I’d know more about bus engineering, she called me.
“Jo-Issa, help your sister! Jo-Issa!”
Ashley fell out laughing as I sunk in my seat, pretending that my name was anything but that which my mother shrieked. Thankfully, one of the young fine gentlemen sitting near the back came to my sister’s rescue and simply and calmly told her to try turning the knob to the left . And, presto, the door opened. My sister emerged, with tear-stained eyes, grateful to be let free from the grip of the bathroom monster (a level-one boss, at best). I remained in my seat, mortified.
By the time we arrived at Mills College, an all-girls campus, the color had returned to my face and my hope for the trip had been restored. The campus was beautiful, and I felt like I had fast-forwarded to the college chapter in my life. We got off the bus and I looked up at what must have been the most beautiful dorms on campus, akin to freshly renovated, quaint townhomes. As Ashley and I made our way toward them, we heard hand claps.
“All right, guys, those are the residence halls for college students,” Michael said. “You guys will be staying over there.”
Our heads turned collectively as he pointed to what looked like a haunted, abandoned part of campus that we hadn’t even noticed before. It looked as if it had just emerged from the depths of hell. Ghosts of students past were wailing and circling the dilapidated roofs and breathing fire on the tattered exterior. The disappointment was palpable.
Michael remained cheery. “This is where the international students stay. Make friends! Learn a language!”
One of the girls we stood next to shook her head. “Dag. They get the Holiday Inn and we get the Motel 6.” I cracked up laughing. Later, upon recalling this memory, I laughed again at how our frame of reference for “luxury” was the Holiday Inn. The hotel/motel girl introduced herself as Kim. With caramel skin and her hair in a sock bun, which accentuated her beautiful cheekbones, she was tall, thin, and pretty. Next to her stood a girl who had African-American facial features but looked closer to white. She introduced herself in a thick East Coast accent as Taipei. With long, jet-black hair that she wore partially up, she was Italian and black (clearly a mix more common than I thought; see “A/S/L”). She had a cute gap between her teeth that actually looked good on her (I had a gap between my teeth that I hated, mostly because my little brother and sister would parody the Gap theme song with, “Falllllll into Jo-Issa’s gap!”). The most notable thing about her was that she was a lesbian, and I had never met one up until that point. She was edgy and cool. Both Taipei and Kim were fourteen, going into high school.
My best friend, Ashley, who I clutched onto as if for (social) life, was the only reason I was able to get in with these cool girls. With her long hair, cocoa skin, puberty boobs, and “chinky” eyes, Ashleywas constantly approached by boys and adored by girls alike. And that girl could dance. She was everything I wasn’t and, as such, she fit in perfectly with the cool girls, despite being two years younger than they were. When our families were first introduced, we discovered that she and I were distant cousins, by marriage. To deepen our bond and solidify the potential for coolness in my own genes, I publicly identified her as my cousin.
As we unpacked our belongings in our respective hostel rooms, we were also introduced to Jennifer, a pretty, petite girl with an infectious high-pitched squeal-laugh, who went to elementary school with Cheerful Cherie. They would both be attending Brentwood, the same private school as me. Up until that point, I hadn’t met anyone else who would be joining me at Brentwood, so I tried to stay close to them. Jennifer was hesitant, but Cherie welcomed me with open arms.
We all gathered together in Kim and Taipei’s room to discuss the program, our schools, and of course, boys . We
“Jo-Issa, help your sister! Jo-Issa!”
Ashley fell out laughing as I sunk in my seat, pretending that my name was anything but that which my mother shrieked. Thankfully, one of the young fine gentlemen sitting near the back came to my sister’s rescue and simply and calmly told her to try turning the knob to the left . And, presto, the door opened. My sister emerged, with tear-stained eyes, grateful to be let free from the grip of the bathroom monster (a level-one boss, at best). I remained in my seat, mortified.
By the time we arrived at Mills College, an all-girls campus, the color had returned to my face and my hope for the trip had been restored. The campus was beautiful, and I felt like I had fast-forwarded to the college chapter in my life. We got off the bus and I looked up at what must have been the most beautiful dorms on campus, akin to freshly renovated, quaint townhomes. As Ashley and I made our way toward them, we heard hand claps.
“All right, guys, those are the residence halls for college students,” Michael said. “You guys will be staying over there.”
Our heads turned collectively as he pointed to what looked like a haunted, abandoned part of campus that we hadn’t even noticed before. It looked as if it had just emerged from the depths of hell. Ghosts of students past were wailing and circling the dilapidated roofs and breathing fire on the tattered exterior. The disappointment was palpable.
Michael remained cheery. “This is where the international students stay. Make friends! Learn a language!”
One of the girls we stood next to shook her head. “Dag. They get the Holiday Inn and we get the Motel 6.” I cracked up laughing. Later, upon recalling this memory, I laughed again at how our frame of reference for “luxury” was the Holiday Inn. The hotel/motel girl introduced herself as Kim. With caramel skin and her hair in a sock bun, which accentuated her beautiful cheekbones, she was tall, thin, and pretty. Next to her stood a girl who had African-American facial features but looked closer to white. She introduced herself in a thick East Coast accent as Taipei. With long, jet-black hair that she wore partially up, she was Italian and black (clearly a mix more common than I thought; see “A/S/L”). She had a cute gap between her teeth that actually looked good on her (I had a gap between my teeth that I hated, mostly because my little brother and sister would parody the Gap theme song with, “Falllllll into Jo-Issa’s gap!”). The most notable thing about her was that she was a lesbian, and I had never met one up until that point. She was edgy and cool. Both Taipei and Kim were fourteen, going into high school.
My best friend, Ashley, who I clutched onto as if for (social) life, was the only reason I was able to get in with these cool girls. With her long hair, cocoa skin, puberty boobs, and “chinky” eyes, Ashleywas constantly approached by boys and adored by girls alike. And that girl could dance. She was everything I wasn’t and, as such, she fit in perfectly with the cool girls, despite being two years younger than they were. When our families were first introduced, we discovered that she and I were distant cousins, by marriage. To deepen our bond and solidify the potential for coolness in my own genes, I publicly identified her as my cousin.
As we unpacked our belongings in our respective hostel rooms, we were also introduced to Jennifer, a pretty, petite girl with an infectious high-pitched squeal-laugh, who went to elementary school with Cheerful Cherie. They would both be attending Brentwood, the same private school as me. Up until that point, I hadn’t met anyone else who would be joining me at Brentwood, so I tried to stay close to them. Jennifer was hesitant, but Cherie welcomed me with open arms.
We all gathered together in Kim and Taipei’s room to discuss the program, our schools, and of course, boys . We
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