Class by Cecily von Ziegesar Page A

Dumpster diver, who, without the comradeship of the Grannies, had gotten lost along the way.
    Nick took another wary step and sneezed again. “We’re just looking for some…tasty raw vegetable ingredients? For our curry?” he told the guy, feeling stupid.
    “Hey!” The flashlight swung toward him. “Get the hell away from me!” The stranger’s voice was throaty and vicious. “Leave me alone!”
    “Okay, okay. Sorry.” Sheepish and terrified, Nick backed away. “Guys, can you help me? I want to get out!” he called out to the Grannies. He didn’t care how many perfect pineapples he left behind. He jumped up and clawed helplessly at the Dumpster’s inner wall before toppling back inside it again.
    “Get anything good?” Wills asked, dangling his arms inside the Dumpster. He spotted the flashlight, still pointed at the back of Nick’s frightened head. “Holy shit! Come on, man.” Wills flapped his hands at Nick urgently. “What the hell? Who is that?”
    Nick grabbed his hands and Wills heaved him out of the Dumpster. The other two Grannies were still in their two-tiered Ringling Brothers formation, but the force of Will’s heaves and Nick’s extra weight sent them crashing.

    “Aw, ya broke it! You broke my neck!” Grover screamed, writhing around on the pavement. The other three boys crouched on the chilly asphalt, breathing hard, the orange Shop ’n Save sign glowing above their heads.
    Liam giggled. “Dude, you’re not dead, right? If your neck was broken you’d be way dead.”
    “Jesus,” Nick muttered, rubbing his sore hands together. “Hey, can we go now? There’s someone creepy in there.” He stood up and started for the car, wanting to run, but fearful of looking like a huge chicken.
    “Someone’s in there? Holy cow!” Grover exclaimed. He leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the car.
    “Damn, why didn’t you say something?” Liam chased after him.
    “Yeah,” Wills agreed, falling into step with Nick. “We can go diving another time. Maybe try a different Dumpster, like the one behind the natural food store down in Camden.”
    “Or maybe you should just go to the store and buy stuff like everyone else,” Nick snapped in annoyance. “A head of cauliflower costs what—a buck?”
    “Dude, that’s not the point,” Wills reminded him. He lowered his voice. “Hey, who do you think that was with the flashlight anyway?”
    Nick opened the door to the Saab and scooted into the backseat next to Grover. “I don’t know. Nobody, I guess.”
     
    N ick returned to the site of his yurt, leaving the Grannies to finish their curry without him. He would have invited them in, but the roof wasn’t covered and the Grannies were loud. He’d only managed to convince the Office of Student Housing andCampus Life and the Dean of Students Office to permit him to build the yurt by claiming it was for “spiritual purposes.” It was no party pad.
    The yurt was supposed to be built right on top of the ground, but he’d cheated and built a platform out of plywood and cinder blocks scavenged from a pile behind Buildings and Grounds, hoping to add some distance from the earth come spring when the mud thawed and the rains came. It was rumored that Dexter’s campus had been erected on top of an old turkey farm and in the March–April mud season, the whole place stank of turkey shit. Right now though, his yurt smelled of freshly cut wood.
    From his dorm room window the yurt looked like a tiny circus tent. It was a good eight feet high, and once he’d installed the waxed canvas cover, the crown of the roof could be rolled back to reveal the sky or to provide ventilation for a stove or fire. He had to be very careful with fire in the yurt. There was an entire booklet on it in the kit, covered in bold exclamation points and the word “WARNING” in red. Without proper ventilation, the whole thing would go up in a matter of minutes, since it was basically made out of twigs.
    Eliza was huddled on