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part one

WHERE DOES THE GOOD GO?

We are in the parking lot of Dodger Stadiuotten where we left the car I keep telling him that it’s in Lot C, but he doesn’t believe me

“No,” he says, for the tenth tiot here, not left”

It’s incredibly dark, the path in front of us lit only by lan e parked

“You re,” I say, my tone clipped and pissed-off We’ve already been here too long, and I hate the chaos of Dodger Stadiuht, so I have that to be thankful for, but it’s ten PM, and the rest of the fans are pouring out of the stands, the two of us fighting through a sea of blue and white jerseys We’ve been at this for about twenty minutes

“I don’t re to look back at me as he speaks “You’re the one with the bad memory”

“Oh, I see,” I say, , suddenly, I’m an idiot?”

He turns and looks atlot is hilly and steep I’m slow

“Yeah, Lauren, that’s exactly what I said I said you were an idiot”

“I mean, you basically did You said that you knohat you’re talking about, like I don’t”

“Just help o home”

I don’t respond I simply follow him as he o home is a mystery to me None of this will be any better at home It hasn’t been for months

He walks around in a long, wide circle, going up and down the hills of the Dodger Stadiu with hi at his pace We don’t say anything I think of how much I want to screaht, too I think of how much I’ll probably want to screa much of the same And yet the air between us is perfectly still, uninterrupted by any of our thoughts So often lately, our nights and weekends are full of tension, a tension that is only relieved by saying good-bye or good night

After the initial rush of people leaving the parking lot, it becomes a lot easier to see where we are and where we parked

“There it is,” Ryan says, not bothering to point for further edification I turn aze There it is Our small black Honda

Right in Lot C

I smile at him It’s not a kind smile

He smiles back His isn’t kind, either

ELEVEN AND A HALF YEARS AGO

It was the e My fresh as I’d thought it ht be when I applied It was hard for me to meet people I went home a lot on weekends to see er sister, Rachel My mom and my little brother, Charlie, were secondary Rachel was the person I told everything to Rachel was the one Ihall, and I ate alone in the dining hall more than I cared to admit

At the age of nineteen, I was h school toward the top ofso h e if I wanted to transfer She kept saying that it was OK to look someplace else, but I didn’t want to I liked my classes “I just haven’t found my stride yet,” I said to her every time she asked “But I will I’ll find it”

I started to find it when I took a job in the hts, it was one or two other people and roups I could shine when I didn’t have to struggle to be heard And after a fewto know a lot of people Some of them I really liked And some of those people really liked me, too By the tio back in January I missed my friends

When classes began again, I found s I’d never been in before I was starting to take psychology classes since I’d fulfilled en eds And with this new schedule, I started running into the sauy everywhere I went The fitness center, the bookstore, the elevators of Franz Hall