Fangirl

wrapper into the feminine-hygiene box and rinsed off her face before she went back to her room.
    Reagan and Levi were walking out, thank God. And finally.
    “See ya,” Reagan said.
    “Rock on.” Levi smiled.
    Cath felt like collapsing when the door closed behind them.
    She grabbed another protein bar, flopped onto the old wooden captain’s chair—she was starting to like this chair—and opened a drawer to prop up her foot.
    Simon swept his honey brown hair out of his eyes and sighed. “Just because I can’t think of any heroic vampires doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
    Baz stopped trying to levitate his steamer trunk and gave Simon a flash of gleaming fang. “Good guys wear white,” Baz said. “Have you ever tried to get blood out of a white cape?”
    *   *   *
    Selleck Hall was a dormitory right in the middle of campus. You could eat there even if you didn’t live there. Cath usually waited in the lobby for Wren and Courtney, so she wouldn’t have to walk into the cafeteria alone.
    “So what’s your roommate like?” Courtney asked as they moved through the salad bar line. She asked it like she and Cath were old friends—like Cath had any idea what Courtney was like, outside of her taste for cottage cheese with peaches.
    The salad bar at Selleck was completely wack. Cottage cheese with peaches, canned pears with shredded cheddar. “What is up with this?” Cath asked, lifting a scoop of cold kidney and green bean salad.
    “Maybe it’s another Western Nebraska thing,” Wren said. “There are guys in our dorm who wear cowboy hats, like, all the time, even when they’re just walking down the hall.”
    “I’m gonna get a table,” Courtney said.
    “Hey”—Cath watched Wren pile vegetables on her plate—“did we ever write any fic with Simon and Baz dancing?”
    “I don’t remember,” Wren said. “Why? Are you writing a dance scene?”
    “Waltzing. Up on the ramparts.”
    “Romantic.” Wren looked around the room for Courtney.
    “I’m worried that I’m making Simon too fluffy.”
    “Simon is fluffy.”
    “I wish you were reading it,” Cath said, following her to the table.
    “Isn’t every ninth-grader in North America already reading it?” Wren sat down next to Courtney.
    “And Japan,” Cath said, sitting. “I’m weirdly huge in Japan.”
    Courtney leaned toward Cath, swooping in, like she was in on some big secret. “ Cath, Wren told me that you write Simon Snow stories. That’s so cool. I’m a huge Simon Snow fan. I read all the books when I was a kid.”
    Cath unwrapped her sandwich skeptically. “They’re not over,” she said.
    Courtney took a bite of her cottage cheese, not catching the correction.
    “I mean,” Cath said, “the books aren’t over. Book eight doesn’t come out until next year.…”
    “Tell us about your roommate,” Wren said, smiling flatly at Cath.
    “There’s nothing to tell.”
    “Then make something up.”
    Wren was irritated. Which irritated Cath. But then Cath thought about how glad she was to be eating food that required silverware and talking to someone who wasn’t a stranger—and decided to make an effort with Wren’s shiny new roommate.
    “Her name is Reagan. And she has reddish brown hair.… And she smokes.”
    Courtney wrinkled her nose. “In your room?”
    “She hasn’t really been in the room much.”
    Wren looked suspicious. “You haven’t talked?”
    “We’ve said hello,” Cath said. “I’ve talked to her boyfriend a little.”
    “What’s her boyfriend like?” Wren asked.
    “I don’t know. Tall?”
    “Well, it’s only been a few days. I’m sure you’ll get to know her.” Then Wren changed the subject to something that happened at some party she and Courtney had gone to. They’d only been living together two weeks, and already they had a slew of inside jokes that went right over Cath’s head.
    Cath ate her turkey sandwich and two servings of french fries, and shoved a second sandwich into her bag when Wren wasn’t paying attention.
    *   *   *
    Reagan finally stayed in their room that night. (Levi did not, thank God.) She went to bed while Cath was still typing.
    “Is the light bothering you?” Cath asked, pointing at the lamp built into her desk. “I could turn it off.”
    “It’s fine,” Reagan said.
    Cath put in earbuds so that she wouldn’t hear Reagan’s falling-asleep noises. Breathing. Sheets brushing. Bed creaking.
    How can she just fall asleep like that with a