"Cooney, Linda A - Freshman Dorm 04 - Freshman Nights" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cooney Linda A)

Freshman04 - Freshman Nights - Cooney, Linda A.

One.
Faith wasn't paying attention. Every time I she tried to focus on something, thoughts of Christopher Hammond swirled in her brain.
"Faith, are you going to use that washing machine?"
"What, Winnie?"
"I'll use it," KC interrupted. "I should wash this dumb T-shirt more than once to make sure it looks like I've actually worn it."
"Throw it in with my stuff," Winnie joked. "Most of my clothes have been sitting in the bottom of my closet for so long, they look more than worn. They look digested."
KC laughed, and Faith turned away. It was Sunday night and the three best friends were doing laundry in the basement of Forest Hall, Winnie's dorm. Faith had her normal load of overalls and lacy blouses. KC was only concerned with her single, unworn T-shirt. Meanwhile, Winnie was sorting through nearly six weeks' worth of balled-up running tights, halter tops, boxer shorts, miniskirts, and day-glo sweaters.
"So, KC," Winnie chattered brightly, "what's the big deal with this T-shirt?" She held up the unworn tie-dyed shirt. It said, Presenting Kahia Cayanne Angeletti: University of Springfield Freshman Extraordinaire.
KC grabbed the T-shirt away and pitched it in with Faith's load of wash.
"Don't be so heartless, KC. I think the shirt is very you." Winnie laughed. "I can just see it with one of your blazers and dress-for-success skirts. Don't you think so, Faith?"
"Hm?" Faith glanced up from a washer and tossed back her braid. She stared at the machine's coin slot. She couldn't remember what she'd been doing. "Oh, sure, Win. Sure. It would look great. Anything looks great on KC."
"Look, Win," stated KC in a matter-of-fact voice, "my parents gave me that T-shirt as part of my high-school-graduation present." She shook her head,
making her dark curls wobble. Her beautiful face looked as perfect as a cover girl's.
"So?"
"So I asked them for a briefcase and a computer. I got the briefcase, but instead of a computer I got a book on managing stress through health foods, plus that T-shirt." KC turned away and stuck two quarters in the candy machine.
Faith forced herself to get back into the conversation. "Maybe your parents couldn't afford a computer," she mentioned, breaking open a miniature box of soap. White powder spilled onto the concrete floor. "At least you got the briefcase."
"Faith, you are so nice-you always see the bright side," KC commented. "I just can't believe my hippie parents ever thought Fd like that T-shirt. As if I'd want to be seen in tie-dye, or have people know the ridiculous name they gave me."
"I like your real name." Winnie giggled. "It's exotic."
"Right. I can just see myself going in for some corporate job interview and saying, 'Like hi, my name is Kahia Cayanne.'"
"KC!" Winnie made a face, stretching her mouth and sticking out her tongue. "Where's your sense of humor?"
"A sense of humor, Winnie, is not what helps you get ahead." KC fished a chocolate bar out of
the candy machine, then threw the wrapper in the trash.
Faith watched Winnie push quarters into a washer and made herself do the same. They plopped onto a bench and stared at the dryers, the mailboxes, the video game, and balls of lint. There was the sound of water being pumped into the machines and the lingering smell of bleach.
KC flung open her Intro to Business text, while Winnie bobbed to the beat on her Walkman. Faith thumbed the pages of a Theatercmfts magazine, staring at the words as if they were in a foreign language. Eventually the washing machines sped up, whirring away in spin cycle.
That was when Winnie whipped off her earphones and leaped up again. She waved her arms, making the ten-plus bracelets on each of her wrists jangle. "What's going on with you two?"
Faith pasted on a fake smile and stammered, "Nothing. I'm doing fine."
KC glared at her book.
"Why don't I believe you?" Winnie tossed back. "KC, I don't know if you realize it, but you are acting as if laundry were some demonic curse. And Faith, you keep saying everything is hunky-dory, but you're acting so spacey that you might as well be me. There is definitely something-or someone -on your mind. Maybe aliens invaded both of your
bodies last night. You know, if I'd wanted a surreal experience, I could have done laundry by myself."
KC closed her textbook.
Faith put a hand to her forehead.
"Do you two want to know the Winnie Gottlieb theory on why you're both acting so weird?"
"Do we have to?" KC asked.
"That's one of the nice things about old friends. You always know what to expect. Okay. Here goes. The Gottlieb theory is . . ."Winnie posed in front of them, clapped her hands, and did a little dance. "We think we're so mature. I mean, here we are, college freshmen, each of us living in her own dorm -women of the nineties and all that. But all it takes is a tiny University of Springfield tradition called Parents' Visit and boingo!"
"Boingo?" KC questioned.
Faith lifted her head and tried to smile. A terrible, tight feeling was in her chest, as if her emotions had been cranked up so high and held in so hard that she just might explode.
"Yes," Winnie concluded. "The thought of our parents visiting us at college this week has turned us back into dorky, insecure little twelve-year-olds."
KC huffed. "Winnie, do you always have to talk so much?"
"Usually." Winnie respiked her already spiky hair with her fingers and continued, "Since I've made so
many mistakes, I've earned the right to give advice. Now KC, you want your parents to think you've been wearing the shirt they gave you, so they won't hassle you about being so cold-hearted and ambi-
tious."
"Gee, thanks, Win. Maybe you should declare a major in psychology."
"I'll leave the psychologizing to my mom." Winnie laughed. "Besides, I'm just as bad as you are. I cleaned my room this morning, for only the second or third time since orientation, because I don't want my mother to think I'm avoiding adult responsibilities. Plus, I don't want her analyzing the meaning of all those empty peanut-butter jars under my bed."
Faith rubbed her eyes. "Peanut-butter jars?"
"All we want is for our parents to come visit and think we're doing okay!" Winnie waited for a reply. "Well? Am I right? For once is crazy Winnie right?"
"You're not crazy." KC thought for a moment. "Actually, my problem is that I don't want my parents to come for this stupid Parents' Visit at all. I don't want to be seen with them."
"Your folks are great, KC," Winnie said. "Besides, everybody else will be so embarrassed by their own parents, they won't notice anyone else's. Faith, what about you?"
"Me?"