A/N: This is the last chapter of freshman year. They're moving on up!

Freshman Year, End of Spring Semester

Chapter 11: Under the Deep Aquarium Sea

"Kevin, guess what?" Arnold bounded through their open door and flopped down across Kevin's bed.

"Oh hey, Arn." Kevin grinned as looked up from his laptop, where he should've been studying for finals but was thoroughly burnt out and instead watching The Big Bang Theory. "You're not gonna believe this; I just found out—"

"Tell me later. Guess what? Guess what? We're going to a party!"

"What's this we you're talking about?" Kevin asked. "I can't go to a party; I have to study."

"You're watching a TV show, Kev."

"Exactly, which means I have to study tonight. Have you seen this, by the way? It's hilarious; we should start watching it together."

"Really? I'm not much of a fan—hey, don't change the subject! You've got plenty of time to study for finals. Come to the party tonight, and then cram the rest of the week like everyone else."

Kevin sighed. "I don't feel comfortable with the whole party scene," he said.

"Why not? Weren't you the most popular kid in high school? I bet you went to parties all the time!"

"Well, yeah, but my school was full of Mormons. A party for us meant hanging out under close parental supervision watching the latest Pixar movie. I can't go to a college party; there'll be debauchery there."

Arnold couldn't help himself. He started laughing, and Kevin scowled. "What's so funny?" he said defensively.

"Two years in Uganda, one year in college, and you're still the same old Kevin," he explained. "It won't be bad, I promise. It's not like we're going to some crazy frat party; this is just a guy in my comp class and his roommates having an end-of-the-year bash at their house. Come on, no one's ever invited me to a party before. Connor's working again this evening, and I don't wanna go by myself. Well, I won't be by myself; Naba's taking the train up, but I want you there, too! Please?"

Kevin took one look at Arnold's hopeful expression and felt his resolve melt away. Still, he couldn't give in that easily. "You know, the last time you had an idea like this, I got drunk and stormed the stage at a gay bar," he said.

Arnold laughed. "Oh, man, I wish I had filmed that." Upon seeing Kevin's unamused glare, he quickly added, "Nothing like that's gonna happen tonight. Just be more careful. And I'll keep an eye on you, I promise."

Damn it, there was no way Kevin could say no to those puppy-dog eyes. "Fine," he gave in. "But we're not staying the whole time. You're gonna make me fail all my exams, you know that?"

"Please, you couldn't fail if you tried," Arnold laughed. "This is gonna be so awesome! Our first college party. How come we waited until the end of the year to go to our first college party? Oh well, plenty more next year!" He bounced up and down in excitement. "I'm already stoked for next year, are you? It's gonna be great; you and me, roomies again, taking on our sophomore year—"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Kevin cut him off. "We can't live together next year."

Arnold did a double-take, and then laughed. "Haha, good one," he said. When Kevin didn't join in, he abruptly panicked. "Wait, are you serious? Oh, man, you're sick of me, I knew it!"

"What? No!" Kevin quickly corrected him. "It's not that at all. I just found out I'm gonna be an RA next year!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, isn't it great? But they're not allowed to have roommates."

"I didn't know you auditioned for RA."

"Applied, not auditioned. And I wasn't sure if I'd be selected, so I didn't want to tell anyone. Otherwise they would have asked if I got it, and I would've had to tell them no, and—well, you know how that goes."

Arnold beamed. "Well, you did get it, so that's awesome!" he said, and then his smile disappeared. "But who am I gonna live with?"

"You can live with Connor," Kevin replied. "I don't think he's rooming with anyone specific."

As if on cue, Connor knocked on the door and swung it open without an invitation, a wide grin plastered across his face. "O-M-gosh, you guys, I'm gonna be an RA!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Kevin looked up in alarm. "Wait, no, I'm gonna be an RA."

"We're both RAs!"

"But how's that possible?" Kevin challenged without thinking. "How are you an RA?"

"I know, right? I can't even—wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Connor narrowed his eyes. "I have more leadership experience than you. I ran a mission for two years; you built a dog park in a town that already has several."

Arnold, meanwhile, was looking between the two with terror in his eyes. "WHO THE HECK AM I GONNA LIVE WITH?!" he shrieked.

"Arnold, calm down, it'll be okay," Kevin said. "You can always live with a random person. Connor did that and it worked out. He barely even saw the guy."

"Yeah, it's been great," Connor deadpanned. "It's not like I ever suspected Blake had a hit list at all."

"Oh man, I don't want to live with an assassin!" Arnold wailed.

