Free Hold On Tight by J. Minter

knew that I’d done the right thing by not being upfront with him. My plan was to find a delicate way to ask him if he was drinking a new brand of bottled water, or was perhaps the subject of some college sleep test where they inject you withcoolness, but he didn’t need to know that’s what I was getting at. Of course, this was a goal made slightly less attainable by the continued presence of Margot.
    The three of us were walking across campus, in the fading warmth of afternoon, to have a late lunch at some diner in town. Mickey’s lecture was supposed to be starting in half an hour, and I was surprised by how many people seemed to be streaming toward it already.
    A somewhat androgynous guy-girl couple in black-rimmed glasses, paint-splattered white T-shirts and Carhartt work jackets were passing us, and as they did I caught a whiff of turpentine and smoke.
    â€œDon’t all these people look sort of the same?” I couldn’t help but ask.
    Margot laughed and tossed one of her braids over her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what art students look like in Vassarland.”
    As we came to the edge of campus, I saw a group of guys sitting under a tree. They were all wearing blazers and sweaters over collared shirts and nubby, faded brown shoes. They also emanated a distinctive smell.
    â€œAre those pipes they’re smoking?”
    â€œYeah,” Margot laughed. “Those guys are all Professor Connor’s advisees. He’s like this ancient, quasi-famous literary critic who teaches this postwar American lit class that is impossible to get into. They’re all really, really into being English majors.”
    â€œWow.”
    â€œThat’s what college is like—there are more options, and people are more creative. But basically it’s just as tribal as high school,” Ted said.
    â€œHuh,” I said. “So what tribe are you a part of?”
    Margot was holding Ted’s hand, and he was sort of stroking it. She laughed again, which was a good thing—I was really starting to like her laugh. “Oh, Ted’s not part of a tribe. He belongs to everybody.”
    Ted looked at me seriously. “That’s sort of true—I have a really diverse group of friends. But to be totally honest, from outside looking in, I think I probably fit a type, too.”
    Margot leaned in toward me and stage-whispered, “Ted is always
totally honest
, by the way.”
    â€œNo kidding,” I stage-whispered back.
    â€œI’m being serious, though,” Ted said, gratuitously. “Like, people are always calling me ‘do-gooder Ted,’ and I know what they mean whenthey say that. Like a bunch of Margot and my friends, I try to be in the world in a nondetrimental way, and I’d like to do some good for other people. So, that’s my tribe, I guess.”
    Yes, my brother does actually speak this way. Although it seems a lot less silly coming from a guy who has a girl like Margot stroking his arm.
    Soon we were sipping milk shakes and eating fries at a booth in an authentic old-fashioned diner. “It’s weird,” I said, “there are so many places in New York that just hurt themselves straining to look like this place. But you can tell they’ve just been doing the same old thing for like a quarter of a century or something.”
    And then, since things were feeling very familial, even with Margot there, I went ahead and asked. “Ted, man, tell me what’s changed in you. It’s like you’re the same, but different too.”
    â€œThat’s a tough question, J,” he said, furrowing up his brow and looking at me like he was about to explain the causes of third world poverty or something.
    â€œI just mean that I’m really into your scene up here. It seems like you have awesome friends. Big stuff is happening for you. It’s really nice to see that.” I paused for a moment, and then realizedthat my