“I’m finally a senior!” I say to Chris and Chili on the way to lunch. The entryway to the dining hall is packed — it always is on fresh fish Fridays. Students are queued up for the catch of the day prepared any way they like — pan-seared, fried, baked, or breaded. “Oh, I’m already baked,” Trevor Mason says to the lunch lady. Chili, Chris and I chuckle, taking in his standard Visine-clear eyes and wastoid physique. He and his stoner crew move as one loose-limbed unit, paving the way for us. “Pan-seared,” Chris orders when it’s his turn. Chili and I nod. “So, what’s it like to be a freshman all over again?” Chris asks. “I’m done with that — so smart I breezed through to seniordom in less than a week.” I smile, thinking back to that first day and how I’d been stuck sticking to my Class IV schedule. When I complained, the registrar informed me that if I didn’t attend the classes on my printout, I would be issued cuts. “It was insane, though. It makes me curious how all those colleges can keep track of all those applications — how the world doesn’t just screw things up all the time.”