"You're not gonna live with an assassin. Connor's exaggerating, and his bad experience isn't the norm, I promise." Kevin reassured him. Then he looked up at Connor and scowled. "Honestly, Arnold; you can't trust him. He thought he was king of our mission, and now he wants to be king of the dorms as well."

"They're called residence halls," Connor replied. "And come on, being an RA means free housing. I can't believe you ever thought I wouldn't apply."

"Oh yeah? Is that the only reason you did it?"

"Of course not. It's just…well, most of the reason."

"Man, this isn't fair," Arnold sighed, burying his face in Kevin's pillow. "You guys are getting fancy leadership positions, and I don't even have a roommate or a major."

"Oh, don't worry about any of that," Connor said. "The hall staff will find a roommate for you, and you can figure out your major next semester! Plenty of students don't choose one until their sophomore year. Actually, did you know that a lot of colleges aren't using the term undecided anymore? They're calling them deciding students to get rid of the negative connotation, and I think that's wonderful, don't you?"

"Seriously?" Kevin's eyebrows shot up. "That doesn't make any sense. Undecided and still deciding basically mean the same thing."

Connor glared at him. "Oh hello, I'm Kevin Price," he mocked in a poor imitation of Kevin's voice. "My major is sooo practical, and I don't care about anyone else's feelings at all. Well, you know what, Kevin? No one asked you."

Arnold's phone chimed, and he glanced down at the screen. "Naba's here," he said. "I'm gonna go meet her, and I don't want to hear any more arguing when I get back." He stepped out into the hallway, leaving Kevin and Connor inside.

"I don't sound like that," Kevin snapped. He stood up and returned his laptop to its usual place on his desk, then spun back around and added, "Oh, and by the way? Ogden did not have several dog parks. They had two. Now I suppose you could say they have several, but only because I built one. And mine has an obstacle course, so there."

An Hour Later

"You're not wearing your party clothes?" Kevin asked as he started up his blue '98 Honda Civic.

"Nah, those are for going out. This is a casual party."

Kevin chuckled, craning his neck as he backed out of the parking space.

Living with Kevin in America had taught Arnold quite a bit about his friend. During their mission, the two had grown accustomed to each other's quirks. Kevin knew that Arnold loved the smell of vanilla, hated folding laundry, and oftentimes naturally woke up with the sun, while Arnold learned that Kevin was freaked out by both clowns and grasshoppers, spent more time on his hair than anyone else Arnold knew, and absolutely had to have at least 8 hours of sleep or else he'd be grumpy and sluggish the next morning.

While he'd thought he had Kevin figured out, Arnold quickly realized upon moving into the residence halls that there was a lot he'd never had the chance to learn about his friend in Uganda. For example, he got cold easily, his favorite food was pizza, he had an embarrassingly large amount of Disney soundtracks and Kelly Clarkson albums in his iTunes folder, and he kept his childhood stuffed animal, an otter named Oliver, in a box under his bed that he took out to sleep with whenever he was feeling upset. The karaoke incident with the General aside, he also hated singing (despite having a pretty good voice) unless he was at church or driving, so when he pulled onto the street and immediately began singing along with Taylor Swift on the radio, Arnold thought nothing of it and stared glumly out the window.

He was happy for Kevin; really, he was. Kevin clearly thought being an RA was a big deal, and he was excited for the opportunity. But still, Arnold couldn't help but be a little sad as well, even if it was a tad selfish. Their whole friendship was built around living together and being forced to spend time with each other. What would happen now that they were no longer practically glued at the hip? Would they drift apart? Arnold could totally see that happening. Kevin would get caught up in his schoolwork and RA duties, and then he'd only hang out with the other RAs or people he saw in class—

Wait a minute. "Hey Kevin, we should take a class together next semester!"

"Cause darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream—we've already registered, remember? And I've only got a couple gen eds left, buddy."

"Then let's take one of those! We can still make changes, right? We haven't had a class together yet; we've gotta do this."

"Oh, you definitely should!" Naba added. "You could study together. That would help Arnold so much; he needs to study more."

"Hey, I'm doing okay," Arnold protested. "Just because I don't have a 4.0 like Kevin and Connor doesn't mean I'm not doing a good job."

"Connor has a 3.6 right now," Kevin said. "He's already somehow got the same position as me; let's not pretend we have the same GPA, too."

"Still better than my GPA," Arnold said. "What's your deal, anyway? It's not like you lost the RA job when Connor got it."

Kevin sighed. "I know that," he said. "I'm just cranky because my physics class is kicking my butt, and I probably won't even have a 4.0 after I'm finished with this final. It shouldn't be this hard, but there's just something about his tests that I don't get. I've never gotten a B in my life; how the heck am I supposed to get into my top med school with a damn B?"

