“It’s still the same,” he said.

They did the quick catch-up. Still at The Tar Heel (him). Still majoring in biology (her) and doing pre-med (her). Still friends with Ben (him), still thinking about English but maybe enough journalism to get a job on a newspaper (him). “I’m living off campus now,” she said. “Couple of other girls. I like it.”

“You were thinking about a sorority way back when.”

“Nope. Decided not to waste the money. I went to one pledge party and that was all it took.”

“Crazy year,” he said, after a lull.

“Can you believe we have a Baptist running for president, or whatever? Doesn’t even drink.”

“It’s all nuts. He’s probably going to win, though.”

She was chewing her underlip, considering. “So you might as well tell me. How’s Ben doing? Is he ever going to grow up?”

“He’s fine, I guess. Not happy about being a redshirt, wants to play. He’s around here somewhere. I’m going with him to the library.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Still doing his homework?”

“Helping. That’s all I do.” Said it simply. He had always been a good liar.

She made a sniffing sound, folded her arms. She changed the subject quickly, asked about movies. He wanted to see The Seven-Per-Cent Solution, yes. “I’ve seen it three times,” she said. “It’s creepy.”

“Really?”

“Am I ridiculous? If I like a movie I see it a lot.”

“No, that makes sense. I must have seen The Three Musketeers a half dozen times.”

There was Ben across the lobby near the snack bar entrance. Frowning, stormy. Like most of the time these days. Recognized Kathy, turned his back, took a few steps in the other direction.

“Need to go,” Ronny said.

She was picking at her nail polish. “Sure. We should get together sometime.”

“Yeah.” He was grinning. “We can see a movie.”

“Give my love to you know who.” Spoken with a sardonic lift of the eyebrow. She was about to turn away but stopped. “How’s Tate, by the way?”

“Same as always. Lives like one of the great apes.”

“Tell him hello for me. I liked him.”

She waved goodbye, something graceful in the gesture, and headed away.

He found Ben, and they walked to the undergraduate library just across the Pit, next to the student bookstore. Pole lights burned along the brick steps of the Pit, in front of and between buildings, small moons framed against brick walls, against the tall shrubs of the library. People gathered everywhere, in and out of shadow and light, some walking bicycles, a stout boy with a dog, a girl walking two steps behind him looking anxious, counting on her fingers. “You recognize the person I was talking to?” Ronny asked.

“Oh, sure.” Ben was in a sweater, tight across his shoulders, his jeans sagging and showing a bit of lean waist, walking in bedroom shoes, oddly enough. He saw Ronny watching. “I couldn’t find my real shoes,” he said.

“You mean your flip-flops.”