The Friends List Ch. 04

"How was Academic Counselling?" I asked once we'd sat down.

"It was good!" Sam flashed me a brilliant white smile. "I'd already registered for my first year classes online, but it was nice to make sure I was on the right track and know what my program requirements are. And the counsellor was super nice!"

"You feel like you've got a good handle on it now?"

"I think so! You never know what you don't know, but I at least feel prepared academically. I feel rusty, since it's been a year since I've been in school, but I'm really excited to start university!"

"So what would you like from the afternoon?"

"Well, I'm not familiar with campus, so I'd like to walk around and see where my residence is going to be, plus all the buildings where I have class, just to make sure I know where I'm going. And can you show me any other places on campus that you think I need to be aware of?"

"Sure, and that's a good plan. When I started I really didn't know what I was doing, either, but I feel like I've learned a fair bit in three years."

"I'm sure you have. I don't regret taking a gap year, but it's a little annoying being a year behind all my friends, and a year older than everyone else in first year. I'm still looking forward to the whole first year experience, though."

"You're taking the Social Justice program, right? Can I ask why?"

"Sure, but it's a long story."

"We have all afternoon."

"Yeah, fair enough." Sam finished her sandwich, crumpling up the packaging and turning to face me. "Let's walk and talk."

We headed out to walk around Queen's campus. Kingston is located at the head of Lake Ontario, where the Great Lakes drain into the St. Lawrence River and eventually on to the Atlantic Ocean. The city is an old one by Canadian standards, and with the entire area being built on limestone, the city and campus both have a uniformly grey stone look to them. Like all first world university campuses, Queen's has its share of concrete monstrosities and modern glass and steel buildings, but the core of the university was a collection of Gothic piles, built of local limestone and very pretty. Sam had her first year class schedule with her, so I just started heading aimlessly towards whatever buildings popped up on her timetable. It was a beautiful summer day, with deep blue skies and a light breeze, low humidity, a perfect day for a long walk.

"So," Sam began as we walked. "Before I launch into my life story, you're an economics major, right? Why did you pick Queen's?"

"It was far enough from home that I could really feel like I was independent, and it's one of the best schools in Canada," I answered. "I wanted to stay in-province, and out of the other top Ontario schools, the only other that's more than two hours' driving from Guelph is Ottawa, and I didn't want to have to deal with it being officially bilingual. My French is terrible."

"Yeah, that's fair. And why econ?"

"I've always liked numbers and been good at math, but I never wanted to do pure math or computer science or engineering. I like using numbers to tell a story, I guess, rather than just using them for what they are. But really, it's just a foundation to go to law school. I've always wanted to be a lawyer, and law doesn't care what your undergrad is in. I took a general first year, history, political science, psychology, etc., and economics was the course I did the best in and enjoyed the most. So here I am."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "What kind of lawyer do you want to be?"

"I'd rather be in something corporate than working for individual clients," I answered, "since it's a steadier paycheque and the long hours aren't quite as long. I also don't ever want to have to advertise myself on the side of a bus. But to be honest, I want to try out all different areas of the law and see what jumps out at me. I didn't pick my major until I was already in university, and I can see law school going the same way."

"Fair enough."

"How about you? Why Queen's?"

"Because my family has a long history of going to Western, and Queen's is Western's arch-rival." She laughed.

"That sounds like a story."

"Yeah, you could say that, and that dovetails nicely into why I'm doing my program, too. I had my political awakening, if you'd call it that, in high school. I don't know if you know, but I grew up pretty well-off."

"I'd heard rumours to that effect," I commented drily.

"Yeah, it does kind of follow you around."

She was silent for a moment.

"No one wants to hear about the problems of a rich girl, and I get that. But when you grow up like that, not wanting for anything, summers up north, winters in hot places or skiing in Europe, you just accept it as normal. I think kids grow up believing whatever they consider normal for them is normal for everyone, and it isn't until you become a teenager that you really become conscious of how you're different from other people."

"I'm with you so far."