"Oh, Kevin," Naba said. "Do not worry about that; a B is still very good."

"Yeah," Arnold said. "NYU took you once; they'll do it again no matter what your grades are!"

"Johns Hopkins," Kevin muttered. "And that's not how it works. They accepted me for undergrad. Medical school's a completely different story."

"It will be okay," Naba reassured him. "You haven't even taken the final yet; I think you'll do great. And even if you don't, I am sure there are people who got into your fancy school with Bs."

"Maybe." With his brow furrowed, Kevin pulled up alongside the curb at the address Arnold gave him, and Arnold couldn't help but wonder if his grades were the only reason Kevin was upset.

Everything Kevin said was true, really. He was stressed beyond belief about this physics final, and the thought of losing his perfect academic record devastated him. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn't actually what he was focusing on at the moment.

As the three of them got out of the car and headed toward the house, however, he knew there was no way he could divulge any more information. How could he possibly explain that, as much as he loved Connor (no, he told himself, don't use the word love), every time he was around the former district leader he thought about how Connor was dating other people and probably didn't even think about that night anymore? How he was hoping that being an RA would take his mind off all this, but now that probably wouldn't happen because Connor would be there as well?

Naturally, he wasn't telling Naba and Arnold any of that. He wondered if Naba sensed his stress, though, because as they entered the house, she said, "Do not worry about your exam tonight Kevin. You're going to be an RA; you have to celebrate!"

"Yeah!" Arnold added. "Even though I'm gonna miss living with you. And I bet you'll miss living with me too, right?"

"Sure, pal. Though I won't miss your snoring," Kevin teased.

"Oh yeah? Well then, I won't miss your snoring! Or your teeth grinding, or your constant sleep babbling."

"It's not constant," Kevin protested. "I only talk in my sleep sometimes."

"Well that's some times too many, buddy. You know how many times you've woken me up? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I could actually understand what the heck you were saying, but nope, never can."

Kevin laughed and then surveyed the room around them. It was typical of the houses surrounding the university that students snatched up for cheap rent: old and unkempt with stained, threadbare carpets and secondhand furniture. The only exception to these sparse surroundings was an elaborate, ten-gallon aquarium in the living room.

"Oh look, Kev, wine coolers!" Arnold said as he headed into the kitchen. "I think those are sweet, like long islands! Here, want one?"

"Definitely not," Kevin said adamantly. "My past experiences with alcohol haven't exactly been great, remember? Is there Sprite in there?"

"Suit yourself," Arnold said, handing him a plastic cup filled with soda and then grabbing a peach Seagrams for himself. "Oooh, karaoke! This is the best party ever! He took off toward the karaoke machine set up on the back deck, leaving Kevin alone in entryway separating the kitchen and living room.

"Brownie?" Kevin looked over to see a student with bloodshot eyes standing by the counter and holding out a tray.

"No thank you," Kevin replied.

"You sure? It's Grandma's recipe, if you know what I mean," he said, waggling an eyebrow suggestively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kevin asked. "Is your grandma a baker or something?"

"Oh, yeah," Red-Eyes laughed. "Best baker in the world, keeps everyone coming back for more. C'mon, try a bite."

Well, they did look and smell delicious. Kevin tentatively reached over and plucked one off the top of the stack.

"Oh wow," Kevin said once he'd bitten into the chocolatey goodness. "These really are amazing."

"Told you," Red-Eyes said, smirking and turning away. "Have fun."

Kevin watched him go with a frown on his face. Well, that was odd. Suddenly, his mind flashed way, way back to fifth grade DARE class, when the officer told them people sometimes put marijuana in baked goods, and he looked down at the brownie in horror. But wait, these tasted normal. If there was weed in them, wouldn't they like plants or something? Red-Eyes was probably just trying to freak him out. Shrugging, he finished off the rest of the chewy treat.

"This is fun. Isn't this fun?" Arnold said to Naba as he happily finished off his wine cooler. The two had settled of a couple of lawn chairs and were now watching a pair of already-drunk girls slur through Sia's "Chandelier."

Naba took a sip of her beer and shrugged. "I suppose," she replied.

"Travis said he was gonna make pot brownies; how crazy is that?" Arnold rambled. "Man, I hope the cops don't show up. Speaking of which, you can't drink that, you're not twenty-one—" When Naba gave him a challenging look, he cleared his throat and moved on.

"So, uh, you excited to get your GED?" He asked. "You'll be ready to ace it before you know it!"

Naba smiled at his optimism. "I still have a lot of preparation to do," she said. "I have very little formal schooling, and no background in American history."

