Freshman Year: A Good Day

The train takes about an hour and a half. 

You spend most of it looking out of the window at nothing in particular. You’ve been on trains like this before—not this specific train, but trains like it, going to competitions in places that looked like this. The difference is that this time, your luggage is much heavier and you’ll be staying for much longer.

Princeton appears in the window before the train announces your arrival.

Getting from the station to your agreed upon meeting spot with Carlos takes another twenty minutes. By the time you find the Blair Arch, he is already there, staring up as if it was the eighth wonder.

"Okay, this is actually insane. You're telling me this is where we're living for the next four years?" he says. "This looks like a place where people get haunted."

"It's just old," you say. "They’ve renovated the inside."

"That doesn't make it less haunted."

You start walking and he follows.

"You're seriously not impressed?"

You think about it for half a second. "It's just a building, man."

"That's crazy. People would kill to get in here."

You think about your own acceptance letter. Full aid—tuition, housing, meals. Yet every dollar you earn between now and graduation goes somewhere that isn't here.

"Some of the little bastards basically did. Or their parents did at least. Blood money and all that." Despite your comments, you have to admit that the building really did have a weight to it. It looked straight out of the set of Game of Thrones and had the kind of gravitas only found in old money architecture.

He exhales. "I better not room with you."

“Well consider it your lucky day.”

“What?” 

"You didn't check the housing emails..? They sent it like a month ago."

Carlos immediately pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. "Oh…oh, you've got to be kidding me. I got Forbes."

"Whitman." you flash a grin at him.

He looks up. "What about your roommate?"

You check your phone again, even though you still remember the name. You've seen it before plenty of times. Competition brackets, leaderboards, and the occasional school newsletter you never read but always heard about anyways thanks to Carlos.

The two of you had become somewhat of a famous pairing—the two names from different schools that always ended up next to each other at the top of whatever ranking someone was printing out that semester. People knew her for being a genius and for being, frankly, difficult to not notice. You were known for only entering competitions that had a cash prize involved, and for sleeping through half your classes at school. 

You can’t say you’re fond of the assumptions strangers have of you because of that, but you don’t really care enough to tell them the reason.

"Someone familiar," you answer.

Carlos squints. "Why do you keep saying things like that?"

You look down at your phone, navigating to the campus map, and wave as you call back to Carlos, “See you at orientation.”

He's still squinting when you round the corner.

Whitman is built of dark grey and brown bricks, laid in irregular patterns. Although this residential building was built relatively recently, the intention of sticking to the original Oxford-Gothic architecture made it look a lot older, especially with the steeply pitched slate roofs, dormer windows, chimneys, and the ivy starting to climb some of the walls. Arched entryways are cut into the stone which leads into interior courtyards. The courtyards themselves are wide open—flat stone paving, trimmed grass and even a sundial mounted on the facade. 

It’s also louder than you expected. 

People moving in and out constantly, dragging suitcases, propping doors open with boxes. It smells less like the usual old wood today and more like the cleaning supplies and cardboard your peers brought along with them. Doors are open all along the hallway and you can’t help but catch glances into their lives. You see someone building a shelf, parents giving last-minute advice, and even someone already lying on their bed, scrolling their phone. You honestly expected to see rich kids making their butlers do all the work for them, but to your surprise, these people look mostly normal.

When you get to your room, the door is already slightly open and you push it the rest of the way.

The first thing you notice is the layout. You see a common space with a couch, a table, some shelves, a microfridge. On either side of the common room are two doors, which you’ve been briefed beforehand from the email, had keyless locks that require your id and a pin to open. The right side of the room, notably, is already mostly tidy.

The second thing you notice is Wonyoung. She is on her side of the common room with an opened box at her feet wearing a dark sweater over a button down. The sun is hitting her hair in a way that makes the rest of the room look like it is designed specifically to frame her standing there. She looks, for a moment, like something out of a painting.

She looks up at you. 

"You're late."

"It's still move-in day."

"I know. You could've come earlier."

"And you could've come later."

She looks at you for a moment. Then she goes back to unpacking. 

You set your suitcase down inside your room and look around the space you’ve been given. It was pretty small, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a window looking out to the courtyard. If you actually had things to fill it with you'd have to think carefully about the space, but you don't, so the room stays mostly hypothetical for now. 

"Three-room double, huh."

