Free The Sky Is Falling by Caroline Adderson

them.
    â€œThey bring speakers in too.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œSPND. That’s what they’re into. Education. And that’s why I joined. But education isn’t enough if you don’t do anything with it.”
    It occurred to me then that nothing I studied had any practical application whatsoever.
    Sonia: “We’ve got to do something. Right now.”
    The bus was nearly empty and, when we arrived, the campus seemed deserted too. The forested Endowment Lands cut the university off from the city, though in the residences and the frat houses, in the Pit Pub under the Student Union Building, life was undoubtedly going on. We saw scant evidence of it, however, as we walked past the glass wall of the Aquatic Centre; only a few swimmers were clocking laps. The SUB itself felt evacuated, the cafeteria closed, the cookie kiosk too, the couches mostly empty with barely a handful of people milling around before the movie started.
    The lobby was down a set of stairs. More people were there, maybe twenty, all of whom Sonia seemed to know well enough to embrace. We bought our tickets from a girl she introduced as Ruth. “This is Jane, my housemate.”
    Ruth wore a fringed paisley scarf like a sloppy bandage around her neck. Her long blond hair was divided evenly by the part and her eyes were a very pale blue. Sonia took her ticket and wandered off to talk to someone else. Ruth held on to mine. “You live in Trutch house?” she asked.
    â€œYes.”
    The way she looked at me, so intently, I felt washed in blue light. “But I’ve never seen you at anything.”
    â€œHere I am.”
    â€œI tried to get in there.”
    â€œIn the house?”
    â€œYeah,” she said.
    â€œMove in, you mean?”
    She nodded. I only remembered the man with the violin, not the other names on the interview sheet. Yet Belinda had told me I was the only woman to apply. She’d said they needed “gender balance” and that was what I thought she meant. “Are you vegetarian?” I asked Ruth.
    â€œYes!” She sighed. “It must be great living with Pete and Dieter. They’re so committed. Dieter’s probably going to Nicaragua next summer. Are you in NAG!?”
    â€œIn what?” I said.
    â€œNon-violent Action Group! I thought everyone who lived there was.”
    An older couple approached the counter and Ruth finally handed over my ticket. Sonia was standing with her back to me, an arm around a much taller person’s waist. I bought popcorn and a Coke and waited in the corner until the theatre doors opened and people started filing in. Sonia looked around then, smiling when she saw me.
    We sat at the very back, near the door. “That girl Ruth?” I said, holding out the popcorn.
    Sonia refused, wrinkling her nose. “Ruth’s in SPND,” she said. “She’s really nice.”
    â€œShe wanted my room.”
    â€œI know. I felt bad when she didn’t get in. It’s horrible rejecting people.”
    â€œWhy didn’t she?”
    â€œA couple of reasons. Well, one. No, I can tell you. Two. We thought she was using it as a way to get into the group. She really wants to be a Nagger. Afterward, I phoned her and told her she should get some people together. And make a new group. Like we did.” She pulled off her toque and tossed it on the empty seat in front of her. Staticky feelers of hair reached toward the light. “She cried. I felt terrible.”
    â€œWhat was the other reason?”
    Sonia glanced around before answering. “Belinda was worried about Pete. He sleeps around.”
    â€œReally?” I said. Wasn’t he doing it enough with Belinda? It seemed I was always trying to shut out their groans and laughter. If I was studying or writing a letter to my parents, I’d screw toilet tissue into my ears. If I was trying to sleep, I’d muffle them with my pillow. Yet in the morning, crossing