Monkey Business

kimmy buys her books

4:30 p.m.

I am wasting my day in a bookstore line. And it’s not even a fun bookstore. Where are the cappuccinos, the magazines, the scones?

The LWBS bookstore is one long, windowless room, filled with textbooks, course-packs, and nebbish royal-blue sweatshirts that say LWBS in block red letters. As if I’d ever buy one. Maybe a baby tee, but that’s as much school spirit as I’ve got.

There are seven people ahead of me. To add insult to injury, the line next to me is moving exponentially faster. Look at me, throwing around words like exponentially. What do I think I am, an MBA student?

This place is busier than a gym at six o’clock. Not that I have a choice. I have cases to read by tomorrow. My heart pounds at the thought of the never-ending treadmill of homework. My fingers are about to break off from lugging these hundred-pound books. I’m holding one course-pack per class, plus an extra one for Strategy. Even IC has one, which I don’t understand. Why do I need photocopied case studies to help me learn to speak in public? I’m also lugging to the cash register the must-have B-school eighty-five-dollar calculator and seven textbooks. SEVEN. All hardcover. All in the region of a hundred dollars. Each. And they don’t even sell used copies so I can’t skimp on last year’s editions. What bookstore doesn’t sell used copies? What a waste. I won’t even be able to resell them next semester.

True, my dad paid my tuition, but I’m using the money I’ve saved up over the last few years of working to pay for my books and living expenses. And my dad isn’t thrilled about his contribution. He wrote the check with a heavy hand and asked me repeatedly if I was sure this was what I wanted.

I told him yes, even though I have no idea.

I drop the books onto the floor to alleviate the cramp in my fingers and scan the room for Russ. Where is he? I hoped he’d be buying his books now, too. Not that I want to see him. I’m a tiny bit mortified that I’ve been throwing myself at him all week and he already has a girlfriend. He must think I’m a freak. Obviously a guy as gorgeous as him has a girlfriend.

I avoided making eye contact with him for the remainder of the movie. In the car home, I decided that dodging the subject made me look like I cared, and obviously that wasn’t going to help my cause. So I acted like I loved Sharon. Hurray for Sharon. Maybe Sharon and I can be best buds. We’ll bake cookies and braid each other’s hair. “So when do we get to meet Sharon?” I asked from the front seat of Jamie’s ten-year-old Hyundai Excel, putting on my best girly voice, all high-pitched and full of fake cheer.

“I don’t know,” Russ answered. “She lives in Toronto.”

Toronto? Does it count if they’re not in the same country?

I avoided him all day. I walked straight into Strategy and sat right in the front. Big mistake, since Professor Martin is psycho. Thinks he’s still in Vietnam. I tried the front row again for Economics and IC. Barely saw Russ until he and Nick passed me on the way out and Nick asked me if I wanted to join them for a four-twenty. Decided to play it cool and say no. And I have no idea what a four-twenty is.

There he is. My mouth goes instantly dry as if a vacuum has sucked out its moisture. He and Nick are standing by the door. Nick stumbles, and the two of them laugh. Then they scan the bookstore and shake their heads in what I assume is dismay at the jungle in here.

Russ spots me and I freeze. He smiles and twirls his index finger near his temple, which I read as his this-line-is-crazy gesture.

I nod. “I know,” I mouth. I hold up two fingers and then point at my watch. I’m trying to tell him I’ve been here for two hours.

He shakes his head again. Then he points to his eyes and then at my books on the floor.

Translation (I think): Can I look at your books tonight?

My mouth goes dry again. I’m glad we’re not face-to-face because I don’t think I can talk properly. He wants to hang out with me tonight. To do reading. Together.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to wait in line.

Or maybe (it’s possible) he’s looking for an excuse to hang out with me.

I nod.

He says something to Nick that I can’t read, winks at me, and then takes off.

There’s suddenly a huge gap between my massive feet and the person in front of me in line. I pick up my five-hundred-pound pile, then drop it a foot up.

Sigh. How come the good ones are always taken? Russ is so cute. So perfect. I have the worst luck.

The person in front of me is at the cash register. I push my books forward with my foot.

First Wayne leaves me for someone else, and now the guy I want is taken.

The skinny purple-haired undergrad at the register motions to me. I’m up. I pick up my stuff in two shifts. How am I going to carry these back to the dorm? A boyfriend would carry them for me.

“That’ll be eight hundred, forty-seven dollars, and twenty-two cents.”

Good thing I didn’t buy that baby tee.