“Heavy,” I say. “Well, it’s not worth spoiling breakfast over.” Something from before clicks in my head. “Wait, did you say the PS2′s coming tomorrow?”
After breakfast, we take the bus back to campus and go our separate ways. Hash browns always put me to sleep, which more or less means I’m in the perfect mood to go to Portugese. Marcao and Miro can suck it. I hate this language and I don’t want to take it, but I can’t afford to drop it either; Mandarin scares me.
Class is boring but mercifully short; we’re out about ten minutes early due to the professor not really giving a shit about us. Suits me just fine. It’s late enough in the day that a bottle of pop is in order, so I make my way to the bookstore and grab my usual 1-liter of diet whatever’s cheap. I lean against the cool tile wall outside the bookstore and open the drink. No sooner do I have a mouthful of it than my cell phone starts to ring.
I have no idea what possessed Mom to sign me up for the cell service last month, though I have to admit that I greatly appreciate it. Having an always-available phone was very convenient, but the fear of having to pay for the minutes put a great deal of reluctance into actually taking as much advantage of it as some of my peer group. I rarely gave out the number, and I certainly wasn’t expecting a call from… wow. Unlisted. This seems important somehow. I press the green “answer” button on the chunky phone and hold it up to my ear. “Hello?”