Matt had read somewhere that there were no friends like the ones from freshman year, and it was true. They’d all resided in Rubin Hall, known unofficially as the “poor kids’ dorm.” It was a converted hotel from the 1960s. Famous for its squalor and lack of air-conditioning. You only put Rubin on your dorm-selection list if you had to. It was the lowest-cost option for housing, and the university concentrated its scholarship kids there. During the first week of freshman year there was a heat wave, so Matt and the other tenants on his floor had a slumber party in the common area, the only space with air-conditioning. It was there he’d met what became his college family. He cast his eyes around the room.
Kala stood, looking gorgeous and fashionable even after staying up all night. She was in the Tisch drama school and had come a long way since that first year at Rubin. Back then her hair had been several shades too blond and her trailer park drawl too thick. They’d been fast friends—a point of contention with Jane—partly because of their love of old television shows and movies, partly because Matt never judged Kala’s rural Oklahoma roots. After all, his family had been run out of small-town Nebraska.
Kala had been the first to approach Matt after the documentary broke and everyone learned about his secret—his incarcerated brother and disgraced family. Kala confided that her father was in prison. At the time, she hadn’t said for what. But as they became closer, Matt learned it was for abusing Kala’s mother. And Matt sensed the abuse hadn’t stopped with mom.
Kala hugged him, holding him a long while. She whispered in his ear, “You’ve always been there for me, and I’ll always be there for you. I love you.”
He felt his eyes filling with tears.
Woo-jin was there as well. At six seven, he was hard to miss. He crouched over for an awkward hug. Woo-jin was from South Korea and on a basketball scholarship. He was a quiet kid, embarrassed by his heavy accent. When Woo-jin was struggling with classes, Matt had tutored him.
He next saw Sofia. She was wearing her green military jacket, which suited her militant personality. No cause was too trivial for Sofia. She approached relationships with the same fire and passion. She’d been in love no less than six times freshman year, with Matt talking her down from every breakup. Unsurprisingly, she looked like she’d taken the news the hardest. Her eye makeup was raccooned from tears, her long auburn hair a mess. Sofia’s body shuddered when she hugged him. It caused Matt’s to shudder as well.
Curtis was next. He was the brains of the group. He’d won the National Spelling Bee at nine, the second Black kid to ever win the competition, the first from the atrocious Mississippi public school system. He had a near perfect SAT score and been offered scholarships from every Ivy. He’d accepted NYU not for academic reasons, but because it was the only school that had a congregation of his small, obscure religious sect nearby. After classes all day, he attended services two hours every other night. He didn’t use alcohol, didn’t take drugs, didn’t swear, and didn’t even drink caffeine. And he’d struggled with the loose ways of NYU. He and Matt had long talks late at night about religion and Curtis’s battles with temptation. Matt had told him that he needed to have faith in his faith.
“I’m praying for you, my friend,” Curtis said as he pulled him into a hug.
“I know you are,” Matt said, his voice breaking. “I think I need it.”
The only one missing was Ganesh. He was always the loner of the group. In his contradictory way, he loved a crowd but kept everyone at a distance.
Matt surveyed this group of people he loved. On the exterior, each was objectively attractive. He could almost imagine them in a remake of Felicity （a reference only Kala would get）， good-looking NYU students out to take on the world. But like life, each was more complicated. Ganesh called their group the “Island of Misfit Toys.” Sofia chided him, since the reference was from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which she thought was racist and homophobic for reasons Matt couldn’t comprehend.
At last, Matt said to the group, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
There was a chorus of we’re here for you, whatever you need, and the like.
“If you don’t mind, I’d love to get a shower and some rest.…”
The group fumbled around, collecting their things. They had another procession of hugs at the door.
Jane hung back. After the last mourner departed, she said, “Where have you been? I was worried. I called everywhere, and you weren’t answering your phone and Ganesh ignored my texts and—”