"When I was maybe 14 or 15, I realized just how privileged I'd grown up, and I decided I wanted to devote myself to helping others. Back then, I was the kind of girl who'd give money to every homeless person I met, trying to do good by everyone, but I figured out eventually that not only do people take advantage of you when you act like that, but giving money to a homeless guy to spend on drugs doesn't solve anything. As I got older, I realized that you can't solve inequality on such a simple level. I wanted to do a social justice degree to try and make changes on a societal level. Maybe my giving twenty bucks to a homeless guy won't make a difference to solving poverty, but understanding the root causes of it and working to correct them just might."

"You're wanting to solve poverty and inequality, huh?" I asked.

"I sound just like a ditzy 19-year-old who thinks she can solve all that's wrong with the world, right?" She laughed disarmingly.

I'd been thinking it, but I was surprised to hear Sam say it aloud in such a self-aware way. "No, not quite," I stumbled unconvincingly.

"When you grow up like I did, you get used to people judging you. My Dad's a medical doctor and a CEO, my Mom's a bank manager. My older brother is doing a business degree at Western, and he wants to be a sociopathic venture capital dweeb someday. My little sister is an underachiever, but she's still hugely into brand names and influencer culture. I'm the only one in my family who isn't obsessed with money and status.

"And sure, part of recognizing my privilege is recognizing that I can devote myself to social justice causes without worrying about how I'm going to put food on the table. Trust me, I'm aware of what I am. But I know what's in my heart, and as long as I put more good into the world than my family takes out of it, I can sleep at night with that. I've accepted what I can't control."

"So what about the BMW?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "I never asked for a BMW. I didn't even want a car. I was fine with taking the bus. But Dad insisted: 'No daughter of mine is going to take the bus.' And sure, I drive it, I like it fine. Having a car is convenient. But even if I had to have a car, I was fine with an old beater. Dad was the one who was concerned with the family's image."

"The designer clothes?"

"I'll give you that one. But it's this body. You try finding clothes that fit when you're 5'9" with no hips and tits like mine."

"Your trip to Peru?"

"It was voluntourism. I went to assist at a medical clinic with Doctors Without Borders. Sure, it wasn't all work, I had fun and I went to Machu Picchu, but most of the trip was spent in clinic."

I looked at Sam with something like a newfound respect. Monique had been right, of course - Sam wasn't a stereotypical rich girl after all.

"Don't take this the wrong way," I said carefully, "but I totally believe you're the middle child."

Sam snickered. "Like I said, Peter, I'm aware of what I am. I'm totally the black sheep of the family."

"I was the only sheep," I responded. "At least until Mom and Walt got together."

"Yeah, I remember hearing about it. Vanessa and I didn't become friends until Grade 9, so you were always in her life as long as I've known her. But I'm sure it was challenging for you, learning how to be someone's brother after so long?"

"It was. But we're starting to build a relationship lately."

"I'm happy to hear that, and Vanessa's mentioned something similar. I'm not going to share anything Vanessa told me in confidence, but we've had the mutual 'my brother is such an idiot' conversation a couple times over the years. Mine still is, but Vanessa is slowly coming around on you. And I can totally understand how blending a family would lead to mistrust on both sides. At least you and her are starting to relate to each other."

"I'm really glad that we're finally getting a little closer, and I don't care if you tell her that. I've told her myself. I never really understood how things got so bad between us, but I'm putting in an effort to fix it, and it matters to me that I can tell she's doing the same."

Just then we reached Victoria Hall, the dorm where Sam was going to be living, and I pointed it out to her.

"What's Victoria Hall like?" she asked.

"It's a traditional-style residence, two to a room, two beds, two desks, etc. But it's fine. It's really social."

"I heard it's the party residence," she continued.

"Yeah, you heard right. Most weekends there's something going on. If you want to sleep, earplugs aren't a terrible investment."

"I'm fine with living in the party residence, to be honest. I'm kind of looking forward to letting loose a little."

"Well, there will be lots of opportunity if you want it, whatever you're into. First year is as chaste or as debauched as you make it, but if you're looking to drink until you puke or catch STI's, there's going to be no shortage of people willing to help."

