Barely a month into freshman year, and this girl from my Intro to Lit class hands me a box of Godiva chocolates and asks me to grab lunch at the dining hall. Under the general principle of "there's no such thing as a free lunch," and not really looking to get into anything, I brought the chocolates with me, planning to give them back to her face-to-face. The dining hall wasn't too packed. She shoved her tray into my hands. "You get the food, I'll go save us a table. I'll have the mac and cheese, some green beans, and the beer-braised chicken. Oh, and a bowl of chili." My roommate, trailing behind me, couldn't stop laughing. Was he jealous? Nah, probably not. The girl looked like she could hold her own, and a single serving of mac and cheese wasn't going to cut it. I got two double portions of everything and told my roommate to find his own table with our other buddies. I'd drop off the food and the chocolates, and then join them. She’d found a table in the furthest, darkest corner of the hall and was waving at me like I was a ship coming into port. "You're so nice! It's such a blessing to have you as a classmate," she said, gesturing for me to sit across from her. I pointed back toward my roommates. "Here's your chocolate back. I didn't really do anything to deserve it. My friends are waiting for me, so, uh, enjoy your meal." "Wait!" She stuck her fork out to block my path. "Don't go. I need to talk to you about something. Just sit, eat with me. You see your roommates every day, right?" I glanced over at my friends. They were definitely watching us. "It's really important," she insisted. "Seriously. If you want, I can go tell your roommates to let you off the hook for a bit." I turned back around, and my roommates were already inhaling their food like a pack of wolves, giving me a thumbs-up with their mouths full before grabbing their trays and bolting. I swear, those guys. Did they really think I was on a date? "Fine," I said, putting my tray down. "What's up?" We were new freshmen. Even though we were in the same class, I'd known her for maybe three weeks. I couldn't even remember her name. "You're from around here, right? A local?" she asked, already digging in. "Yeah, I am." "That's so awesome. You can go home on weekends, eat home-cooked meals, sleep in your own bed. You're so lucky." "It's alright, I guess. When you grow up in a city, you kind of take it for granted. I'm actually jealous of you guys who got to go away for college." In the time it took to say that, I was halfway through my food. The dining hall was buzzing with people, and I really didn't want any professors or classmates to get the wrong idea—that I was some desperate guy trying to lock down a girlfriend the second I got to campus. "And your family has an empty condo near campus, right?" "Huh? How did you know that?" "You posted it yourself, silly." Her question, dropped so casually, felt weird. Then it hit me. Three years ago, to motivate me to study for the SATs, my dad bought a condo right near this university. He made a bet with me: if I got in, the place was mine. Junior year of high school, when the building was finished, I went to check it out. It was nice, with a killer view overlooking the campus football field. I got a little full of myself and posted a ridiculously cocky picture on Instagram with a caption like, "Three-year wager, one year to go. Soon, this view and this crib will be mine. Not that I'm greedy, I just hate to lose." I cringed. "Oh god, that. I was just messing around. Forgot to delete it." She chuckled. "I thought it was cool. You're a good writer. You're lucky, your family must be well-off to buy you a whole new place. Are you gonna move out of the dorms? I saw from the pictures it's super close to the east gate." "No, no way. I'm definitely staying in the dorm. It's freshman year, you don't just move off-campus unless you're, like, moving in with a partner or something. We're not even sure what we're doing with the place. My parents think it's too far for them, so we might just sell it after I graduate. Haven't really thought about it." "Well, that's perfect! You can do me a small favor, then." I was pretty much done eating, ready to make my escape. "Here's the thing," she said, putting down her fork and looking me straight in the eye. "My dad's been sick for a while. He has to come into the city for hospital treatments all the time. We live in a small town a few hours away, and just the bus ride back and forth takes up the whole day. It's exhausting. We can't afford to keep him in the hospital for long stretches, and renting a place in the city is just too expensive. It breaks my heart seeing my parents, at their age, go through that hell just to get to the hospital. That's why I worked my ass off to get into this school..." We don't have any doctors in my family. Maybe she wanted me to ask my dad to pull some strings, find a specialist? "…and since you have an empty condo you're not even using, you could just let us use it. For my dad, for when he has his treatments. It would save them the trip, and all that money could go towards his medical bills instead. Don't worry about utilities and stuff, we'd cover that. I know those units come furnished, but it's probably