Maybe that's where she'd gotten her unwavering faith in herself. Her mom didn't blink an eye assuming she'd shot herself in the foot again. "I'm just a little bored, that's all."

"Well, a little boredom is good for the soul."

"Really?"

"I don't know. It's just something people say in polite conversations."

Gwen considered if she'd ever heard that boredom was good for the soul. There were lots of things reported to make humans better, usually painful things that were rarely worth the suffering of. "Who says that?"

"Well, I just did, aren't you listening? Missy might be right."

"Missy?" Gwen felt her heart rate kick up. "Did you talk to Missy?"

"Of course. She called, let's see... Wednesday. And then, yes, Friday."

"Twice?"

"Twice this week. What's going on, Gwen?"

"Well, I just..." Her daughter hadn't bothered to call her then betrayed her by calling her grandmother instead. And Gwen's own mother had gone behind her back by, well, talking.

"She's just fine, Gwennie. If anything was wrong you'd know about it."

"I would?"

"A young woman with a problem needs her mother just as much as a child does."

Gwen tried to digest that over her hurt. "So, her completely ignoring me is a good sign?"

"An excellent one."

But, that meant... god, she must be really screwed up. She'd been so bored and lonely she'd called her mother. "You didn't tell her I was--"

"Of course not. And Steve won't know either. Don't worry. I drop by the house every day, check your messages, although there really aren't any, and pick up the mail."

"Thanks. Hey, Mom, do you think Missy's called Steve?"

"Oh, honey, fathers and daughters are simpler, that's all."

Gwen considered that she'd never had the chance to figure that out, but it seemed true. It certainly was true that mothers and daughters weren't simple. Just when she thought she had a handle on her own...

"Honey, it's Bunco day, so I'm gonna run. Tina's picking me up in an hour, and I still need to get on my game shirt."

Gwen remembered the Bunco club's t-shirts were rhinestoned. She was pretty sure she'd been given one. It was probably shoved it into the back of a dresser drawer, mercifully never seeing the light of day. Even Ellen was in danger of not being able to pull off a shirt that shiny, and her mother could manage to make anything look tame by comparison. "Bye, Mom." She hung up and knew she couldn't sit another minute in the tiny dorm room. On the lower floors lurked Mranda who could make hello sound snarky, but down the hall a giant television beckoned, and she'd packed one movie in her daughter's college-bound car.

If she'd owned her own TV, she would have hidden in her room for the viewing, but luckily she found the floor's lounge deserted. It had taken her a couple of tries to work the huge television that Guy seemed born to operate, but when the sound poured out from beside and behind her, it was worth the effort, and it was Missy's favorite. For several years the retelling of Cinderella with Whoopee Goldberg as the queen and Whitney Houston as the fairy godmother had riveted her girl. Gwen estimated she'd sat through it at least twice a month, and the rest of the time the music played in the background while she ironed or put together the school newsletter for the P.T.A.

She knew, through osmosis, every word of every song. She couldn't hit the Whitney high notes, but then not even Whitney could after Bobbie left her alone at forty. But since women never learned, there was poor Cinderella singing her heart out, lookin' for love in the market place. The prince, disguised as a regular guy, belted it out on the other side of every fruit and vegetable display. Would they ever meet? Over the crescendo of the duet, Gwen thought she heard the ding of the elevator doors followed by the distinct sound of an animal herd tramping down the hall. She grabbed for the remote but not quickly enough. They were right behind her.

She turned, more embarrassed than she would have been if she'd been caught watching Oprah. She was a grown woman watching a fairytale that was just shy of being animated, and there were three guys who were Belmar-football-accessorized in jerseys, hats, and travel mugs. Sunday was probably a big day for football. They stared at her like she'd landed on their planet from outer space. She waved. "Venus."

The largest of the bunch tipped his hat. "Mrs. Venus, I'm Jason. I was a lineman for the Central High School Cougars."

If she was supposed to identify herself based on the position she'd played in high school, she'd have to say Phillipsburg High good girl, which was sort of a non-position really. "I'm not actually Mrs. Venus."

"Ms. Venus." He pointed at the other two, who were his size if they were combined. "That's Bryan, Cougar quarterback and Hayden."