Sam laughed. "I'm not looking for either of those things, but I get what you're saying."

"Have you met your roommate?"

"Not in person," Sam said, "but we've added each other on Facebook. She seems nice enough. Did you know your first year roommate before you started school?"

"No, I got paired randomly with Tom, and it was a great pairing, as you can see by the fact we still live together. Hopefully yours will be, too."

"I hope so. Any other tips on living in residence?"

"Don't commit floorcest," I said sincerely.

"Floor-cest?"

"Yeah. During orientation week, a whole load of horny kids, living away from home for the first time, come to school looking to party and get laid. Even though O-Week is technically dry, it's going to be super easy to find booze and sex. The advice is not to sleep with anyone who also lives on your floor. You're going to see the same people every day for the entire year, and you're not going to want to keep bumping into a former one-night stand on the regular."

"Did you live at Victoria in first year?"

"No, I lived at Morris."

"And did you commit floorcest?"

"No, but only because I still was trying to make it work with my high school girlfriend at the time. Like I said, I lived with Tom in first year, and he slept with a girl three doors down the second night of orientation, and it was just as awkward as you'd imagine every time we saw her afterwards, especially since they were both drunk and he didn't remember her name."

"Ouch." Sam cringed.

"But, you know, every new class passes on the same advice to the incoming class, and every incoming class ignores it. You're going to do what you're going to do. But you've been warned."

Sam considered this for a minute. "You warn me about this, but you've committed friendcest this summer, right?"

My heart rate spiked suddenly. "What do you mean?" I asked slowly.

"Well, you know, you hooked up with Laura, you hooked up with Kirsten, and I heard about some monkey business with Natalie and that other girl up at the cottage, too."

"Yes?" I said carefully.

"I'm not judging, Peter. But aren't you worried about creating drama?"

"I am, actually." My brain was running a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to tell Sam my side of what had happened this summer without ratting out Monique. "Laura, I regret. It was a drunken one-night stand."

"Oh, I get that. I've never personally been that close with Laura. She's a little much sometimes. I was kind of glad when Vanessa had to order her not to keep talking about how good you were in bed. No one-night stand could be that good."

"I mean, I am that good," I interjected modestly.

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'd think you were bullshitting, except then you went and hooked up with Kirsten, and she backed you up. She needed someone to talk to, so I had to hear every single detail every single time you and her hooked up. And my goodness, were you ever good for her. Her career is the source of her stress, but I know you know that her ongoing sexual frustration wasn't helping. So yeah, I do actually believe your stupid male bragging."

I tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at me.

"And then I had to miss all that craziness at the cottage..." She sighed wistfully. "I wish I hadn't had to work that night. Those girls aren't the type of girls to have stuff like that just happen, and I doubt it'll ever happen again. I can't believe I missed it. Those are the kind of experiences I'm hoping to have in first year. I want to play strip poker and drinking games and make bad life choices."

"I would definitely recommend it. Everyone needs a slutty period at some point in their life."

"And I'm ready for mine. But like I said earlier, aren't you worried about drama? What happens if Vanessa finds out?"

"I don't know."

"You're making a group of girls who've always told each other everything have secrets for the first time, and I'm not super impressed with you about that." She glared accusingly at me.

I waited for a moment to see if there was more. "But..."

"But it takes two to tango. Laura and Kirsten both made their own decisions and I don't think either of them regret it. Kirsten definitely doesn't regret it. Laura, I don't know, but I'd guess she still thinks it was worth it. Your reputation as a ladies' man precedes you a little. And Natalie and that other girl, well, I heard about what happened up there too, and I get it. I'd have needed to get off after a night like that too, and it's not like you roped them into a threesome. So I can't really fault you for anything you've done. Three girls all made their own decisions, and I think they were all the right ones."

"Technically, four girls," I interjected.

Samantha shot me a look. "Fine, four girls. That's not better."

