Summer found herself only listening to the third CD that Benji had given her—the first two made her too sad.

She listened to the radio sometimes, too.

She saw Charlie at the Student Union with another girl. They might just be friends. But it made Summer feel more ordinary than ever.

Just thinking about Charlie made Summer feel mundane and replaceable.

Summer went down to dinner and, as usual, went looking for Benji’s table. Her jaw dropped when she saw him.

“What happened to you—do you have a job interview?”

Benji was wearing normal jeans and a Calvin and Hobbes T-shirt. She sat down across from him.

“I’m going to change after dinner,” he said. “Even though that means going all the way back to my room. And wasting ten minutes. And getting to the rec center when all of the good mats are taken.”

Benji looked almost like a normal person dressed like this. Still too big and loud and florid. But normal. Ish. His T-shirt strained over his arms.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Summer said, “but your arms look even bigger when you wear sleeves.”

“I just feel,” Benji said, tearing into the terrible mess on his dinner tray, “that I should be able to wear what I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“Wear what you want,” she said.

He huffed.

“But you look good.”

He huffed again. “I’m doing this for you, you know.” “I’m glad,” Summer said. “I appreciate it.”

His eyes were narrow, and he was staring at her.

She smiled at him. “You look good.”

She woke up to a new CD.

Winter Songs for Summer.

She took the other CDs out of her stereo, and put that one in.

Sometimes Benji’s friends came to eat with them on the north side.

They weren’t so bad. (Though they were very loud.)

“It must be nice to have friends who sacrifice the premium ice cream for you,” Summer said.

“You have that,” Benji said.

Benji had a car. An old Crown Vic.

He drove Summer to the mall to buy her new Vans. Benji needed shoes, too, but his feet were so big, all he could do was tell the salesperson what size he wore, and they brought out everything that might fit from the back room. Four pairs.

Benji bought black Nike high-tops with white swooshes. They got Orange Juliuses and listened to instrumental music on the way back to campus—you never knew what you were going to get with Benji.

Summer only saw Benji’s armpit hair now when she saw him at the gym. They went at the same time since he’d started changing after dinner. He’d walk over there with her and Michelle.

Summer still liked to needle him . . .

“You can’t lift weights while wearing sleeves? They sap your strength or something?”

“That’s right, Delilah.”