#Freshman year
Young Folks: Part 4
Illustration by Elena Aleksandrova
Tonight is Mexican-American Appreciation Night in the dining halls. Life seems to be on the upswing.
“¡Hóla, señorita!” Quentin has traded his chef’s hat with a sombrero. Instead of omelets, he flips cheese quesadillas.
“Hóla, Quentin,” I giggle, passing his station. The manifestations of Mexican-American culture extend to a bowl of Ruffles and salsa on each table. In a bout of political correctness, Sargent plays Shakira’s debut album, “Laundry Service.”
“Is Shakira even Mexican?” Holly asks, plopping down her tray.
“Who cares?” I sigh as I cut my arroz con carne. “Have you seen the music video for She Wolf? Holy fuck.”
Suddenly, some guy sits at our table. I don’t know about the other dining halls, but in Sargent, this is unheard of. Save that shit for Willard. You don’t join a round table unless you know the company. And if you come alone, well then grab a copy of the Daily and sit in the corner.
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On Friday morning, Julia Fernandez threw up on me.
I’m sitting in Psych 110—suffering because Friday morning followed a rather brutal Thursday night—when the person behind me belches loudly.
“Well that’s gross,” I whisper to Greg. When he doesn’t respond, I follow his gaze behind me. But there’s no one sitting there. “What…?” I start to ask Greg but then stop.
The regurgitated Mac n’ Cheese on my ponytail answers everything. “What the fuck,” I hiss through my teeth. The odor falls somewhere between cat shit and Doritos. I immediately jolt up and see Julia, a girl in my dorm, retching on the floor. Some remnants from the night before cascade down her shirt. more