She took a second to register the names. It wasn't like she'd met very many dorm residents. Mostly they ignored her like they would any other visiting mom. Jason looked like a giant farm boy, solid in probably every sense of the word, giant Jason. Former quarterback Bryan was almost too handsome and had a slick, charming smile that would serve him well in business school, business Bryan.

The third boy, Hayden, couldn't have been a football player even if he'd attended an all-girls high school. He had a tall, spindly build but real sincerity when he shook her hand, heartfelt Hayden.

"I kept the stats." Hayden looked reluctant to interrupt her movie. "We didn't know anybody would be here. The floor's pretty much uninhabited."

"It mostly is." She cringed as the Cinderella/Prince duet cranked up. They'd finally found each other amid the hanging poultry, but she pointed the remote and turned the TV off. "You go right ahead. I was just killing time."

Business Bryan, rounded the sectional and gave her a grin that would have made any teacher give the boy an A. "Now, it hurts me to hear you're killin' time on a beautiful game day."

"I'm not much of a football fan, sorry."

"You've never watched with real fans."

Giant Jason stretched out in one of the club chairs, most of the upholstery disappearing beneath him. "It's a different game when you've got fans."

Gwen handed Bryan the remote and watched him then Hayden take their seats. They seemed to have designated places, and she was glad her spot on the end didn't interfere with their routine. Like chefs in the kitchen, she supposed fans had their places. "Who's playing?"

Jason put his hand to his chest and looked a little like some friendly bear with his paw up. "Belmar and Oregon State." He took a gulp from a travel mug that Gwen suspected didn't hold anything hot.

She considered that she might have some universal responsibility for speaking out against underage drinking, but they were legal adults if not legal drinkers, and she was only a college student not the dorm's P.T.A. president. "Is the game here?"

The channel surfing stopped, and they all stared at her.

"Oh, of course not. You'd all be at the game, wouldn't you?"

"Damn straight," Jason answered.

"Language." Bryan smiled at her.

Hayden shook his head. "They'll try their best, but the competitive spirit will, sooner or later, move them to profanity."

"Goddamn! Are they gonna sack Williams all season? What the hell were they doing? The left tackle didn't hold the fucking line!" She still couldn't get over it. The quarterback needed some protection, and where were the damn blockers?

"Venus, you called that one." Jason high-fived her. "Dominico needs to get a set of balls by the next game or Belmar's gonna lose another one."

Hayden held the remote, finger poised on the play button. "Tell me when you're ready."

Gwen pointed toward the TV but felt the Belmar travel mug tip, splashing the inside of her wrist. She licked it, missed once, then got it. She didn't know what Red Bull was, but she couldn't even taste the vodka in it. And the game had been so exciting. Belmar had nearly won and then they'd all watched Cinderella and still she wasn't even tired. She ought to go to bed. It was a school night, but the boys were finally getting the hang of the lyrics. "Okay, this time Jason gets to sing the prince's solo in the ballroom."

There was protesting from Bryan, but she needed to be firm or there'd be a fight. "Jason has a bigger range than you do, Bryan. But you are outstanding in the garden scene. I think I speak for us all when I say the duet with Hayden was really something."

"Alright... and hit it." She pointed at Hayden, and when the music started, she cued Jason. He might be a two-hundred pounder but that boy could sing like an angel.

She squinted at her watch but could barely see it. She wasn't sure if the lounge lights hadn't kept up with the dark outside, or her eyelids hadn't kept up with her eyeballs and she was under-blinking.

"You left Belmar twenty years ago..." Hayden's voice sounded like a narrator on a public television program, a program about something bad like the break-up of Pangaea.

Pangaea? Where in the hell had that come from? She blinked a couple of times to try and clear her sight. "Pangaea was the first, you know, big land thing, right?"

Hayden nodded and Jason seemed to try and get her back on track. "And you left after Max left you and then you married Steve, who also left you?"

"Something like that." Jeeze that didn't sound like much fun for her.

"Steve did seem like the right one." Hayden was definitely tracking the conversation better than she was. They all were. "I think it's a choice any number of women would make. Steve is the kind of guy I'd want my sister to marry."