missing some things. We can figure that out. We could even pitch in for some furniture, but it has to be good stuff, you know, no formaldehyde. It's bad for you, especially for someone who's already sick..." It took a second, but I finally understood what she was saying. And at the same time, I understood nothing at all. "His next treatment is this Saturday," she continued, "so I can take you with me to pick him up, and then we can swing by the condo to see what we need to buy. We can make a list together." The words just fell out of my mouth. "Are you... serious? Is this a joke?" She looked confused. "What do you mean? Who's joking?" "You. I'm not hearing things, am I? You want me to just... give you my family's condo for your dad to live in?" "Yeah. Did I not explain it clearly? If he has a place to stay here, he won't have to take that awful bus ride every week. It's tiring and a waste of money. I could focus on my studies instead of constantly taking days off. It saves money, time, energy, and a whole lot of anxiety. What's not to like?" She asked it so simply that for a second, I didn't know how to respond. What's not to like? I mean, yeah, it sounded great. For her and her dad. It seemed like the only person she hadn't considered was the actual owner of the condo. "So it's settled!" She flashed a brilliant smile, her eyes curving into crescents. It was a nice smile, but there was no way in hell I was agreeing to this. Considering we were in the same class and had four more years together, I went for the gentle approach. "Look, it's my parents' place. I'd have to ask them. I'll let you know." "Great! It's a deal! Oh, and at the freshman mixer tonight, I'm sitting with you." "We'll see what the RAs have planned," I said, grabbing my tray. "I'm done. I gotta go. You take your time." I practically ran out of there. I sprinted back to my dorm room to find my roommates giving me shit. One said I was moving too fast, another said I wasn't picky. With a grim look on my face, I repeated the girl's entire proposal. I was met with four slack-jawed stares. The funniest part? None of the five of us could remember her name. "So, are you actually going to ask your parents?" my roommate Sam asked. "Of course not! What would I even say? They'd think I got a girl pregnant. In a couple of days, I'll just tell her they said no, that they already rented it out." "A couple of days?" Mark, my roommate from Jersey, chimed in. "She said she's sitting with you tonight. She's gonna want an answer tonight." "Fine. I'll tell her no tonight. Better to rip the band-aid off." The event that evening was a mixer for our entire department—four different freshman classes, over a hundred people. The RAs said it was about building unity for future stuff like intramural sports and student government events. Basically, it was a bunch of forced icebreakers and cheesy games. At 7 PM, my roommates and I walked into the lecture hall. It was already half-full and buzzing with noise. The first thing I saw was her, waving frantically from the front rows. My stomach dropped. I pretended I didn't see her and shuffled with my friends towards the back, grabbing seats in the corner. But she was relentless. She got up and marched over, calling out my name. "Liam! Didn't you hear me calling you?" "Sorry," I mumbled, embarrassed. "It's loud in here, I didn't see you." "Come on, sit with me." "Nah, we're all sitting together. A dorm thing." She glared at my four roommates, clearly annoyed. After a beat, she snapped, "Well, can one of you guys move? Don't you have any social awareness?" Mark scoffed. "There are tons of empty seats. Why do you have to squeeze in here with us? Who even are you?" "We're in the same class! Liam and I are good friends. What's wrong with wanting to sit together?" Mark actually laughed out loud. "Good friends? School just started. You guys became 'good friends' that fast? Damn, that's efficient. When are you gonna introduce us to some 'good friends'?" He was from Jersey; subtlety wasn't his thing. I quickly jumped in. "It's about to start. You should probably sit with your roommates. It looks like everyone's sticking with their own floors." She thought for a moment. "Fine. But I have a surprise for you later." She went back to the front. Mark leaned over. "A surprise? You sure you didn't get her pregnant?" I shot him a look that could kill. The mixer started. The RAs had us do some lame team-building exercises. None of us were really into it. Until that girl walked up to the stage. "Hi everyone, my name is Chloe, and I'm from Section One. I'm going to recite a poem for you all, Maya Angelou's 'Still I Rise.'" She even had background music playing from her phone. "You may write me down in history, with your bitter, twisted lies, you may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I'll rise..." So her name was Chloe. It rang a faint bell from the first day's introductions. "...Leaving behind nights of terror and fear, I rise. Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear, I rise." The room broke into applause. To be fair, she was a pretty good public speaker. When the clapping died down, Chloe didn't leave the stage. She continued, "I want to dedicate this poem to a classmate of mine. Someone who, like a ray of sunshine, has given me warmth and hope." A collective "Ooooooh" rippled through the lecture hall. You could practically smell the gossip brewing. "You might not know this, but I come from a low-income family. My father is sick, and my mother has worked her fingers to the bone to keep our family afloat. I swore to myself that I would study hard, get into college, and find a way to help my dad get better, to give my mom a break." The mood in the room suddenly turned serious. "For his treatments, my dad has to come to the city hospital constantly. Sometimes four or five times a month. Every time, he drags his exhausted body onto a stuffy Greyhound bus for a three-hour ride, all because he wants a chance to live. I was starting to lose hope. I felt like I was just watching him get worn down by this endless cycle of pain." A few girls in the audience were quietly wiping away tears. "And then he came along," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "When I was just a new student, lost and overwhelmed, he extended a hand as warm as the spring sun. He told me he would lend me his family's condo, so my dad could stay here in the city, so that three-hour journey could become a short walk. Classmates, this is his family's new condo. A place no one has ever lived in. How can someone be so kind? So unable to bear witness to the suffering of others? He is my ray of hope. My classmate, Liam!" The lecture hall erupted in applause. Over a hundred pairs of eyes turned to stare at me. Their expressions were a mix of admiration, awe, and maybe something else. I was frozen in my corner, my mind a total blank. My parents divorced when I was a kid and got back together a few years later. It sounds fine, but it made me way more sensitive than other kids. I'm an easy-going guy. I can let things slide. But I will not be walked all over. The head RA smiled. "Liam, why don't you say a few words?" I could hear girls whispering nearby. "Is he going to confess his feelings?" "Right here? At a freshman mixer? That's bold." "In front of the RA and everything. Wow, I must be getting old." Under the weight of all those expectant stares, I stood up. Facing a teary-eyed Chloe, I spoke clearly and loudly. "You don't have to thank me. I never said you could use the condo, and I'm not going to." The chatter in the room died instantly. Every head whipped from me back to Chloe. She looked like she'd been physically struck. She stumbled back a step, grabbing the podium for support. "W-why?" she stammered, tears streaming down her face. "There is no why," I said. "It's just not appropriate." "What's not appropriate? What?! Tell me what's not appropriate!" she suddenly shrieked. "First, we're just classmates who met three weeks ago. When you asked me, I didn't even remember your name. Why would I lend a brand-new condo to a stranger? Second, you said it's for your sick father. That makes it even more impossible. Not even my closest relatives would ask for something like that." "But—" "That's enough!" The RA cut us off. "You two can discuss this privately. Chloe, please take your seat." Chloe didn't move. After a long moment, she covered her face with her hands and ran out of the lecture hall. It was so messed up. It was like I was the one who had bullied her and gone back on my word. Thankfully, the mixer ended soon after. I wasn't in the mood to stick around anyway. Back in the dorm, I got a call from the RA. She didn't say much, just asked for my side of the story. After I hung up, my roommates held up their phones. "Dude," Mark said. "You're getting put on blast." It was a new post on the university's YikYak. A freshly made anonymous account was telling a story about being a freshman who was manipulated by a male classmate. The post claimed this guy had been hitting on her since orientation, bragging about how his family was local and had money and property. He allegedly said if she'd be his girlfriend, he'd do anything for her. So she asked if he could help rent a cheap place near the hospital for her sick father. And that's when he supposedly turned on her and showed his true colors. The post ended with a long, flowery paragraph about her own resilience. Nothing in the post explicitly connected to me. "Keep scrolling," Sam said. "Check the replies." I scrolled down. Another anonymous user had replied: "OMG are you talking about Liam from the English department?" The original poster replied with a smirking emoji. Another reply: "I heard the English dept mixer got shut down early tonight bc of some drama with a guy named Liam." The OP replied: "Pls don't spread this around." All the accounts were brand new. A blind man could see it was a coordinated attack. I screenshotted everything and sent it to my RA, telling her I was going to file a report with campus police for harassment. She called me back immediately, telling me not to be impulsive and that she would handle it. Half an hour later, the YikYak post was gone. The RA then sent a message to our class GroupMe: "Regarding the small incident at tonight's event, students are reminded not to create, fabricate, or spread false information. We must uphold the image of our class and the integrity of our school. We have