"We got lucky."

You can hear her—drawers opening and closing, things placed with intention. You unzip your suitcase without much urgency. A framed photograph goes on the desk first. Then your electronics.

"I heard you're taking Chemistry," you hear her say across the room.

You step back into the common space and lean against your doorframe. "And you're in Math." 

"Yes."

"I guess this is where we part ways, princess."

She doesn't look up. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

“Stop calling me that.”

“Call you what exactly?” You shoot her a smug grin.

She sighs with resignation. "...princess."

You tilt your head slightly. "You look like one."

"That’s not—"

"And people already treat you like one" You add, shrugging, "I'm just a man of the people."

She exhales and goes back to unpacking like it isn't worth the energy. “I’m sure people will still be comparing us,” she says instead.

"Such is life I guess. It’s not like you make an effort to stop them though."

Before she gets to respond, voices come from the hallway.

The door swings open and a tall girl with dark hair is already mid-sentence, her head still turned behind her. "—okay but did you actually read the syllabus? Because I did, and I think this professor has lost his damn mind, like genuinely, the reading list alone—" She stops when she sees you. "Oh. Hi.” She looks at Wonyoung. “This is him?”

“Yujin,” Wonyoung says.

“I’m just saying.” Yujin turns to you fully, hand extended. “An Yujin. Just call me Yujin, I’ve heard of you.”

“You’ve heard of good things I hope.” 

"People call you Prize Boy."

"I’m still mad they couldn’t come up with something cooler"

She grins at that. "I like him."

"You like everyone," Wonyoung says.

"That's not true, I have standards, they're just different from yours." She glances over to Wonyoung before turning back to you. "You're the one she's always—"

"Yujin."

"—tied with. At competitions. That's what I was going to say." She grins. It's very obvious that's not all she was going to say. 

The other one—who came in behind Yujin and has been watching all of this without comment—is Kim Gaeul. She's got a quieter way about her, short enough that Yujin’s presence almost swallowed her entirely, and yet the first thing you notice is her bright pink hair. She gives you a small nod when your eyes land on her.

"Kim Gaeul," she says.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too." A beat. "Wonyoung's mentioned you."

Wonyoung doesn't look up from what she's doing but still rushes to comment, "I mentioned your name in the context of the housing assignment." 

"She was very neutral about it," Gaeul says. Her tone is pleasant and you get the feeling that she's entertaining Wonyoung. “Sorry about this one,” Gaeul continues as she pats Yujin’s head. Surprisingly, Yujin acts as if there's absolutely nothing she can do to change her situation and just accepts her fate.

Wonyoung, seemingly having finished, picks up her bag and heads towards the door. "We should get there early." She glances at you once. "And you should finish unpacking."

"Good advice," you say, and don't move as you continue to stare at the group.

She holds the look for half a second. Then she leaves. Yujin follows, waving at you over her shoulder.

Gaeul is last. She pauses at the threshold, and bows slightly before closing the door behind her.

You take your time unpacking.

Orientation is happening outside. You expected it to be more organized given that you were in an ivy-league school surrounded by ‘smart’ people.

Groups form and fall apart. People introduce themselves, drift, then reintroduce themselves somewhere else. There's an icebreaker circle near the south end that a coordinator tried to pull you into. You get reminded exactly why Carlos is your best friend when he physically pries you away from the group.

"I'm telling you," Carlos says, "the room draw isn't random."

"It quite literally is random."

“The algorithm accounts for academic profile, for stated preferences—"

"I didn't fill out any stated preferences."

"Exactly, so how did you end up with her specifically?"

You half-listen as something across the lawn catches your attention. 

Wonyoung is in one of the circles maybe thirty feet away. Yujin is next to her, talking to the person across from them. Gaeul has her arms folded, and she's saying something that makes Wonyoung laugh. You don't think you've seen her do that yet.

You watch for a second longer than you mean to.

Then she turns her head and it lands directly on you.

You're not sure who moved first. Thirty feet of people between you, orientation noise everywhere, and for a second it's just that—her eyes, yours. Then someone cuts through the gap and when you look back, she's turned away.

"—you're not even listening," Carlos says.

"I heard you. Also, maybe Wonyoung also didn’t fill out her preferences.”

He looks at you. "Something's going to happen with you two."

"We're roommates. That's it."

"Sure."

"Carlos."

