The pool empties out and then fills up again around us as a good hour passes while we laugh and comment on the various poolside behaviors of our classmates. Corinne has to be physically stopped from loudly pointing out Derek Shaal’s boner in the water.

“That, right there, that’s definitely a tumescence! Look! Look!” she whispers loudly enough for a few people to hear and glance poor Derek’s way.

“I’m absolutely not looking,” I say, eyes on my drink. “These things, er, happen. Give the guy a moment.”

“It’s the humane thing to do,” Ming agrees, looking at the water solemnly.

“Boy behavior is fascinating,” Corinne says, shaking her head but reluctantly looking away while Derek slinks out of the pool as discreetly as he can.

At some point, someone shouts out the two magic words “Mario Kart!” and Ming all but somersaults away with a “Lata, suckas!” and almost slides directly into two passing girls.

“We might never see him again,” I say as we watch him readjust the potted plant he just knocked aside.

“You can go too if you want,” Corinne says. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“Pass. I’ve lost enough races to Princess Peach for a lifetime, thank you very much.” That speed boost–catching wench.

Corinne’s eyes are locked on Marvyn getting ready to attempt a backflip into the pool. He’s instructing Danny O’Brien on exactly how to capture the cinematic moment on his phone.

“So, what’s the endgame here?” I ask, snapping her out of it.

“W-what do you mean?” she asks after clearing her throat.

“Well, you’ve been a real social butterfly lately. Think Mrs. Carroll is ready to amend her recommendation from ‘intense’ to ‘mellow’?”

Corinne smiles, shyly at first and then giddily. “She already did!”

She leans in conspiratorially. “I couldn’t just tell her I had read her letter, right? So, I just stopped by her offices after class and started talking about how I felt disconnected from my peers and was worried about the social side of college.”

She makes it sound like a performance, but there’s definitely a kernel of truth in her voice.

“She said she noticed, gave me a bunch of pamphlet-y advice, and encouraged me to get out of my shell.

“A few days later, I sent her an email with nine photo attachments of me hanging out with my peers and profusely thanking her for making me stop and smell the calla lilies. She was so happy I had taken her advice that she sent me a draft of the new recommendation letter she was sending Princeton on my behalf.”

“Congrats, Troy!” I say, holding up a hand for a high five. “See? You gotta play the game! Cursing her out wouldn’t have gotten you closer to Princeton.”