Look Both Ways(6)

I had no idea I was getting a roommate, but I’m obviously in the right place, or my key wouldn’t have worked. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I am. I’m Brooklyn. I’m really sorry about barging in on you. I should’ve knocked.”

“It’s okay. You can turn around.”

Zoe’s holding a red tank top now, but she comes over and holds out her hand to me before she bothers to put it on. Her hand feels cool even in the heat, and I’m impressed by how purposefully she moves in her shorts and pink bra. I’m pretty sure I never look that comfortable, even when I’m fully dressed. I shake her hand, careful to keep my eyes on her heart-shaped face. There’s a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, and her eyes are big and blue with a ring of golden brown around the pupils. My mom calls those “sunflower eyes.” Zoe is way prettier than I am, but I try not to care.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” she says. She lets go of my hand and pulls on her shirt, and I feel a little less awkward once she’s dressed. “I put my stuff over there, but if you’d rather have the left side, we can switch.”

“No, this is fine. It’s good to meet you, too.” I plunk my duffel bag down on the bare mattress, which has a green stain near the end, like someone was eating a lime Popsicle as a midnight snack. “Are you in the apprentice company, too?” I ask.

“Yup, it’s my first year here. I’m so excited.”

“Me too.” As I start unpacking my sheets, I realize I forgot to bring my pillow, and an intense pang of sadness washes over me as I picture it sitting next to the front door of my apartment. “Crap,” I say. “Do you think there’s anywhere in town that sells pillows?”



Zoe laughs. “Have you been into town yet? There’s, like, a bar and three restaurants and a bakery, and that’s pretty much it. You can have one of mine, though.”

“Thanks,” I say, and she tosses me a pillow that smells faintly of grapefruit. “I’ll find one of my own soon so you can have it back.”

“Don’t worry about it. I think there’s a Target, like, thirty minutes away, but that seems like a long way to go for one pillow.”

“I don’t know how I’d get there, anyway,” I say. “I don’t have a car. I don’t even know how to drive a car.”

I have no idea why I said that to a total stranger, but Zoe’s face lights up. “Are you from New York City?”

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me you live in Brooklyn.”

This question usually annoys me, but somehow it’s different with Zoe; she looks like she’d be genuinely, unironically delighted if I were Brooklyn from Brooklyn. “My parents used to live there, but we live in Manhattan now,” I say. “I think they named me that because they felt bad about abandoning their bohemian roots or whatever.”

“Man, I wish I’d grown up there. I’m from Colorado, and I feel like a total hick. I’ve only seen, like, four shows on Broadway. But I’m moving to the city in the fall, so I’ll make up for it then. You have to tell me all the good places to eat and stuff on the Upper West Side, okay?”



“Totally. I actually live up there, too. Are you going to Columbia?”

“Juilliard,” she says. I’ve heard a lot of people say that word, and it usually comes out sounding stuck-up, but Zoe manages to strike exactly the right balance of excitement and matter-of-factness. She’s not bragging about her talent, but she’s not apologizing for it, either. My heart sinks; she seems really nice, but I doubt she’ll stick around and be my friend once she realizes how vastly different our talent levels are.

“Wow,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment show. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Zoe twists her hair up into a complicated knot, and when she turns around to search her dresser for a ponytail holder, I notice that the entire top of her back is inked with delicate twisting branches and tiny pink blossoms.

“I love your tattoo,” I say. “What kind of flowers are those?”

“Thanks! They’re cherry blossoms. In Japan, they symbolize that life is beautiful but short, so you should take advantage of every day.” She gives me a sheepish smile. “I know it’s kind of cheesy. Mostly I just like how they look.”

“No, that’s cool. Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, it totally sucked—it felt like being stung by a million bees. And I had to go back three different times so they could do the shading.”

“Wow,” I say. She must be pretty badass to withstand that much pain for something beautiful. It makes total sense that she’d be a good actor.

“So, you go to Columbia?” Zoe asks.



“Oh, no. I’ve actually got one more year of high school. I’ll probably apply there and to Juilliard, but they’re both long shots.” Just thinking about spending four years under that kind of pressure makes my stomach turn over, but I push the thought away. By the time I’m done with Allerdale, I’ll be able to handle it.

Zoe shrugs. “You never know. That’s what I thought, too. Hey, are you hungry? I think the dining hall opened a couple of minutes ago. If we want to grab something before the company meeting, we should go soon.” I love the way she says “we,” like she automatically wants to eat dinner with me. Maybe it’ll be easier to connect with people here than I thought.