"I said sure." He holds his hands up. "You’ve officially convinced me otherwise."

You look back toward where she is still standing. She's in the middle of the circle again, saying something, and whatever it is makes the whole group laugh.

"It won’t be good for either of us.” you say.

Carlos is smiling at you when he whispers to himself, “So you’ve entertained the idea.” 

You spent the day with Carlos, familiarizing yourselves with the campus and finding out the most efficient ways to get to your classes, you both agreed it was bikes. You didn’t need it as much with Whitman being pretty much in the middle of campus, but his residential college was known as one of the worst mainly because of how far away it is from everything.

It isn’t until a little before 5pm when you return to Whitman for the Head of College dinner. The dining hall is honestly smaller than you expected, but maybe your expectation of a one-to-one copy of the dining hall from Hogwarts is the reason for that. Pendant lights are strung up from high ceilings and fairy lights dangle from the dark wood panellings along the wall. The far end of the wall includes a row of booths with high wooden dividers, which differs from the long tables comprising the rest of the room. The room is filled with students already conversing amongst themselves as they wait for the advisors to set up. 

You find a spot at one of the center tables somewhere in the middle. The guy next to you introduces himself before you’ve fully sat down. Pre-med student from a small town in the midwest. You don’t have to say much since he’s the type to talk non-stop. You’re in the middle of asking him a question after he finally stops talking when you are interrupted by someone appearing at your shoulder.

“Hey sorry—” A girl, slightly out of breath. “Would you mind switching places with me? My friend from home is—”

Midwest guy is looking at her with surprise on his face. You aren’t one to get in the way of a reunion so you pick up your tray and stand up.

"Down there?"

"Along the walls, yes. Thank you so much."

You move without really checking where you're going and slide into one of the wall booths before you register what you're walking into. Across the table is Yujin staring at you with an amused smile on her face with Wonyoung to her right, focused on her food. Gaeul is to your left next to the wall looking at you with curiosity.

Yujin looks at the empty space you just appeared in. Then at you.

"Oh this is great," she says.

Wonyoung finally looks up and notices your presence.

You sit down properly.

"Prize Boy," Yujin says. "Hi."

"Yujin," Gaeul warns.

"What? I'm just saying hi." She props her chin on her hand. "The competitions still counted, right? Also the nickname is cute."

"Yes," Wonyoung says before pausing. “The competitions counting I mean.” she clarified. 

Yujin's expression shifts. You don't quite know what it means but you catch a mischievous glint somewhere in there.

Gaeul speaks up after seeing the look on Yujin’s face, interrupting whatever she had in mind. "What are you studying?"

"Chemistry. You?"

"Philosophy."

"Originally it was Chemistry too," Yujin says.

"I was considering it," Gaeul says. "Briefly."

"She put it as her intended major on her application."

"I was keeping my options open."

"Then she came to admitted students weekend, sat in on one Chemistry session—"

"It was a Q&A," Gaeul says. "With a professor."

"—and switched to Philosophy before she even got home."

"I had time to reflect."

"It's a forty minute drive."

"I'm a fast thinker," Gaeul says.

"Was the Q&A that bad?" you ask.

"The Q&A was fine," Gaeul answers.

"She asked one question," Yujin says, "got a veeeery long answer—"

"It was a thorough answer."

"—and decided Philosophy was her calling."

"What was the question?" you ask.

Gaeul pauses. You catch a glimpse of Wonyoung holding back a laugh.

"I asked," she says, "whether you needed to be good at math."

Yujin puts her hand flat on the table.

"And?" you say.

"The answer," Gaeul says, "was yes."

Wonyoung laughs. It wasn’t the kind that you saw earlier in the day, nor the ones a few times before that during competitions. It was the kind of laugh that doesn't make a sound for the first few seconds before she finally lets it out and falls into Yujin in the process. 

“I could have helped you with the math unnie.” Wonyoung says after her bout of laughter.

“Me and Yujin are already enough of a distraction from your grand plan of world domination,” Gaeul replies.

“To be fair, while the plan is grand, it’s not exactly world domination.” Yujin corrects.

"It might as well be," Gaeul says and turns to Wonyoung. "Tell him what the plan is."

"He doesn't need to know the plan."

"The plan," Yujin says, turning to you with a pleased expression on her face, "is to become one of the most significant pure mathematicians of her generation. Publish original work that actually matters. Possibly solve something with a name attached to it."

