Firecracker by David Iserson

than five feet two inches, except in heels.
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    Suddenly I knew where Talia Pasteur’s room was. Talia Pasteur’s room was my room. It would really be the only place that would make sense. I’d had the biggest room on campus. This was because it was a room meant for two people. My roommate, Yves Graneveis, was the daughter of a French diplomat. As far as the administration was aware, Yves’s arrival in the United States had been held up for several years at that point due to an Interpol investigation into her family surrounding the kidnapping of her brother, Gaston. The administration at Bristol was very understanding throughout the ordeal and promised to keep her bed available to her if and when her circumstances changed and she was ready to begin her education at Bristol. Of course, I completely made Yves Graneveis up, but she has a very believable passport, a Canadian medical license, and owns a minority stake in a chain of fine men’s clothing stores in the Midwest.
    When I got to Ladies’ Dorm 3 (they used all the good dorm names like “Hampshire Hall” and “Woodmeadow Residence” on the boys’ dorms), I saw Pierre on a horse and Talia skipping over to him from the east side of campus. I hadn’t been spotted yet, and I couldn’t think of a particularly stealthy way to spy. I wished that I had a Gatling gun. I also wished I had the ability to climb walls. There were a lot of graceful and death-defying things I wished that I could do at that moment. But I didn’t have any of the tools or magical abilities required, so instead I dove down and crawled under a bush. This was not ideal. I was getting mud on my hands and clothes. I was pretty sure I’d never hidden from anything. As a kid, I played hide-and-seek by sitting on a bench.
    I had a pretty good view of the horse’s tail. Horses smell bad from the front, but it’s much worse when your nose is seven inches from one’s anus. I could only hear pieces of their conversation through the sound of the horse stomping on leaves.
    What I heard was this:
    Talia: You showed up——surprised——let you———does that.
    Pierre: I am my own——-That is——understand.
    Talia: I hope you know—————when she————Astrid—————strid.
    Pierre: Please, you have to know that I————What do you think——————? She isn’t making it.
    Talia: I’m sure she’s doing fine————————what she deserves anyway———————found out about us.
    Pierre: There is an us?————forever———is what I think. She doesn’t know—————-about—————
    Talia: She doesn’t? I doubt that. Hello, Astrid———strid———————in the bush————————I see you. Yes. I see you.
    The jig was up. I thought about staying in the bush forever, maybe building a life down there just to prove that I had some other reason for being there, but I knew that she knew my real reasons. I’d been stupid. If anyone could spot somebody else hiding in shrubbery, it was Talia. It’s like how my mother can tell which actresses on TV have cheekbone implants.
    I stood up—I was covered in filth. I stayed stoic, but I must have looked like a goddamn hobo.
    â€œYou brought her, then? You said you came alone,” Talia said to Pierre.
    He shrugged. “I will always be prepared to lie for her.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have to,” she said. Talia’s look had changed even more in the previous week. She had on leather wristbands and hair extensions on only one side. She looked like she was tilting her head to the right, even though she