Class by Cecily von Ziegesar

thought he might have even seen a stray snowflake.
    He wondered if Shipley and Tom had finished having sex. The sight of her in Tom’s bed depressed him. He didn’t like Tom to begin with, and the fact that Shipley had chosen Tom over him or even that redheaded local boy made him question her judgment. Tom ate meat three times a day, he was totally unspiritual, he snored and farted loudly in his sleep, he’d signed up for the expensive laundry service instead of washing his own socks and underwear in the laundry room down the hall, and he wanted to major in Economics with only a concentration in Studio Art. Tom also refused to address Nick directly except to say, “See you later, man.” Tom was a dick.
    We are all one and connected, Nick reminded himself. I am you, you are me. Your good fortune is my good fortune. Your misfortune is my misfortune. If Tom is a dick, then I am a dick. Hopefully Tom’s redeeming qualities would reveal themselves in time.
    Shop ’n Save bore a giant neon orange sign and seemed to be the only place open in town. Even so, the parking lot was nearly empty.
    “Shhh,” Wills whispered as they clambered out of the car. “Be werry, werry quiet.”
    “Hey dude, you knit?” Liam whispered, tweaking Nick’s hat as they approached the Dumpster.
    “Nah,” Nick responded. It occurred to him that the Grannies might be a harmless-looking Grateful Dead cover band by day and torturous psycho killers by night. Had they brought him here to stuff his mouth full of brown bananas so he couldn’t scream while they took turns scalping him and pulling out his toenails? He pulled the flaps of his hat down over his ears again, steeling himself.

    The Dumpster was gigantic and black and stank of rotting cabbages. The Grannies were experts. They had their method down pat. First Grover got down on his hands and knees. Then Liam climbed onto Grover’s back and got down on his hands and knees. Then Wills climbed aboard and did the same, his red and black skirt draping elegantly over Liam’s shoulders.
    “Come on,” Wills called to Nick. “You go first. You gotta experience a virgin dive.”
    Nick climbed the human ladder, careful to distribute his weight evenly. When he was up on Wills’s back, he peered into the blackness of the Dumpster.
    “Go on, get in there,” Liam urged.
    The sickly sweet smell of rotten fruit was so powerful Nick could hardly breathe. He closed his eyes and, using Will’s back as a springboard, somersaulted into the depths of the Dumpster.
    “Cannonball!” Grover shouted as Nick dropped down into the garbage.
    His back hit something hard and he rolled away from it, pain shooting down his spine to his coccyx. Before he could orient himself, a harsh light shone in his eyes. Fuck! Was Shop ’n Save Security after him already? Nick blinked, making out a pair of pale blue eyes behind the flashlight’s beam. The furry-faced creature brandishing the flashlight held up a heavy book with an illustration of an erupting volcano on its cover.
    “Hello,” Nick said cautiously. He sneezed. “Sorry to disturb you.”
    The blue eyes blinked and a voice mumbled something complicated about the survival of a unit of life.
    It was Sunday. Patrick had been reading his book inside the Dumpster for over an hour, waiting for the bakery staff to throw out all the out-of-date bread, a regular Sunday night Shop ’n Save ritual. French bread, Tuscan farm bread, kaiser rolls, and bagels.Sometimes there were muffins and donuts too. He’d fill the trunk of the Mercedes and live on the stuff all week. The last thing he wanted was to share his cache with a bunch of stoned Dexter idiots.
    Trembling, Nick took an unsteady step forward on the stinking heap of garbage. A grapefruit swelled and then gave way beneath the sole of his Birkenstock, bursting with the sweet, acrid odor of overripe citrus. He squinted into the harsh ring of light, trying to get a better look at the guy. Maybe he was just another