"The Millennium Prize Problems have a million dollar reward each," Gaeul adds helpfully. "So technically—"

"It's not about the money.” Wonyoung interrupts Gaeul and looks to Yujin, “And I don’t plan on only taking Pure Mathematics, I’m going for a double major with Applied Mathematics as well.”

"I know," Gaeul says. "I was going to say technically it overlaps with your interests," she nods toward you.

You don't say anything.

"It's a serious plan," she says to you. You almost think she’s being defensive but you guess she just wants to clarify the record. “Princeton is the first step, I plan on publishing before graduating for a better PhD application. PhD in four years, then Postdoctoral Fellowship somewhere like Penn. When I get back, I plan to have enough weight through my publications to get back here already tenured.”

“So the plan is to never leave Princeton except for your postdoc. Are you staying for IAS?” you ask. 

"The plan," Wonyoung says evenly, "is to do work that matters. The location is secondary."

"I'm just saying it's a very Princeton-shaped plan." you shrug.

Yujin looks between the two of you with an expression she's working very hard to keep neutral.

“What about you?” Gaeul asks.

“What about me?”

“Your plan. What is it?”

You shrug, “I don’t really have one.” 

“Sorry?” Wonyoung interjects. She is looking at you with a betrayed face.

“Yeah I’m kinda just going with the wind. I guess I wanna continue pursuing Chemistry?”

“Damn… The IChO Gold Medalist isn’t even sure if he wants to pursue Chemistry? How does that even make sense?” says Yujin.

“Well it’s not like I don’t like it. It was just kinda forced upon me by a family friend who used to babysit me.”

“Smart babysitter.” Gaeul chimes in.

“Smart and a whole lot of other things…” you mutter under your breath. 

The advisors start the welcome speech, stifling ongoing conversations all around the dining hall including your table’s. Yujin lasts not even five minutes before she leans over towards Wonyoung and says something under her breath. 

"He said 'journey' five times. I'm counting."

Wonyoung keeps her eyes focused on the advisor talking. "Stop counting."

A pause.

"Six," Yujin whispers.

"Seven," Gaeul says, without looking up from her food.

Yujin points at her. "See?"

"I'm not counting," Gaeul says. "I just happened to notice."

“Okay, so how would you define counting then?”

Wonyoung doesn't look at either of them. "He's been using the same speech since 2009," she says quietly. "I looked him up."

A pause.

"He has a 2.4 on Rate my Professor,” she says. She leans in and lowers her voice, “The most common complaint is that he’s also been using the same script for his lectures since 2009.”

Yujin’s laugh comes out louder than she means it to and heads turn from two tables over. She buries her face in Wonyoung's shoulder. Gaeul pretends to take a sip of her drink to mask her smile. Wonyoung on the other hand, looks composed, eyes still forward, as if she hasn’t said anything at all. You catch the slightest smirk on her lips. You stop yourself from staring and continue listening to the speech.

People start moving toward the exit when the speeches and dinner wrap up. You find yourself at the table alone with Gaeul and Yujin, Wonyoung having stepped away to talk with the advisors about living arrangements and dorm amenities.

Yujin watches her go, then turns back to you.

"Soooo," she says.

"So..?" you say back suspiciously.

"How are you finding it so far? Princeton."

"It's technically not even the first day."

"First impressions count."

"Uhhh… It's big?" you say. "Old. Carlos thinks it's haunted."

"Carlos, whoever he is, is right," Yujin says. "I heard someone on the third floor of Lauritzen found a door that wasn't on the floor plan."

"They probably just misprinted the floor plan," Gaeul says.

"Maybe it's a haunted misprinted floor plan."

You eat the last of what's on your plate.

Gaeul sets her fork down and looks at you. "What do you think of Wonyoung?"

Fortunately, you don’t spit take in front of the two recent strangers. You were pretty close though. Yujin doesn't say anything which leads you to believe that they had this little interrogation planned out beforehand.

You get a hold of yourself and look at Gaeul. "I met her properly just today."

"I know. What do you think?"

"She's what I expected," you say. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" Gaeul repeats.

"She's funnier than I thought she'd be."

Yujin points at you. "People don’t usually get far enough to find that out.” She leans forward on her elbows. "She’s talked about you, you know? Not a lot. But you came up."