"You're still gonna do awesome," Arnold insisted. "And then you'll be here with us!"

Naba didn't respond to that, running her finger along the rim of beer with her lips pursed.

"What?" he pressed.

"Nothing," Naba said. "I said nothing."

"Well you're thinking something."

"It's just—I think that maybe I shouldn't come here," she said. "Perhaps it's better if I go to Salt Lake Community College instead. It's cheaper, and I can stay with your parents."

"Are you serious? No, Naba don't do that, it's a terrible idea. Don't you think so, Kevin?" He turned around, only to find that Kevin was nowhere in sight. "Bestie?" he called. "I thought he followed us out here. Hold on, Naba, I'm gonna go find Kev so he can agree that it's a terrible idea." He made his way back inside and quickly found Kevin standing in the kitchen.

"Hey, Kevin, you've gotta come help me talk to Naba. She's saying that—" Arnold stopped when he fully took in Kevin's appearance, standing over a tray of brownies with a treat in hand and a look that wasn't quite right in his eyes.

Oh no. Arnold deflated. I'm such a failure, I promised I'd look out for him! Wait, no, he decided. This one's on HIM, not me. Even Arnold knew to avoid brownies at a party. "Um, Kevin?" he began. "Please tell me you haven't been eating those this whole time."

"Arnold. Oh my god, Arn, these brownies," Kevin said, his speech slower than normal. "They're what's-his-face's grandma's recipe and they're fantaaabulous. This is my third. You need to eat one."

"Nah, buddy, I'm good," Arnold said. "And hey, don't eat that." Remembering that he was in the middle of argument with Naba, Arnold pulled the brownie out of Kevin's hands and led him over to the couch. "Sit here for a bit, okay? Just chill. Don't move until I get back." He figured he probably didn't have to worry too much about him disregarding that order, since Kevin was now sitting peacefully on the couch and staring at the coffee table with one of the most intense gazes Arnold had ever seen. Satisfied, Arnold headed back outside, tossing the loaded dessert in the garbage along the way.

"Kevin says your plan is dumb, and you should definitely go to Weber State," he told Naba.

She rolled her eyes. "He couldn't come out here to say that himself?" she asked.

"Um, no. He's busy."

Naba sighed. "I know you want me to join you boys here," she said. "But I don't think it's necessary. I want to become a nurse, and it would be much cheaper to do the RN program at SLCC."

"Well, yeah, but," Arnold racked his brain for anything that might change her mind. "What if you decide you want a bachelor's degree instead of an associate's? They don't have those there!"

"I don't think I'll need one of those. But if I do I can always transfer, or go back to school in the future."

"Naba, come on, what about—"

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Naba said. "I haven't even received my GED yet; I'm nowhere near ready for any college. Besides, this is a party, we are supposed to be having fun. Hold this, I need to use the restroom." She handed him her beer and stepped back inside. Shoulders slumped, Arnold figured he better check on Kevin.

It turns out Kevin hadn't quite done what Arnold asked, although he didn't stray far. He was now crouched directly in front of the aquarium staring at the fish, face and hands pressed against the glass.

"Kevin?" Arnold asked as he set the beer on the coffee table. "Whatcha doing?"

It took a bit before Kevin spoke. "I am one with marine biology," he responded quietly. "This must be how Ariel feels." Then he started humming the melody Ariel sings as her voice is snatched away, and Arnold decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Okay, buddy." He pulled him away from the tank and back toward the couch. "That's enough, you're scaring the fish. Here, watch some TV." An old episode of How It's Made began playing on screen when Arnold hit the power button on the remote, and Kevin leaned forward in utter fascination. Figuring that should preoccupy him for the rest of the evening, Arnold grabbed the beer and headed back in search of Naba.

He caught her just as she was exiting the bathroom. "Okay, I know you said you don't want to talk about it," he said, handing over the glass bottle. "But we kinda have to talk about it. Where's this coming from? A couple months ago you said you were totally coming here."

"That was before I did the research."

"No, see, you can't do this. First Kevin says he can't live with me anymore, then Connor can't live with me, either, and now you're not even—"

"It's not all about you!" Naba snapped. "Kevin and Connor both got great leadership opportunities; try feeling happy for them instead of sorry for yourself. And I'm not comfortable asking your parents for money that isn't necessary, how hard is that for you to understand?"

"They won't mind," Arnold said. It was true, actually. The Cunninghams were initially furious when they found out what was going on in Uganda. However, when Arnold returned home and they saw how much it had improved him, they grudgingly accepted it, they liked Naba enough to share their wealth without complaint. As a corporate lawyer, Mr. Cunningham had made enough over the years to build up a substantial college fund for his only child. Arnold used to feel like his inability to get into one to the Ivy League schools it was intended for was just one more item on his list of failures; now, however, he appreciated the fact that this left enough for Naba to benefit from the money as well.

