She was in the campus coffee shop, a small place called Brennan's, tucked between the bookstore and the writing center. She had found it on her second day and liked it because it was slightly off the main path and tended to attract students who wanted to actually study, rather than be seen studying.
She had a corner table, and her laptop, and a coffee that was better than she expected. She was working on an assignment for her Introduction to Sociology class when Reese came in with Burke.
She didn't look up. She didn't make eye contact. She did what she had learned to do, which was to make herself present, but unremarkable. Just another student with a laptop and a coffee.
It didn't work.
"Hey." Reese stopped beside her table. "The girl from the dining hall."
She looked up. "Hi."
"What's your name?"
She considered, for a moment, whether there was a version of this interaction that ended well. She couldn't find one.
"Mia," she said.
"Mia." He repeated it like he was deciding whether it was worth remembering. "You transferred in, right? Middle of the semester."
"Yes."
"From where?"
"Oregon."
He nodded slowly. "Long way."
"It is."
He pulled out the chair across from her, sat down without asking. Burke stood nearby, leaning against the wall, scrolling his phone with the particular energy of someone who was used to waiting.
"So, what are you doing at Harrove?" Reese asked.
"Studying," she said evenly.
He smiled. It was a nice smile. Technically symmetric. Practiced.
"I mean, why here? It's not exactly a top 10 school."
"It works for what I need."
"Which is?"
She looked at him for a moment. He was curious, she realized. Not in a friendly way. In the way that some people are curious about new things that have appeared in their environment. Testing to see what they do.
"School," she said.
He laughed a little, surprised. Not because it was funny, but because she wasn't performing nervousness for him. People usually performed nervousness for him. She could tell.
"Fair enough," he said.
He stood up, pushed the chair back in, looked at her with that same light assessment. "Good luck with that."
He walked out. Burke followed.
She looked back at her laptop. Her coffee had gone slightly cold. She drank it anyway.
She met Coach Adella Foss on the fourth day, by accident.
She had taken a wrong turn looking for the gym's weight room and ended up in a corridor that smelled like floor polish and old rubber. The specific smell of athletic spaces that have been used for a very long time.
She was consulting the campus map on her phone when a door opened and a woman walked out.