"In the same context of housing assignments?"

"You’re her rival," Yujin says. "That's how she put it. The only person keeping up with her." She shrugs. "She didn't say it like it was a compliment or anything. Just a fact."

"She has expectations of you," Gaeul says.

"Do you two always do this with her roommates or am I special?" you say.

Yujin grins. "You're the first roommate she's ever had."

"So special then."

"Jury's still out," Yujin says.

"She works very hard," Gaeul turns the conversation back to the matter at hand. "In case that wasn't obvious."

"It was pretty obvious."

"And she doesn't need anyone getting in the way of that."

"I'm not planning on getting in anyone's way."

"I know," Gaeul says. "I'm just saying."

A pause.

"I'll keep it in mind," you say.

Across the room Wonyoung shakes the advisor's hand and turns back toward another staff member.

"She really looked up the advisor's faculty page?" you say.

"Before she even got her room assignment confirmed," Yujin says.

"She looked up everyone's," Gaeul says. "The advisors, the res college fellows, the dining staff."

"The dining staff?"

"She wanted to know if there were any dietary accommodation options that weren't listed on the website. Excuse me." Gaeul says as she stands up. You get out of the way and she makes her way over to Wonyoung, who doesn’t look like she’s planning on stopping any time soon. “I’m gonna go save those poor souls.”

Yujin’s gaze is glued at Gaeul’s back getting farther away. She turns back to you, “If you need any help with her then just call me or Gaeul.”

“Noted, but I think I can handle it.” 

"She's very—" Yujin starts, then stops. "Okay so you know how some people are just very much in their own world? Like they have a whole system and it works and they don't really need anything from outside of it?"

"Sure," you say.

"She's that. Very that." She looks across the room towards Wonyoung. "Me and Gaeul took a while. And I'm very likeable."

"Modest too," you say.

She smiles but doesn’t take the bait. "The point is—you're not exactly a stranger to her but you're also not us. It's just a different situation." She glances over at Gaeul again across the room. "Just—yeah."

“Can I ask you a question about Wonyoung?”

Yujin straightens slightly. “What about her?” she says defensively.

“Not like that. You obviously care about her since you’re willing to interrogate her roommate. I just want this year to have as little friction between us as possible. You got any advice?”

Yujin studies you for a second before visibly relaxing. “She hates it when people lie to her, even if she finds out you did it for her own good. That's probably the most important thing for a first impression, or maybe third impression at this point if you don’t count seeing each other across stages.”

Before you can respond Gaeul appears with Wonyoung in tow, the advisor looking visibly relieved behind them.

"The communal kitchen on our floor is fully stocked," Wonyoung says, mostly to Yujin and Gaeul. "Pots, pans, stoves, an oven. Apparently most people don't use it."

"Which means it'll basically be yours," Yujin says.

"Which means it'll be clean," Wonyoung says.

"Same thing."

"The dining hall hours are also longer on weekends. And there's a late night option on Thursdays."

Yujin looks at you. "This is normal," she says. "Just so you know."

"I figured," you say.

Wonyoung puts her phone away and glances between you and Yujin. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Yujin says immediately.

Wonyoung looks at Gaeul.

"Nothing," Gaeul says.

Wonyoung looks at you.

"Nothing," you say.

She rolls her eyes but lets it go.

"We should go," she says.

"Night, Prize Boy." Yujin waves.

"Night," you reply.

Gaeul gives you a knowing look and a small nod. They go one way while you and Wonyoung go the other.

The campus at night is much quieter than it was in the day. The dark sky mixed with the yellow lights from windows, as well as lamps hanging outside old gothic buildings made the campus more entrancing. 

"What are your rules?" Wonyoung says.

You glance at her. "For the room?"

"Yes."

You think about it. “Noise is fine as long as it’s not too late. Cleaning, I’ll clean after myself. Guests are fine if they also follow the rules.”

She waits, seemingly expecting more than that.

"That's it?" she says.

"That's it."

She's quiet for a moment. "Okay."

You both walk the rest of the way to your room without much conversation. She scans her card, inputs the pin, and opens the door. She turns back to you the moment she passes through the threshold.

"Noise," she says. “After eleven, headphones or kept low. We can be a little louder since there’s space between our rooms but if I’m studying in the common room, then I expect you to be quiet. You can expect the same from me.”

