slinging it on before pushing the door shut. It’s sweltering, even though it’s not even nine thirty, and jeans were a mistake. The sky is crystal clear and a vivid, bright blue, and I don’t even want to think about how hot it’s going to get later in the day. Dad and I enter through a glass door. Inside is a large lobby area filled with students.
Dad and I go up to the receptionist.
“Checking in?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“Do you have your paperwork?”
I pull it out of my backpack and hand it over.
“Excellent,” she says as she starts entering the details into her computer. “Oh, single room, very nice.”
“He insisted,” says Dad.
I wince. I did insist. Just because I’m working on myself doesn’t mean I want someone in my space all the time.
“There we go,” says the receptionist, and she hands over a key card. “This’ll get you into your room. Welcome to Sorosiak.”
I take the card and put it in my wallet. “Thanks.”
“Now,” says Dad. “I’ve already called and been assured about this, but just to be completely safe, what’s the security like here?”
She blinks a few times, as if totally surprised by the question. “Um, no one can get into the building after nine unless they swipe their key card. The campus has security guards at night, and there are always people walking around.”
Dad doesn’t seem convinced. “Thanks.”
We move away from the desk.
I’m on the seventh floor, which I had to request because there was no way I was staying anywhere near ground level. Dad and I go down the hall. Each door has a whiteboard stuck to it, and a lot of people have already written their names on them, along with their interests. I now live near someone named Rick, who likes Attack on Titan and The Wheel of Time, apparently. He lives next door to someone called Jace, who likes football and MMA.
Dad and I find room 711, which matches the number on my key card. I scan my card and push the door open.
The room is actually pretty big. It’s the size of a usual dorm room, only there’s just one bed on the right side of the room, meaning there’s a lot of extra space where a roommate’s stuff should be. But still, the carpet looks new, and there’s a big window in the far wall that overlooks the campus. Dad and I go over and look out. From here, I can see a brass statue in the middle of the quad of Marvin Munroe, the school’s founder, and tiny figures walking around.
“Happy?” asks Dad.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Come on, gimme more than that. This is amazing!”
“Yeah, okay, it is.”
“We’re going to decorate the shit out of this place. It’s going to look so good.”
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I have a new message.
Have a good day today.
I frown.
“You okay, kiddo?” asks Dad.
“Yeah … yeah, all good,” I mumble as I type a message back.
Thanks Mom.
Chapter Four
I hang the last string of lights above my bed, and now I’m finally done decorating my room.
Have a good day today.
Mom really went all out with her message. I know I was mad about her not even messaging before, but this doesn’t feel like enough. Dad has done so much for me today, and she can’t even be bothered to call. It’s so typical of her, and yet it still hurts.
Dad is standing below me, assessing the work I’ve done. I’ve decorated the far wall with pictures of art I like. Even with all my stuff, the room still seems too big. Too empty. This whole time I’ve been decorating, I’ve been trying not to think about the message I got from Mom. If she really cared, she would’ve called.
“Happy?” asks Dad.
“So happy.”
A knock sounds on my door. Before I can ask him to slow down, Dad goes over to the door and opens it. Outside is a boy. A gorgeous boy. He’s tall and fit, wearing a tailored shirt tucked into his pants in pure, preppy perfection. His skin’s a light shade of brown, and his hair is styled impeccably, short on the side leading to tight curls. Over his shoulder is a leather satchel bag, and he’s gripping the strap tight with one hand.
“You must be Sam,” he says, walking in and offering his hand. “I’m Oren, your RA.”
“Hi.” My voice kind of hitches, so I sound like I’m unsure of my own name. Abort, abort! “This is my Dad.”
“Al,” says Dad, as he sticks his hand out, then shakes Oren’s hand. “Are you a senior?”
“Sophomore.” Oren stands up straighter. “I lived here last year; it’s great.”
Oren walks inside and checks the place out. I glance at Dad, and he mouths the word wow.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” says Oren with an almost alarming level of sincerity. He tucks his hands into his armpits, and man, his arms are nice. Boys should be cute or hot, and Oren is a devastating combination of the two.
Okay, I’ve forgotten how to talk to cute boys. I’ve never really been good at it, but now it’s especially bad. He’s just so cute, and I … oh shit.
He has a rainbow bracelet on.
If I was nervous before, now it’s especially bad. Because holy shit, not only is Oren super cute, he’s actually an option. This is dangerous.
“Thanks.”
“I live just down the hall,” says Oren, oblivious to the mental freak-out currently going on inside my head. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.”
“Will do.”
“Wait,” says Dad, stopping Oren just before he leaves. “Are there any parties tonight?”
Oren raises an eyebrow. A perfect eyebrow.
“Not for me,” blurts Dad. “For Sam.”
I cross my arms, but I can’t deny that I am curious. Even if it is absolutely mortifying that Dad is asking this, not me. It’s like I’m five years old and he is trying to organize a playdate, which is definitely not what I want Oren to think of me.
“Well, my fraternity is having a rush thing tonight, if you’re interested?”
Oren reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“What’s your number? I can text you the details.”
Be still, my heart. College was a good idea after all, if I can get a guy like Oren’s number right way. I tell him my number, and a few moments later, my phone buzzes. He’s linked me to an event called Alpha Phi Nu Rush.
“Come by the house and meet the guys,” he says. “It’s super chill.”
“Sweet.”
“Hopefully I’ll see you there,” says Oren, and he goes farther down the hall. Dad closes the door behind him, then his eyes fall on me, alarmingly knowing.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“Oh please, you’re going.”
“I’m not.”
“Come on, you’re seriously telling me that boy didn’t do it for you?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
“That’s the spirit. Come on, he’s cute.”
“Shh.”
Dad mimes zipping his lips shut. “Is there anything else you need?”
I’ve planned almost everything, so I already have all the things I’ll need for the day my classes start.
“I wouldn’t mind getting a Munroe hoodie,” I say.
“In this weather?”
Dad’s always on my case for often wearing winter clothes even when it’s scorching out. I do get uncomfortable, but sometimes I don’t want anyone to be able to see the scar on my forearm.
“For later.”
It’s part of my plan for the day: I’ve always envisioned getting a Munroe hoodie on my first day, as a sort of commemorative thing.
We leave my room, and I make sure the door locks properly behind me before Dad and I go down the stairwell.
“I think we’re going to have to have a talk about using protection,” says Dad, completely out of nowhere.
“Oh God.”
“You know about condoms, right?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a pharmacy on campus. You can get them there.”
“I know.”
We make our way across the campus, and we go into the main quad building, which is three stories tall and is built in a wedge shape. There’s a frozen yogurt store, a Chinese place, a 7-Eleven, and a sandwich place, which I suspect I will go to a lot, as long as it accepts my prepaid meal plan. Dad and I go into the Barnes & Noble.
The store is massive, split over two levels, with the downstairs area selling textbooks, while on the top there is a popular-fiction section to the right, but most of this level is selling supplies like pens and notebooks, along with countless racks of Munroe merch, proudly displaying the navy blue and deep red school colors.
