Armed and Dangerous (The IMA) by Nenia Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

ethernet jack and concluding that I'd be sharing the same channel with everyone in the complex. What a bandwith nightmare. I shelled out for my own modem instead, and a just-in-case ethernet cable.
    When I finished setting up my internet, I went online and found a mattress company that didn't charge extra for delivery. The mattress came within an hour. I dragged it into my room, off in the far corner where it wouldn't be in the way. I unpacked my sheets and dressed the bed. Then I took a quick nap. My dreams were hazy and muddled, but unpleasant enough to keep me from feeling refreshed. I cracked open an energy drink that tasted like warm pee and went dumpster diving. I found some beat-up but serviceable furniture outside the sorority buildings. I didn't bother with the frat houses. I figured anything I found there would be too gross worth salvaging.
    Getting the furniture home was a problem, but when I rang the doorbell of the alpha-kappa-sigma house, the girl I spoke to was really friendly. She owned the shiny red minivan parked in front, and agreed to drop the furniture off at my apartment for ten bucks. On the ride over, she chattered about rush week and I ended up back at my place with a nightstand, a battered dresser, a funky-looking floor lamp, and a pamphlet detailing all the reasons I should join a sorority.
    Time for another nap , I thought. But no, I still didn't have any food. Simple tasks. Basic tasks. Things I had taken for granted while living with my parents. They became Herculean labors in an apartment that didn't have air-conditioning. It was even worse outside. I had opened up all the windows in the hopes of catching a breeze. Nothing but dead air. It was one-hundred-and-five degrees outside and it seemed like the air might just catch on fire.
    Eventually the power turned on but then the AC didn't work. I called management to complain. Turned out the water wasn't on yet. I called and complained some more, only to be informed that the water should be working. Obviously, it wasn't. Someone in blue overalls came down to fix it. The air-conditioning switched on, as if by magic. After that, I vowed to run the AC nonstop, regardless of whether I was in the house or not. The welcoming rush of cold air would make up for the guilt.
    I took another nap in my cooling apartment, and then a cold shower. I no longer had the energy to go grocery shopping even though it was finally starting to cool down outside. My muscles were on fire and I was starving. Plus, I wanted to get the lay of the land before I went out wandering. I didn't want to get lost. Nothing would scream “new” like getting marooned in the desert. I decided to phone in for pizza and kicked back on my bed to wait.
    Forty minutes later, my doorbell rang. I dragged myself up to answer it. “Medium pizza, Hawaiian, and a two liter soda?” The guy on my porch spoke quickly, as if reciting from a cue card, not looking at my face. He seemed a little too interested in the writing on my tank-top.
    I looked down, and realized with horror that my sweat had all but rendered the white fabric transparent. Oh my God . I cleared my throat, crossing my arms as casually as I could, and said, “What do I owe you?”
    “ Eleven seventy-five.”
    I paid him the flat rate, pretending I had to scratch an itch on my elbow. “What about my tip?” he complained.
    “Here's a tip,” I said, struggling to balance both soda and pizza box. “Don't talk down to women, even if it's just to their boobs.” I slammed the door on his startled face with my butt, set the pop down, and locked it. God, he had looked about seventeen, too. I'd just robbed some high school delivery kid of his tip. I felt bad about that, but not bad enough to chase him down and give him the five bucks.
    The little pervert.
    I bit into a slice, scattering chunks of pineapple into the box. With my right hand, I opened my laptop and visited the college website. Classes started in just two weeks and my