Chapter 23: The Mixer

The department mixer was in the seminar room, with the desks pushed to the walls.

There was a cheese board that took two people to carry.

I was on my second wedge of brie when the dean tapped a microphone.

"We have a late addition to the program," the dean said.

Caleb walked up to the front with a laminated index card.

His bruise had faded to yellow, and he was wearing the gray shirt.

"Three minutes," the dean said. "I'm setting a timer."

"That's fine," Caleb said, and the microphone shrieked.

Everyone winced, including me.

"Sorry. I have a short speech." He held up the card.

"It's about a girl who chased me for ninety-nine days. I'm on day sixty-six of mine."

A few people laughed.

A few people turned to look at me, and I put down the brie.

"On day one," Caleb said, "I asked who was making all that noise."

He looked up.

"It was Sabrina. I've since heard the noise at close range."

He paused.

"I'd like it noted that the rest of you should be so lucky."

The room made a sound, half groan and half cheer.

"On day two, I told her to go look in a mirror.

"I've looked in one since. It was a bad mirror, because it had me in it."

Somebody whistled, and I covered my face.

"On day three, I said she should get her face fixed."

He folded the card in half.

"I'd like to say that if anyone touches one freckle on that face, I will ruin them academically."

The laughter was real this time, loud and warm.

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