Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Five days ago, I was moving back into my parents’ house to save money and enrolling in a community college nursing program. It wasn’t ideal, but I was determined to do whatever it took.
Then I got the call.
The Toronto phone number didn’t clue me in, because that’s where Jamie and Wes live. I thought maybe Jamie had to get a new number and came this close to answering the phone with “Whassup, Jamester?”
Some benevolent force in the universe caused me to answer “Hello” like a normal person. And a few seconds later, I heard something that changed my life.
“There’s a place for you here in Toronto.”
Suddenly, I was no longer slumming it in the only local program that had a last-minute spot for me but flying out to a top-notch nursing program in a new city. In a different country.
I thought that I’d be easing into this whole back-to-school thing. It’s been five years since I took notes or studied for a quiz. Frankly, I was already terrified. And that was before I won a probationary scholarship that requires me to get good grades. If I do poorly, I’ll lose the funding.
So here I am in this tiny room in a cinder-block dormitory, with its two twin beds and two tiny desks. At twenty-six, I’m starting over.
I tuck my pillow into its pillowcase and lay it on the bed as my brother carries the last bag through the door.
“This is it?” Jamie asks, smiling. “I thought we’d be here for hours.”
“Not so much.” All I’d brought to Toronto were two suitcases full of clothes, a box of reference books, my laptop, my teddy bear, and an empty bank account. “I still appreciate the help,” I tell him. Moral support is just as important as arm strength today, and I’m not afraid to admit it.
“Your roommate sure is organized,” Jamie remarks, peeking at the books lined up on the other desk. There are at least twenty important-looking medical texts. “What’s radiopharmacology?”
“Uh…” I give a whole body shiver. “I’ll have to get back to you.”
He chuckles. “Let’s eat dinner. Wes is putting some more change in the meter. Want to scope out the falafel joint we saw two blocks down?”
“That place is disgusting,” someone sneers from the doorway.
Jamie and I both turn to see an angular, dark-haired girl stride into the room. She marches over to the desk and slaps four more textbooks onto its surface.
“Hi,” I squeak. “I’m Jess Canning, and this is my brother Jamie.”
The thin creature turns her face my way, the lenses of her narrow glasses glinting in the fluorescent light. “Violet Smith. Pleasure to meet you.”
Something about the way the girl said “pleasure” makes me wonder if she knows what that word means.
“I’m a first-year nursing student,” I tell her, all the while comparing our two desks. Mine has only two postcards propped up on the book ledge. One is a picture of J. J. Watt, which my brothers insist is blasphemous because I’m not allowed to root for a non-Niner, but I don’t care because he’s hot. The other reads Keep Calm and Pour the Wine. Hers looks like a medical school bookstore.
“I’m a first-year too,” she says with a shrug. “Let’s start with some ground rules, shall we? I need quiet time between six p.m. and six a.m. No music, no speaking. Those are the really valuable study hours, and we’re going to need to hit the books hard just to stay afloat the first trimester. Oh—and no food in the room, because this building has had trouble with ants.”
Did she just say six p.m.? And on my budget, granola bars at my desk are likely to be a main staple of my diet.
“Do you have anything to add?” she prompts.
“Um…” I look to my brother for help, but he’s staring at Violet in fascination. “I’ll let you know,” I finally say, the urge to flee overtaking me. “Jamie? We were on our way out?”
“Right.” He gives me a salute, but I’m already aiming for the door. “Jessie? Don’t forget your key card. Don’t want to climb through the window on your first night, like you did at State.”
“Jesus.” Violet’s upper lip curls.
I grab the card off the bed where I’d left it and eject from the room like a fighter pilot whose jet has taken fire.
***
An hour later, I’ve almost calmed down. The vodka in my bloodstream has helped.
Jamie, Wes, and I just finished eating at Tonic, a slick new restaurant that’s recently opened in their neighborhood. I couldn’t afford the place, but Wes insisted on buying dinner to welcome me to Toronto. We’d meant to investigate the neighborhood around my new school, but I didn’t object to the change of plans when Wes said he was in the mood for something nicer.
The food was awesome too. Now, as I step outside and feel the breeze off Lake Ontario brushing my face, I can almost convince myself that I’m on a mini vacation in a pretty city. Then I look up the street toward the streetcar stop and feel a new twinge of trepidation.