The Will To

T W E N T Y - F I V E (diversity)

Somehow I'd managed to survive Thanksgiving with my very un-nuclear family. The feast with my dad had gone about as I'd expected. His wife, Essie, and her two kids, Jordan and Joshua, who were both tall, dark, and boring as hell, welcomed me into their home like I was a long lost relative from some foreign land. It was odd. And painful. For the two hour dinner, I sat and listened to Essie gush about her sons' lacrosse scholarships to some east coast university while they glanced up from their phones in unison when I answered questions about myself, all the while trying to decide if they were two separate people or, in fact, one in the same. I pondered this while devising a plan to steal the extra pie in the kitchen.

Essie was seemingly very interested in me (and my many piercings, which she'd pointed out several times throughout the dinner) in the way that people were when they were nervous. She wore a tight smile and produced a high-pitched laugh frequently at my responses to her questions. I could now add that I was hilarious to my resume.

My dad had pulled me aside later that afternoon and wrapped me in a hug, lamenting how good it was to see me. It was my favorite part of the dinner. I hadn't seen much of my dad in the last few years, and I agreed: it was good to see him. However, when the dinner came to an end, I was ready to go. I still hadn't arrived at a conclusion on the Jordan-Joshua situation, and so, unable to tell them apart, I called, "Nice meeting you JorJosh on my way out the door with a pumpkin pie tucked snugly inside my jacket.

My mom and I sat on the couch with the pie between us later that night while we watched A Christmas Story on repeat.

"Do you think Essie saw you sneak it out?" she had asked with a full mouth.

"Who do you think I am? A pie stealing novice?"

"What about her kids—Jor—Josh—whatever their names are."

"Are you asking me if I think they saw me sneak the pie out of the kitchen?"

My mom nodded.

"Not unless they got a notification that I was stealing it on their phones," I said. "Look at the education all that fancy university is getting them. Their mother must be so proud."

My mom huffed a laugh and we continued eating contraband pie.

A week had passed since then, and I now found myself at another Greek party. People were crammed inside the frat house, sweaty and drunk and annoyingly loud. It was a warm welcome back.

As Reid had described at Zaatar's before Thanksgiving break, the Greek party displayed in front of me was, in the most liberal sense of the definition, Christmas themed. Beta Theta Phi had erected a Christmas Tree, hung novelty ornaments on it, and blasted atrocious remixed Christmas songs over their speaker system.

Ah. I'd never felt more in the Christmas spirit.

And I'd never been so disappointed in Rey's fraternity.

Grinning to myself as I thought of Rey hanging the obscene ornaments on the flimsy, fake tree, I crossed my arms and leaned against my post on the wall.

"Told you the wall missed you."

With my grin expanding, I turned my head to the side. Rey was wearing a flannel and jeans with the side of his mouth upturned. A guy with tousled blond hair and bright cheeks was beside him.

"Will, this is Hector. Hector, Will," Rey introduced.

Hector stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, you're the famous roommate."

"Famous?" Hector repeated through a laugh.

"Maybe elusive is the better word." I tucked some hair behind my ears. "Rey's talked about this supposed roommate of his but I was starting to think he'd made it all up."