Ten minutes later, she was finished and plopped down next to him, her spoils crumpled beside her. Apollo kissed her aggressively, eager for a taste of the familiar. Zed laughed in response, pulling away and taunting him before finally allowing him to score another peck.

“Make any enemies?” he asked.

“Maybe. There’s some group called the Encrypts. Great name, but all they do is study cryptocurrencies. I told them they’re wasting their time.”

“And a great name. What’s with white guys and cryptocurrencies?”

“Beats me.”

“I saw you signed up for the African American Student Union.”

“Yeah, they seemed pretty cool.”

“Meh. Seemed like they lacked focus to me. ‘Let’s get together ’cause we’re black’ is so backwards. There’s much better reasons to be getting together.”

“You’re too smart to really believe that’s why they exist, but just in case you do, I’m definitely dragging you to their meetings.”

“Whatever.”

Mr. Pang suddenly appeared, his face brimming with amusement. Zed and Apollo looked up at him in unison, remaining seated.

“All you two did was walk down a hallway and talk to people. How can you be so tired?”

“Talking is exhausting when no one is listening,” Apollo complained.

“I thought everyone was pretty attentive, actually,” Zed replied.

Apollo shrugged, grabbing his assorted loot and standing up.

“The meter has two more hours left,” Mr. Pang informed them. “I refilled it while you were gone. You two can meet your interim advisors or we can walk around the city, maybe go to the Varsity! It’s up to you.”

“So that’s what that auditorium thing was about? We can just email our advisors. We’re not really dressed for meetings.”

Mr. Pang’s brow slowly lifted. Apollo could feel his gaze linger over his exposed arms, which housed two pound signs inked into his triceps. Suddenly embarrassed, Apollo refracted the glance onto the other new students filling the hall. Almost all of the guys were wearing polos and khakis, and almost all of the girls were clad in floral sundresses. Apollo was the only one rocking a sleeveless tank top, he realized with regret. He hated it when he felt the need to surveil himself. Zed fit in much better, her burgundy sundress compromised only by her knee-length white socks.

“Mm-hmm,” was Mr. Pang’s only response.

“I want to go home and get back to summer,” Zed said, comforting Apollo with a conspiratorial side-eye. “And Dad, the Varsity is gross. Even the soda has grease.”

Apollo chuckled, helping Zed up. Mr. Pang sighed and led them out of the building. Outside, they were greeted by blistering heat, sunlight so concentrated that it felt personal, air so humid that Apollo could grasp it in his hand. Summer was overrated.

“I’d like to apologize,” Mr. Pang said as they pulled into Apollo’s driveway, snapping Apollo awake.

“For what, Dad?”