four years together, and there will be plenty of opportunities to help one another. Is that understood?" A bunch of people replied with "Got it." I sent one too. The moment my message went through, a voice memo from Chloe popped up in the chat. Her voice was raw and hoarse. "Liam, what did I ever do to you? Do you want me to die? What's so wrong with me just wanting to get an education? Do people who need help just deserve to be kicked to the curb? Yes, you have a condo, you have money, you can look down on people. But what rule did I break for you to treat me like this? I'm done. I'm not going to school here anymore. I'm dropping out tomorrow, then you'll be happy. My whole family can starve and die for all you care, then you'll be satisfied, right?" Every word was dripping with rage, but a rage that made no sense. The RA replied: "Chloe, the class group chat is not the place for emotional outbursts. If you have a grievance, you can come talk to me. If you have proof that someone has harmed you, the school and I will ensure that justice is served. At the same time, Liam, please write up a formal statement of what you know and submit it to me." Great. The RA was going for the "blame both sides" approach to smooth things over. I typed directly into the group chat: "Okay, RA. What I know is very simple and can be said in a few sentences. First, I do not know Chloe, nor have I ever paid any attention to her. I didn't remember her name from the introductions. Second, she approached me, gave me chocolate, and asked me to lunch. I went to the dining hall specifically to return the chocolate, which my roommates can confirm. Third, at the dining hall, she said she had something important to discuss, which is the only reason I sat with her. She then told me about her dad and asked to use my family's condo. I felt it was inappropriate then, for the same reasons I stated in the lecture hall tonight. Everything after that was her posting about me on YikYak. That is all I know." The RA replied: "Okay, that's enough. I will investigate the situation." It was clear she didn't fully believe me. But my roommates had my back. One by one, they replied in the chat, confirming that I had planned to return the chocolate from the start, and that none of us in the room could remember her name. A few other classmates who weren't in my dorm private messaged me to offer their support. "But you agreed!" Chloe typed. "You agreed, so you can't go back on your word! Are you even a decent human being if you go back on your word?" Then she dropped a file into the chat. An audio file. The second it started playing, I recognized the background noise of the dining hall. She had recorded our conversation. It wasn't a long clip. I hadn't said much. When it got to the end, to the part where I said, "Look, it's my parents' place. I'd have to ask them. I'll let you know," a strange sense of calm washed over me. She was unhinged, but at least she hadn't edited the recording. Sure enough, a few moments later, the chat filled with confused messages. "Did I hear that right? Doesn't that sound like he was saying no?" "Yeah, that's what I heard too. I thought I was the only one." "He literally said it's his parents' place and he can't make the decision. There's no way his parents would agree to lend a new condo to a sick stranger they've never met." The chat was blowing up. The RA quickly tried to shut it down: "Everyone stop talking. Chloe, what was the point of you posting that file?" Chloe's reply, another voice memo, came a minute later: "Everyone listen to it. I have nothing left to say. He agreed in his own words, and then he took it back. I just want to ask, are all guys like this? This is terrifying. Is anyone still going to defend him now? Can you people not see the difference between right and wrong?" The chat filled with question marks. Chloe: "What do you mean? How can you possibly hear that as a rejection? He said he would ask his parents for their permission! That's not a rejection! Who uses their parents as an excuse to say no? Are you guys deaf, or just stupid?" The question marks stopped. They were replaced by streams of "LMAO" and "Bruh." Chloe: "What are you laughing at? Stop laughing! I'm telling you, it was an agreement. I have the final say on what it means." "This is pointless. I'm going to bed," I typed, then shut my phone off and tossed it on my bed. My roommate Sam, on the bunk next to mine, said, "Before I left for college, my parents told me over and over that you meet all kinds of people out in the world. Good people, crazy people... now I finally get it." Only Mark was still staring at his phone. After a moment, he frowned. "Yo, I think our RA is kind of biased here." I grabbed my phone again. The RA had posted a new message: "This discussion is over. Everyone stop. What time is it? Don't you have class tomorrow? Remember, you are all adults now. You need to communicate clearly to avoid misunderstandings. Serious consequences will be traced back to their source." A surge of anger shot through me. I started typing a long, furious reply, my thumbs flying across the screen. Just as I was about to hit send, a hand clamped down on my arm.
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