The Roommate Situation by Zoe X. Rider Read Free Book Online Page A

wisp of smoke rises over the side of his arm. He’s holding the iron like a pencil.
    “Smells like burning hair.”
    “I can open a window.”
    “Nah.” I lean back. Derek’s eBay listings are in my browser history—they show up in the browser’s address bar when I start typing in eBay. Hot-faced, I erase my history and cache before bringing the guitar listings back up.
    “Do they have yard sales around here?” I ask, thinking of the Silvertone. Thinking a yard sale might be a cheaper way to get something to play.
    “Sure, I guess. Are you selling stuff?”
    That’s an idea. Sell some stuff I don’t need, add the cash to the fifty in my pocket. But what do I have in the room that I don’t need? “Do you think people would buy snacks?” I ask.
    “I’ve seen them do it at convenience stores.”
    “I mean from me.” I have a box of cocoa mix, some juice packs, applesauce, microwave popcorn…
    “I guess if it’s cheaper than they can get it elsewhere.”
    “Tell me if I’m bugging you,” I say.
    Derek sits back and puts his tool down. “My head’s not in it anyway. I really should be working on my project.”
    “Yeah, me too.”
    He stretches his arms over his head, lacing his fingers together, pulling his back straight. The slight curl in his hair touches between his shoulder blades as he tips his head back. Then he lets go and drops his arms. “Tell you what. We study for an hour, and I’ll go get us some beer to make the second hour easier.”
    “Serious?”
    “Only if you buy the next round.”
    “Deal!”
    * * * *
    After the first hour, he heads out with his cigarettes and returns with a six-pack of Natty Ice. After handing me a can and sticking the rest in his mini fridge, he puts his back against the side of my locker and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor. He pops his beer open. Taking a sip, he closes his eyes for a second, enjoying it. When he opens them, he says, “So what are you gonna do about the guitar situation?”
    “I’m thinking of getting a job, if I can find one.”
    “I guess that’s the other way around it. It is your guitar, though. You’re an adult, right?”
    “It’s just easier…”
    Derek sighs before taking another pull.
    I’m impressed that he’s able to do it without swallowing his toothpick.
    After taking a sip off my own, I say, “The alternate plan is to get my grades up so they can see I can handle the schoolwork.”
    “We are talking about your guitar, right? One you own, that belongs to you?”
    It’s my turn to sigh. “It’s four hours away. It’s not like I can swing by and pick it up. I can insist they send it, but past experience shows they’re really good at turning me into an irrational jerk, and I end up apologizing and doing extra chores. I guess at least they can’t guilt me into extra chores here.”
    “There’s that.”
    “How old are you?” I ask.
    “Twenty.”
    “How’d you get the beer?”
    “Trade secret.”
    “When did your parents stop running your life?”
    He laughs. “I’m not sure they ever did, you know, beyond the usual ‘Don’t touch the hot stove, kid,’ and ‘Don’t make me tell you to brush your teeth again.’”
    I push my laptop lid down. “So what else do you do?”
    “What else do I do?”
    “Besides go to class and make things with leather.”
    “What else is there time for? I go for rides on my bike.”
    “Until it’s too cold.”
    “No such thing.”
    “What else?” I pull my legs in and prop my elbows on my knees, the can of Natty Ice between my fingers.
    He shrugs. “I don’t know. Between school and work—I mean, it’s not just making the leather. I’ve gotta do the listings, ship the packages. I try to keep track of my expenses and income, which, I’ve gotta tell you, isn’t my favorite part, especially come tax time. It’s too bad you’re not taking accounting.”
    “Better luck next roommate,” I say.
    “I’ll take you over the last one. I can enjoy a