Scenes From the City: A Knitting in the City Wintertime Surprise by Penny Reid Page A

side to clear my path, and darted out of the room as I called over my shoulder, “Well, thanks for your advice; that’s what I needed.”
    I fled back to my room, and I didn’t know why. Some sense of urgency spurred my steps; my throat was tight, and I felt like I was going to cry. I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
    I’d experienced embarrassment before, the frustration associated with failing in front of thousands of spectators and millions of TV viewers. As an Olympic contender I’d learned how to move past failure, put it out of my mind, focus on the next goal, the next competition. Obsessing about mistakes was counterproductive to success. I always learned from my mistakes. Then I moved on.
      But this was different. This horrible feeling was due to an audience of one and wasn’t about failure or a mistake; it wasn’t about something I could control. There was nothing to analyze for future improvement. I felt irrationally embarrassed and melancholy and wretched, like I’d been kicked repeatedly.
    Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to feel grateful for this new experience.
    ***
    Two days before Valentine’s Day, I came home to find Dara’s side of the room packed into suitcases. She explained that she was going to go home for a week. Things were getting too crazy with her and Hivan; she said she needed a break.
    I helped Dara take her bags down to the car and gave her a hug before she departed, fresh tears in her blue eyes. She was a really nice girl, and I felt sad for her.
    I wandered back to my suite but was stopped in the hall by a few girls on the floor.
    “You’re Dara’s roommate, right?” a tall blonde asked, indicating with her head toward my room.
    I nodded. “That’s right.”
    “Is it true? Did she go home to have an abortion?”
    I stared askance at this stranger, too shocked by the audacity of the question to process whether or not it might be true. “I- I don’t- I mean, no. I should say, not that-”
    “Gail, don’t be such a bitch. It’s none of our business.” This comment came from a petite redhead.
    “I just asked a question.” The one called Gail held her hands up as though defending herself. Now I recognized her; Fern had told me during our grand tour weeks ago that Gail was the floor gossip. She meant well but couldn’t help herself from getting into everyone’s business.
    “It’s nothing like that,” the redhead continued, her expression stern. “Dara just needs a break from her prick boyfriend.”
    “Did they breakup?” Gail’s eyes became wide, searching.
    “Do you ever stop?” The redhead shook her head at Gail’s antics, then turned to me. “I’m Maddie. I think we met before. Dara says you’re the sweetest.”
    I smiled at Maddie and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
    “I’m telling you, there is something going around, some kind of Valentine’s Day bad mojo. Everyone is breaking up.” Gail delivered this with squinted eyes, pursed lips, and a head nod for emphasis.
    “Oh, yeah…” A blonde girl, approximately my height who’d been silent thus far, waved her hands in the air excitedly. (I remembered her name was Sarah or Silvia or something like that.) “That’s right! Did you all hear about Vanessa and Greg?”
    I stilled, but my heart took off, my wide eyes betraying my avid interest. “No, what happened?”
    I knew I would dislike myself later for gossiping, but for now I indulged with the hunger of a voracious animal. My pulse doubled in the three seconds it took for her to share the news.
    She glanced over her shoulders then leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “He broke up with her last week. She’s devastated.”
    My heart soared then dipped, and I felt at once elated and miserable about my elation.
    Since our last interaction, Greg and I had passed each other a few times in the hall. Usually he was with Vanessa, and the three of us would exchange polite greetings—though sometimes he would ask about my