Adam by Ariel Schrag Read Free Book Online

privilege” and “white guilt” or, most often, just plain referring to things as “white.” As in: “I just don’t want my summer job to be really white, you know?” Apparently Columbia had given her a “change of consciousness about race”—but as far as Adam could tell, that just meant talking about being white all the time.
    The bus pulled up to the 116th stop, and Adam gathered his bags and got off. He was here. New York City. Columbia University. Where Jack Kerouac used to hang out and play football and stuff.
On the Road
was Adam’s all-time favorite book. Of course Casey hated it. “
On the Road
is responsible for probably ninety percent of America’s white male jerks and their fucked-up idea of what it means to be ‘cool.’” Adam thought she was just jealous.
    He crossed the street to Columbia’s tall wrought-iron gates. Two Greek-looking sculptures stood guard on either side—to the left, a man holding a sphere that read, SCIENCE , and on the right a robed woman holding an open book. Adam lugged his two heavy bags and duffel on his back across the bricked quad in search of Casey’s dorm. He would never get into a place like Columbia. More like Diablo Valley community college. Living at home and taking the bus there every morning. Or, possibly worse, when the time came to apply, his mom would send out some desperate mass e-mail to everyone she knew who worked at a “real” college to try to get him in.
“I’m writing on behalf of my son, Adam, who, despite everything, really is a good boy and tries very hard.”
    Adam rounded a corner with his bags. Columbia certainly was a classic-looking place. The towering stone buildings with names like HOMER, HERODOTUS, PLATO, ARISTOTLE chiseled on them. People who went here turned into people like that. In the center of the campus sat a giant sculpture of a woman, her arms outstretched—a serene welcome to those who had been accepted, and inert bronze disinterest to those who hadn’t. Adam passed a guy and a girl reading together on the crisp green lawn. The guy held his book with his arms wrapped around the girl, who leaned in between his legs, her book on her knees. They were both reading Thucydides’
The History of the Peloponnesian War
, the two identical books bobbing up and down on top of each other, making Adam feel as if he had double vision.
    JOHN JAY .
Finally.
Adam walked in and released his bags with a
thud
onto the floor of the foyer. He gave the guy at the desk his name to call up to Casey. As Adam waited, two men in security uniforms unlocked the large doors to his right. The doors parted and Adam could not believe what was revealed inside—the most magnificent, elaborate, mind-boggling buffet banquet he had ever seen. He stepped over to get a better look and was hit with a puff of warm, buttery air. There were rows of grilled chicken breasts, crispy roast beef, pork chops with mushrooms, heaps of greasy French fries, mashed potatoes, butter-drenched corn on the cob. In the center of the room was a sprawling salad bar; to the left, a sandwich-making station; to the right, a glass tower sectioned off with Lucky Charms, Cocoa Puffs, Froot Loops—every kind of sugared cereal he was never allowed to have. Next to it there was a fucking ice-cream-sundae-making station. He was
starving.
    â€œID,” said the banquet security guard, bored.
    â€œUh, no, just looking,” said Adam. He awkwardly pivoted around, pretending to be immersed in the various flyers taped to the walls: “Ultimate Frisbee on the Quad—Saturdays,” “Stand-Up Comedy Night at the Village Pourhouse,” “Horror Movie Club, This Tuesday: Wes Craven vs. John Carpenter,” “CU Bellydance Presents!” Jesus. College was like some perfectly crafted, honest-to-god
utopia.
Fuck.
    Casey appeared before him. “Took you long enough,