"Max sounds like a cool guy, though." Bryan, with his charm, would side with an Alpha male. "What guy doesn't want to get out there and travel and make something of himself before he ends up married?"

"Some guys never settle down." Hayden seemed ready to quote statistics but stopped himself.

Jason nodded. "He might be that guy still going after girls when he's old and has hair coming out his ears."

Gwen pictured Max in the atrium. In shape. In control. She hated to admit it, but..."he looks great."

Jason shook his head. "But the pee picture. Not cool."

She sighed. Not cool and not deserved, well, at least not in recent history.

"Kinda funny..." Bryan started to go on like an impressed high school boy.

"Not cool." Jason wiggled his eyebrows.

"Payback then." Bryan high-fived Jason.

Gwen felt she'd missed something. They'd been talking about why she was there and then the photo and then, "what?"

"Payback." Bryan shrugged like it was a given. "Guy like that's just pushin' it. You let him, and he's gonna think he's some badass. You gotta be one up on him."

Jason flexed his enormous shoulders. "We could find him and--"

It was sweet to see a farm boy try for mafia tough. "No, I don't think so. I think I should just ignore it. Ignore him and--"

Bryan jumped up. "Take the picture down. Just rip it right down."

Jason pointed at him. "Put something up, something that says game on."

"Game on!" All three guys said it together.

She tried to clear her head with a shake, but it just buzzed more. "I don't think so. I'm not really a game on kind of gal. I mean I get the screw you message, but I'm not sure if that's the--"

"That's it, classic. Flip him the bird, Venus. Just the bird." Bryan demonstrated, and it had a smooth quality to it as if he'd had lots of practice.

Before she could talk them out of it, they gathered around her, and flipped open their cell phones, arguing over who would take the winning shot. Gwen didn't want to disappoint them since they just taught her everything she knew about football and entertained her through what would have been a long, lonely Sunday.

Hayden motioned for her to move. "Use the couch as the backdrop and don't get your face in the shot."

Jason, eyeing the scene with great seriousness, nodded in agreement. "We're bein' subtle here."

She felt the peer pressure and tried to stick her middle finger up while centering the couch cushion behind it. She wasn't sure she had it right, but the place lit up like the paparazzi had arrived.

Hayden studied his phone. "Nah, it's too generic."

"Generic?" Gwen looked at the display as he turned it toward her.

"Hayden's minoring in art." Bryan rolled his eyes and gave a little wave. "Hello!"

"Jason, take off your headband." Hayden took it and shook it out to reveal the Belmar logo. He draped it over Gwen's head, and she tried to ignore the sweaty boy smell. He pulled it down until only her mouth was out. "Now put your lips right next to your hand, make the appropriate gesture, and say..."

Gwen puckered up.

"Game on!"

Gwen's Journal - September 5th, 1989 Monday College is so great. I knew school would be, but I also thought I'd be working so hard that there wouldn't be much else. The weird thing is you don't go to school as much as you do in high school. Most of my classes are only Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. On Tuesday and Thursday I'm done at 1:00, and even with work-study in the cafeteria a couple of hours, I'm still done way before I ever got done in high school and that's not even counting the Dairy Haven until 9:00.

And the guys. Some of them are different than anyone I knew before. Well, one of them is.

Gwen's Life - The evening before...

"Hope you're hungry." Max pulled out of the dorm parking lot and turned toward town.

She nodded, didn't even try to smile. Her mouth was dry from nerves, and she worried that her lips would stick to her teeth. It didn't help that she didn't have a clue where they were going. She had enough trouble picking clothes out, but it was impossible when dinner could be pizza or something nice. She'd even been prepared to walk. She hadn't known Max had a car, a really nice Toyota Corolla his parents probably handed down to him. Her mom once tried to give her some hand-me-down bras, but they'd all been too big. Some people were so lucky.

"The food will be good, but, heads up, dessert will suck."

"Oh, okay." She thought they'd keep heading toward town, but Max turned into the residential area near campus where the streets were all named for things like trees or maybe just plants in general. Driving down Eucalyptus, Max stopped in front of a beautiful brick house big enough to be a fraternity. It even had a sign on the front lawn, an old brass plaque.