That night I poured a small measure of wine from the cheap bottle I kept in my dorm room closet and sat drinking it in silence on my bed, mindlessly scrolling through my feeds.
“Earth to Amber," Janis snapped her fingers. “Your phone's going off. Can you silence that? This paper is melting my brain."
“I thought your paper didn't matter," I said teasingly, picking up my phone and sliding it to silent.
“I'm an i***t," Janis grumbled. “It matters."
“You're not an i***t," I chastised her. “No self-trash-talking, lady."
Janis made a tiny groan of despair and slumped back over her keyboard.
I looked at my phone. It was an email. From Professor Stone.
I gulped and opened it so quickly I almost fumbled and dropped the phone.
Dear Miss Brooks,
I understand you are planning on staying