"Fine."

"Guests. If they’re going to be hanging out in the common room for a while, then let me know in advance. If they’re going to be in your room for the most part, then I agree, as long as they also follow the rules then it’s fine.”

"Also fine."

"If someone's staying overnight I'd want to know. Not as a rule, just as a preference. I wouldn’t want to get surprised by a stranger first thing in the morning."

"I’m down to make it a rule."

“Deal. As for cleaning. We can alternate weeks for the common space general cleaning. Which means we still clean up after ourselves, but every Sunday, whoever’s turn it is does a deep-clean.”

"Makes sense. I can take the first week.”

She looks at you. "You're just agreeing to everything."

"Because everything's reasonable."

She seems mildly dissatisfied with this. “You don’t have any changes you wanna make?”

“You seem to have thought about this much more than I have, so I’m fine with having you take the lead.” 

She looks at you with skepticism before continuing.

“Bathroom. We can plan it when we get our schedules, and we can change it only with at least one day’s notice. I prefer it to be on the colder side, we can make it warmer for the winter obviously but we can argue about temperature later if you want. Lighting, I don’t care what you do in your room, but for the common space, I want it to be bright when I’m studying, otherwise it’s up to you. As for privacy, if I need anything from you while you’re in your room, I will knock whether or not the door is open or closed. I expect you to do the same. Anything you leave out in the common room, I have to look at, so keep it reasonable and I won’t say anything. If your items are in the way, I will move them so they’re not, you won’t have to worry about mine. During exam periods, the eleven o’clock rule becomes nine. If you’re sick, stay in your room as much as you can, if you need anything from outside, then I can get it for you if I’m free. I’d expect the same. Illness is an exception from the rules. Whoever is sick doesn’t have to clean, has priority over the bathroom, and can control the temperature.”

She finishes and looks at you for a reaction.

"Quick question actually. What would you do if I said no?"

She looks taken aback by your question and tilts her head in confusion. "Well— which rule in particular do you disagree with? If it's the noise then we can negotiate a time that works for both of us. If it's the guests, we can adjust the notice period." She pauses. "If it's the exam period rule, I'd ask you to at least try it for the first round and reasse—"

"You really have thought a lot about this."

"I'm just saying there's room for discussion."

You look at her standing there with her arms crossed, the threshold between the hallway and the common space running right under her feet. She hasn't moved since she opened the door. The room is right there behind her, and it occurs to you that she's been laying down the terms of a shared space while technically still deciding whether to let you into it.

"So if I say no… I don’t have to look for a hotel room outside campus?”

She opens her mouth and creases her eyebrows. Then she looks down at where she's standing and something crosses her face—a quick, involuntary thing, gone almost before it arrives. You think you catch a glimpse of… embarrassment? If this part of the building had a little better lighting, you would’ve seen the light blush on her face. She steps back into the room faster than necessary, putting distance between herself and the doorframe and clearing her throat.

"That wasn't intentional," she says, and her voice comes out a little more clipped than usual.

"I know."

"I wasn't trying to—" She stops, smoothing something down in her expression. "You can come in regardless."

"I know," you say, and step inside.

She straightens. "Any objections?"

"To which part?”

“All of it.”

“Then no.”

"You're agreeing to everything again."

"You present a very cogent argument," you shrug. "Is that everything then?"

"Should be. Again, depending on how the year goes, we can make amendments to the rules."

"Can I ask you something unrelated?"

She looks at you. "You just did."

"Yujin and Gaeul," you say. "Are they always like that?"

"Like what?"

"I noticed Gaeul patting her head earlier. Almost like she was a dog.”

"It’s just a thing she does," Wonyoung says.

"To everyone?"

She pauses. "No."

You look at her to try and glean something, but her expression gives nothing away. 

"They've known each other a long time?" you ask.

"Since middle school."

"And you?"

"High school." She pauses. "Yujin decided we were friends before I had any say in it."

"Sounds like her." You think about your conversation with Yujin earlier. How long she and Gaeul took to be let in.

"It is very her," Wonyoung agrees.

You’re hesitant for a second.

"So they're not like..." you say. "A thing?"

"Why? Are you into one of them?"

"No, no. I was just… curious."

She considers this. "I wouldn't know anything about that anyways. How many more unrelated questions do you have?" 

"Can I get your number?"

