He was still looking at her, smiling at her, so she nodded.
Did you find all your classes?
Yeah
Are you meeting people?
Yeah, she thought, you people.
Not intentionally, she said.
She heard Reagan snort.
Where are your pillowcases? Levi asked the closet.
Boxes, Reagan said.
He started emptying a box, setting things on Reagans desk as if he knew where they went. His head hung forward like it was only loosely connected to his neck and shoulders. Like he was one of those action figures thats held together inside by worn-out rubber bands. Levi looked a little wild. He and Reagan both did. People tend to pair off that way, Cath thought, in matched sets.
So, what are you studying? he asked Cath.
English, she said, then waited too long to say, What are you studying?
He seemed delighted to be asked the question. Or any question. Range management.
Cath didnt know what that meant, but she didnt want to ask.
Please dont start talking about range management, Reagan groaned. Lets just make that a rule, for the rest of the year. No talking about range management in my room.
Its Cathers room, too, Levi said.
Cath, Reagan corrected him.
What about when youre not here? he asked Reagan. Can we talk about range management when youre not actually in the room?
When Im not actually in the room, she said, I think youre going to be waiting out in the hall.
Cath smiled at the back of Reagans head. Then she saw Levi watching her and stopped.
* * *
Everyone in the classroom looked like this was what theyd been waiting for all week. It was like they were all waiting for a concert to start. Or a midnight movie premiere.
When Professor Piper walked in, a few minutes late, the first thing Cath noticed was that she was smaller than she looked in the photos on her book jackets.
Maybe that was stupid. They were just head shots, after all. But Professor Piper really filled them upwith her high cheekbones; her wide, watered-down blue eyes; and a spectacular head of long brown hair.
In person, the professors hair was just as spectacular, but streaked with gray and a little bushier than in the pictures. She was so small, she had to do a little hop to sit on top of her desk.
So, she said instead of hello. Welcome to Fiction-Writing. I recognize a few of you She smiled around the room at people who werent Cath.
Cath was clearly the only freshman in the room. She was just starting to figure out what marked the freshmen. The too-new backpacks. Makeup on the girls. Jokey Hot Topic T-shirts on the boys.
Everything on Cath, from her new red Vans to the dark purple eyeglasses shed picked out at Target. All the upperclassmen wore heavy black Ray-Ban frames. All the professors, too. If Cath got a pair of black Ray-Bans, she could probably order a gin and tonic around here without getting carded.
Well, Professor Piper said. Im glad youre all here. Her voice was warm and breathyyou could say she purred without reaching too farand she talked just softly enough that everyone had to sit really still to hear her.
We have a lot to do this semester, she said, so lets not waste another minute of it. Lets dive right in. She leaned forward on the desk, holding on to the lip. Are you ready? Will you dive with me?
Most people nodded. Cath looked down at her notebook.
Okay. Lets start with a question that doesnt really have an answer. Why do we write fiction?
One of the older students, a guy, decided he was game. To express ourselves, he offered.
Sure, Professor Piper said. Is that why you write?
The guy nodded.
Okay why else?
Because we like the sound of our own voices, a girl said. She had hair like Wrens,
but maybe even cooler. She looked like Mia Farrow in Rosemarys Baby (wearing a pair of Ray-Bans).
Yes, Professor Piper laughed. It was a fairy laugh, Cath thought. Thats why I write, definitely. Thats why I teach. They all laughed with her. Why else?
Why do I write? Cath tried to come up with a profound answerknowing she wouldnt speak up, even if she did.
To explore new worlds, someone said.
To explore old ones, someone else said. Professor Piper was nodding.
To be somewhere else, Cath thought.
So, Professor Piper purred. Maybe to make sense of ourselves?
To set ourselves free, a girl said.
To get free of ourselves.
To show people what its like inside our heads, said a boy in tight red jeans.
Assuming they want to know, Professor Piper added. Everyone laughed.
To make people laugh.
To get attention.
Because its all we know how to do.
Speak for yourself, the professor said. I play the piano. But keep goingI love this. I love it.
To stop hearing the voices in our head, said the boy in front of Cath. He had short dark hair that came to a dusky point at the back of his neck.
To stop, Cath thought.
To stop being anything or anywhere at all.
To leave our mark, Mia Farrow said. To create something that will outlive us.
The boy in front of Cath spoke up again: Asexual reproduction.
Cath imagined herself at her laptop. She tried to put into words how it felt, what happened when it was good, when it was working, when the words were coming out of her before she knew what they were, bubbling up from her chest, like rhyming, like rapping, like jump-roping, she thought, jumping just before the rope hits your ankles.