I can almost believe that he’s teasing me; if that isn’t the most ridiculous notion I have had thus far. “I just knew I was going to regret that question,” I mumble as I blush.

“I was just lamenting how boring my life has become. Be careful what you wish for, huh, Genevieve?” he asks, pulling the registration card that I have all but destroyed from my hand. Smoothing it out, he adds Dr. Farrow’s nine o’clock Physics class to my list of classes.

“So, what are you saying? I’m so confused,” I say as I take my card back from him, barely glancing at it. “What did we decide here?”

“We decided that we wouldn’t make any decisions until we know more about each other,” Reed says simply as he sits back down in his chair with a casual grace that would be hard to imitate.

“Okay, so when can I find out what you know about me?” I ask, not wanting to let it go. When he shrugs, I ask the questions that I dread the most. “How long is it going to take…I mean, how long until the sharks start circling, and who are the sharks, and why do they want me?”

Reed is motionless when he says, “Prelaw, Genevieve, it’s your calling. You had better hurry, all of your classes are filling up as we speak.”

I give him a shallow nod in acknowledgment of his dismissal. Blindly, I go to the next table and I don’t realize until the flash goes off that someone has taken my picture for my student ID card. I finish registering quickly after that. Normally, I would be euphoric at my list of classes, but instead I feel afraid, like I won’t be around long enough to enjoy them.

Leaving registration, I walk to the union. Locating the vending machines, I buy a bottle of water. Apparently, mind-numbing fear really makes you thirsty. Taking a quick sip to clear my throat, I begin searching the tables in the union to see if Russell is here yet.

I spot him, sitting by a large window on the left side of the union. He is easy to see because even seated, he is tall. Russell’s long legs stretch out under the table almost to the other side, and his sandy hair bends over a binder on the table as he studies it intently. He seems to be ignoring all the chaos swirling around him.

Walking toward Russell, I feel the high energy of the crowd around me. Being in the student union is like being at the center of a military operation where several different units have come together as allies, yet none of those units trust the others.

The freshmen newbies are mainly sitting together. They’re easy to spot because their clothes are new. They seem like green recruits to me with newly requisitioned uniforms that haven’t seen any action yet to despoil them.

The fraternal brothers occupy their own tables in the union. They have an entirely different vibe in that they aren’t green, but seasoned and confident. As I pass a table of them, I am able to overhear one brother trash talking to his boys about the corruption he was able to accomplish last night, “Yo, ya should’ve seen us set it off last night, check it, it was off the…”

The sororities are much the same as the fraternities, but they differ in that they are already out rushing prospective freshmen women. They break off from their groups, doing recon and gathering intel to report back to their units. I overhear a sorority sister debriefing the others as I walk by, “I thought she was good looking, but she’s really just a hundred-meter hottie…you know, pretty from afar—but up close, she’s just random. Let’s just call her a definite maybe for now… don’t you guys think?”

But the most deadly units by far are the sniper units. They are the tables of guys sitting around scoping their next targets, always trying to one up each other regarding who has the biggest gun and how much ammo they have in their package.

I almost make it to Russell’s table when a sniper approaches me at my twelve o’clock. The smirk on his face tells me that he is more concerned about how his unit judges his game than actually making a connection with me.

He tries to hide his smirk at the last second with a half smile before he says, “Sup, Genevieve?”

I stammer, “Uh, hi…”

“Did you just get done registering?” he asks before glancing over at the table near us. I follow his line of sight to the table full of male students all watching us.

“Um…yes…I…do we know each other?” I manage to ask.

“I’m Todd, Sigma house,” he says arrogantly, puffing out his chest. “I saw your picture in the freshman directory.”

My face flushes red as the creepy factor of what he just said hits me. “Um…I’m sorry…uh…Todd, but I’m here to meet a friend.” I say, indicating Russell at the table ahead of us with a gesture. “So, maybe…” I trail off, squeezing past him. The sniper’s buddies begin slamming him immediately for his failure to hit the target. I’ve probably just messed up his one shot, one kill status.

Making it to Russell’s table, I pull out a chair across from him. As I sit down, I smile because I hadn’t realized how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing him until this moment. “Hey, Russell, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Raising his eyebrows, he replies, “Uh, thanks.”

Glancing at me for a second, he gives me a half smile and sort of a curious look. Then, he checks out the room before looking down at his binder again, ignoring me.

“I have to give you props for being able to concentrate in here with all this noise. What are you studying?” I ask him, indicating the binder he had lying in front of him.

“It’s a play book. We’re supposed to keep it on the down low,” he says abruptly.

“Okay…hey, you’ll never guess what’s been happening to me today. You know that directory—the one that the Mother’s Club publishes with all the freshmen in it?” I ask.

“Sure, I think I got one,” he says, looking at me with a puzzled expression.

“Yeah, well, I guess some people are studying it like you were just studying that play book because guys I’ve never met are calling me by name as I walk by. It’s a little sketchy,” I say with a forced smile because I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with the way Russell is acting. He’s cold, and I am definitely feeling the arctic air at my end of the table.

“Ya don’t say?” he asks. “Well that’s kinda ironic, since I was tryin’ to figure out how I know ya. Did ya get my name out of the directory?”