“You work in medicine?” Heidi scooted to the edge of the cushion. Out in the world, she could meet people in any profession, not just the same batch of fools at the same dumb school. She yearned for every detail of Lisa Parsons’s life: the meat smell on the tiles in her hospital, her apartment with a brown velvet couch and portraits of friends pinned to the refrigerator, the freedom to go out and walk the city any time of night. That’s how bonds formed.

“Kim, you didn’t tell Heidi about my job?”

“Don’t remember.”

Lisa Parsons blinked with hurt. Maybe Kim was disappointed with Lisa Parsons’s weight or age. The picture Lisa Parsons had sent was old, it was obvious now, maybe even from high school. She’d smiled falsely in the shot, her bangs outdated, her jaw set with forced enthusiasm. Her hands were stacked tentatively, one on the other, like she was worried to touch her own skin. Heidi preferred Lisa Parsons now. She wanted to announce that there existed no handsomer woman, but that might’ve been awkward. “What do you do in medicine?”

“I’m an orderly.” Lisa Parsons rolled her eyes. “Go me.”

“I’ve always dreamed of being an orderly,” Heidi said, an appropriate response after someone revealed their profession.

“Oh, honey,” Lisa Parsons said. “I’m sure you’re smarter than that. I’m just floating until I can afford a tapestry loom. Weaving is my main deal.”

Heidi filled with warmth. No one ever called her honey.

“I’m smart too.” Kim’s voice quivered as though passing through Jell-O. “I get some Bs.” Kim yanked strings from a hole in her sweater. They built on her lap like a worm colony.

“Attention, please,” announced a lesbian.

“What is it, Anya?” asked Twig Hair, fondling a scone. “Will you sing a ballad?”

Lisa Parsons’s hand dropped onto Heidi’s knee under the coffee table. Heidi’s throat closed. Lisa Parsons stroked her, fanning her hand protectively over Heidi’s jeans. Heidi catalogued the weight of each finger, the palm’s circle, to reheat and enjoy later.

The woman named Anya stood up in unlaced boots. She was the only one, besides Lisa Parsons, who wouldn’t pass for a lesbian anywhere but here. She had staticky hair and three dimples.

“We indulge Lisa’s mentorship efforts,” Anya said. “But we never hear from the kids. Sure, we pat their heads and say they’re cute and isn’t Lisa so great to help, but have you ever thought we’re missing an opportunity? These kids must know something we don’t about this new ‘AOL culture.’ After all, these girls materialized from the internet, and to the internet they shall return.”

Lisa Parsons squeezed Heidi’s knee. “They’re kids, you guys. Come on. They’re shy.”

“Bullshit,” said a woman in a moss-colored sweater. “Check out the feisty one.” She pointed at Heidi.