The question lands and you watch her connect it to the last five minutes of conversation and arrive at entirely the wrong conclusion. Something in her expression goes very still very quickly.

"I—" she starts.

"We’re roommates," you say. "And how am I supposed to let you know if someone is coming over?"

The stillness stays for a second longer than it should. Then she holds out her phone towards you, looking away.

"Obviously," she says.

"Obviously," you agree.

If this part of the room had a little better lighting, or if you had the forethought to turn on the lights, you would’ve seen her ears reddening. She still doesn’t look at you when you hand it back. "Goodnight," she says, and turns toward her door.

"Night, princess."

She stops, turning back around to finally look at you.

"I told you to stop this morning."

"You did."

"And you're still doing it." She really is cute when she’s angry. "You've agreed to everything today. The room, the rules, sitting with us at dinner, all of it. You just go along with things."

"I do most of the time."

"So why not that?"

"It’s accurate and I like how you react to it."

She holds your look for a moment.

"Well," she says with a smirk. "’Princess’ orders you to stop, Prize Boy."

She closes her door, leaving you standing there with a difficult smile on your face. You open the door to your room and are met with the scattered remains of your earlier efforts of organizing. She was right, I really should have come earlier. You’re too tired to unpack this late at night so you lay down on your bed.

A good day, all things considered. Seeing and exploring Princeton, Yujin and Gaeul and whatever the hell they’ve got going on, and Wonyoung. You think back to your conversation with Yujin and Gaeul earlier. “She hates it when people lie to her, even if she finds out you did it for her own good.” “You’re her rival.” “The only person keeping up with her.” “She works very hard.” “And she doesn’t need anyone getting in the way of that.” 

“She has expectations of you.”

She thinks of you as some academic weapon that can rival her excellence. 

You expected to meet some entitled rich kid that would pay you to do his homework for him. Instead you came face to face with Wonyoung, who you’ve learned was very easily flustered, liked very specific rules, and laughed unabated when she was around her group of people. You’ve learned of her grand plan she’s made for herself whilst she barely knew anything about you. 

Oh ever so studious, Wonyoung. 

Your small smile lasts a little longer. The room, filled with opened half-filled boxes, has gotten quiet somewhere between the last door closing and now. The only thing that looks like it belongs here is the photograph on your desk—a man and a woman. You were tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour. You just now register the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, the ceiling you look up to, the cushion of your pillows, even the smell of your sheets. No matter. You close your eyes and feel yourself succumb to slumber.

Ding!

Your phone screen lights up your dark room, pulling you back from your hypnagogic state. You bring the screen closer to your face. 

+1 (609) XXX-XXXX

Mon 3 Sep at 9:29 pm

This is Wonyoung. Just confirming you put in the correct number.

A smile creeps back. You’re just about to reply when another notification cuts through. 

(973) 607-2319

Mon 3 Sep at 9:30 pm

Morris View Healthcare Center Patient & Family Portal. Account Update: The mailing address on file for account #XXXXXXXX has been successfully updated as of September 3, 2022. If you did not request this change, please contact us at: (973) 607-2319 or email us at info@morrisview.com.

Monthly Statement - August 2022 Patient: [XXXXX XXXXX] Account #XXXX Service Period: August 1 — August 31 2022 Charges this period: Room and Board (Private): $2,840.00 Pharmacy and Medications: $287.00 Physical Therapy: $360.00. Medical Supplies and Personal Care: $76.00 Medicaid Adjustment: -$2,318.00 from Gross Charge of: $3,563.00 Balance Due: $1,245.00

You set your phone down.

On the desk, the photograph is just a shape in the dark—a man and a woman. You don't need the light to know it. You took it two summers ago, on a rare good day just like this one. She'd asked you what month it was and you told her. A few minutes later she asked again, then again after that—and the fourth time, she looked at you with this expression, completely straight faced, like she was waiting to see how long you'd keep answering. You caught yourself in the middle of your answer—you recognized it, you had the same eyes as her after all. The look that meant she was enjoying herself. Enjoying herself testing your patience, as if she didn’t know you weren’t capable of losing it with her.

She laughed when she realized she'd been caught. You laughed too, because what else could you do? Because it was funny. Because she made it funny. Back then, you didn’t think about what it cost her to do that. On good days, you didn’t have to.

Good days were like that sometimes.