At the store, shopping for New Year’s dinner. The girl at the checkout someone from MacAdams. Eying him up and down as she moves his things across the scanner. Hey, she says. He nods, quick glance then away. Money crumpled in his fist. She squints at a package of wheat gluten. What even is this stuff? Xie shrugs. It’s um. Wheat for making seitan. What? It’s, um. Gluten. Just. Protein. She looks at him. Huh. Handing him his change. Haven’t seen you around lately. Yeah, I’m. Working with a tutor for a while. Off-campus. Oh. Well. Happy New Year. Outside it’s beautiful. Pure cold. Blackest sky and snow, in huge flakes, swirling in the lot. Ahead of him Karen hurries to her car, fingers hooked through plastic sacks full of groceries. Hey, he says, fingers brushing her arm, tentative. Hey, she says, turning to smile at him, genuine, radiant; so this is how she looks, he thinks, when she is happy. He takes her bags, cold hand brushing against hers. You with your dad? No. She gestures with her keys. Get in and I’ll drive you. I’m okay. You don’t even have a coat. I don’t mind. Well, at least come and warm up with me a minute. Opening the door for him. He tries to find a place to put his sneakers down among the trash on the floor; water bottles, napkins, gum packets, an empty pharmacy bag. Sorry, she says, leaning to pluck a brown banana from the dash. She rolls down her window, tosses the banana into a hedge, rolls the window back up. She runs the heat, rubbing her hands together in front of the vents. So. I’ve been thinking about you. He makes a face. No, I have, she says. Nothing bad. Laughing. You always expect the worst. I do? I mean, you always have this look like someone is going to give you bad news. He scratches the side of his face. Are you gonna give me bad news? Little smile. Hands in his hoodie. The opposite, I hope, she says. Look, next semester we can just forget all the MacAdams stuff. Read what you want, study what you want, talk about whatever you want to talk about. It really doesn’t make a difference to me whether or not you learn algebra. I don’t want to get you in trouble, he says. Don’t worry about it. As long as you understand the consequences, it’s fine with me. Better than fine. It’s not like I enjoy all the stuff, anyway. A pause. She ducks her head toward his, trying to catch his eye. What do you think? Yes? No? I, he starts. Confused by how different she seems, all that anger vanished. Maybe she decided. To be happy. So he should be happy, too. He nods. Okay. Thank you. She puts her hand on his wrist. You’re welcome.