"Well, it's not like I've got a hundred notches on my bedpost. I've dated two girls seriously in my life, one in high school and one in university. My own slutty period only started less than a year ago, after I got over Carmen dumping me. And it's not like a man can get laid just by going to the bar with a sandwich board reading 'Get It Here'. I've had a few successes, but I'm not a gigolo."

"Your false modesty is refreshing, but I know you've got game, Lonergan. I've heard too much about you from Kirsten and Laura to believe you're a truly innocent boy." She eyed me carefully.

"What about you?" I asked, trying to turn the tables. "What's your story?"

"Well, like I said, I'm looking forward to a slutty period, which implies I haven't had one yet. There have been a few boys in my life over the years, but I wouldn't say I've ever been in love."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there a story there?"

"There is, but I'm not sure I'm ready to tell it to you." She stopped walking and turned to face me. "What do you know about the Social Justice program here?"

A few hours later, we made it back to the house in time for supper. My roommates and I specialized in low-effort student cuisine, and we made a basic pasta dinner for four and cracked open a case of beer. Tom and Clarence both were still acting a little intimidated by the goddess in our midst, whereas I was more confused than anything else.

Sam hadn't been the person I'd thought she was - she was a total sweetheart, grounded, quick-witted, and surprisingly self-aware. But there had been zero flirtatiousness between us, either, and no hint of sexual tension. Getting with Laura and Kirsten and some of the other women I'd slept with over the past year had been comparatively simple; I just flirted and watched for the signs it was working. But Sam was still acting guarded around me, keeping me at a distance, and I could acknowledge I'd spent most of the day doing the same to her. If she was the crush, I wasn't seeing any signs of it, and if one of us had to bite the bullet and make a move, I still was having trouble figuring out how to proceed.

That night, the four of us went down to Stages Nightclub. Despite her maturity, Sam was still newly 19 and finally of legal drinking age in Ontario, and she wanted to go dancing. While I wasn't sure Stages would be as jam-packed with students in late summer as it would be in September, it was still the place to go if you were looking to go dancing, get wasted, or get laid. Sam had put on a low-cut hot pink top and fake leather miniskirt, and Tom nearly fell over when she first emerged from Steve's room to head out. I had to force myself not to stare at Sam's impressive cleavage, and her glitter makeup made her cheekbones sparkle even in the low lighting of our tiny house.

The four of us walked the short distance downtown around ten o'clock, all of us pleasantly buzzed from having had a few drinks throughout the evening. We made it into the nightclub no problem, finding it nearly at capacity but not yet at the point where the bouncers had started making people wait in a line outside. Truthfully, Stages had never been my scene. I'd occasionally gone when I was looking to score with some random girl, but I preferred pubs and live music venues to dance clubs. But I was willing to go along with Sam and be a good tour guide and see where the night led.

Over the next couple of hours, I grew even less convinced that Sam had a crush on me. She was a good dancer, fluid and sensual, and seemed grateful to have three male chaperones to fend off interest from other guys, but there was still no easy chemistry between us. I'd danced and flirted with enough women over the years to have a sixth sense about when things might be going somewhere, and I had no inkling that Sam saw me as anything more than her friend's brother and her tour guide. I decided not to think too much about what this meant in my slightly drunken state.

As the night progressed, Clarence started hitting it off with a pretty brunette covered in tattoos, and the two of them eventually left the bar in each other's arms. I was happy for him. Tom, for his part, was always the biggest drinker of all of us, and he soon was wasted to the point that he barely seemed to know what was going on. I was glad when the bartender cut him off, as I knew from experience it wasn't easy for him to stop himself when he really got going. Sam kept dancing in her own world, and I mostly just kept pace with her, enjoying the looks of jealousy from other guys who thought we were together.

When last call came around two in the morning, I made my last trip up to the bar and got my nightcap drink, then headed back to the dance floor. I'd momentarily lost sight of Tom and Samantha in the crowd, and then I spotted Sam, near the back corner of the dance floor, with Tom nowhere in sight. In a second I registered the look on her face - she was drunk, but she was also uncomfortable, fearful even. As I got closer, I noticed a muscular, frat boy-looking guy aggressively grinding against her. Without thinking about it, I sprung into action.