Tully groaned and sat back, crossing her arms in disgust, waiting minute by minute for class to end. The second the bell rang, she shot to her feet. “Thank God. Let’s go.”

Kate finished with her notes and collected her pages, methodically organizing everything in her notebook.

“Are you making paper? Come on. I want to meet the editor.”

Kate stood up and slung her backpack over one shoulder. “We are not going to get a job at the newspaper, Tully.”

“Your mom told you not to be so negative, remember?”

They went downstairs, merging into the loud crowd of students.

Outside, the sun shone brightly on the brick-covered courtyard known as Red Square. Over by Suzzallo Library, a group of long-haired students were gathered beneath a CLEAN UP HANFORD sign.

“Quit complaining to my mom when you don’t get your way,” Kate said as they headed for the Quad. “We can’t even get into journalism classes until we’re juniors.”

Tully stopped. “Are you really not going to come with me?”

Kate smiled and kept walking. “We aren’t going to get the job.”

“But you’ll come with me, right? We’re a team.”

“Of course I’m coming.”

“I knew it. You were just messing with me.”

They kept talking as they walked through the Quad, where the cherry trees were lush and green, as was the grass. Dozens of students in brightly colored shorts and T-shirts played Frisbee and hacky sack.

At the newspaper office, Tully stopped. “I’ll do the talking.”

“I’m shocked, really.”

Laughing, they went into the building, announced themselves to a shaggy-looking kid at the front desk, and were directed to the editor’s office.

The entire meeting lasted less than ten minutes.

“Told you we were too young,” Kate said as they walked back to the sorority.

“Bite me. Sometimes I think you don’t even want to be a reporter with me.”

“That’s a complete lie: you hardly ever think.”

“Bitch.”

“Hag.”

Kate put an arm around her. “Come on, Barbara Walters, I’ll walk you home.”

Tully was so depressed over the meeting at the newspaper that Kate spent the rest of the day cajoling her into a good mood.

“Come on,” she finally said, hours later, when they were back in their minuscule room in the sorority house. “Let’s get ready. You want to look your best for the exchange.”

“What do I care about a stupid exchange? Frat boys are hardly my ideal.”