Naba shook her head. "I mind," she said. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't feel right." She turned away and headed down the hallway.

"Naba, wait—"

"I told you, I don't want to talk about this."

Arnold thought about following her, but what would he say? Instead, he returned to the living room and took a seat on the couch next to Kevin—who was still staring at the television in wonder—and stared down miserably at his hands. He distantly heard the narrator explain the process of labeling records—a thin layer of glue is spread on one label, which is adhered to the record, and then the record is flipped so a second label can be applied to the other side—and then he heard Kevin burst into tears. Arnold looked over at his friend, praying that he had heard wrong, because surely Heavenly Father understood he had enough on his plate as it was. Nope, Kevin was definitely crying.

He sighed in resignation. "Buddy, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Arnold. They, they…" Kevin sniffed and then continued. "They put a label on, and then they put another label on the back." With that, he hiccupped and dissolved into another fit of tears.

"Yeah, so?"

"It's the most beautiful story ever told. The labels are together forever. But they're actually not. They're separated. By the record."

"Oh, yeah?" Arnold watched him wipe his eyes, and he hoped more than anything that Kevin remembered this when the high wore off, because he was going to feel so dumb. "You think that's pretty cool, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's tragic. And I'm the label."

"You are, huh?"

"No, you don't understand. I am the label; that's me."

Arnold studied his friend closely, wondering what exactly was going on in that pot-addled brain of his. "Kevin, is there something in particular you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes!" Kevin cried. "What I'm trying to say—I'm telling you that—that I'm the label!" He left it at that and looked at Arnold expectantly.

Arnold sighed. "Buddy, I don't know if you're trying to come out to me or if you literally think you're a label right now, so we're just gonna change the channel." He picked up the remote and channel-surfed until a pair of sparkling diamond earrings appeared on screen. "Look, QVC. Oooh, shiny!" he said, and Kevin stared ahead, mesmerized once more.

"I cannot stress enough what a great deal this is," the saleswoman insisted. "Just 95 dollars, we're practically giving them away. Folks, we only have 43 pairs left so they're going fast! Call the number on the screen to get yours now."

Kevin fumbled for his phone. "I have to call them," he said.

"Don't call them." Arnold quickly snatched the phone away.

"But the lady said so."

"What the heck are you gonna do with earrings?" He heaved a giant sigh. "You know what, I'm not feeling this party. Let's just take you home. Naba!" he called, standing up and joining her in the kitchen. "Can we go?"

"What's wrong with him?" Naba frowned and gestured to Kevin, who had followed Arnold and was now snacking from a large plastic mixing bowl full of Doritos.

"He ate the brownies."

"Ah," Naba nodded. "Okay, we can leave."

Arnold quickly bid goodbye to his friends, and then they all made their way to Kevin's car. Upon seeing Arnold was suddenly struck by the obvious.

"Um, Naba, how are we gonna get home?" he asked. "Kevin can't drive, and we don't have our licenses."

Naba craned her head back toward the front door. "No one else is leaving this early, and there's no way Connor's off yet" she said. "Let me call Jami. I think she's free."

"I can drive." Kevin had carried the bowl out with him and was still munching away.

"No, Kevin, you are high as a damn kite right now," Naba said. "You can't drive."

"I can drive," he repeated. "See, watch." Arnold was quick to steal the keys out of his pocket, but for curiosity's sake he did unlock the door.

Kevin started for the car and, at a loss with his hands full, threw the bowl to the ground and opened the door. He stepped inside, and then with the door still open, gripped the steering wheel with both hands and leaned forward.

"See?" he said, eyes focused intently on the windshield. "Told you."

"Okay, okay, you got us," Arnold sighed. "Now get out of there." He helped Kevin out of the car, and Naba pulled up Jami's number on her phone. Arnold half-listened to her chat for a few minutes before hanging up.

"She'll be here soon," she said.

"Okay, cool," Arnold replied. "Let me just tell my friend we're leaving the car here tonight and—Kevin, no, we don't eat chips off the grass. Stop it." Face palming, Arnold headed back inside the house.

The Next Morning

"I don't know why he is so upset," Naba closed her eyes and leaned back toward Connor as he massaged her shoulders. "What does it matter if I go to the community college?"

"He misses you," Connor said, shifting in his cross-legged position on his bed. "And he wants to see you every day like he used to."

"I understand, I miss him too," she replied. "But it's not like we'll never see each other. That feel amazing, by the way."

"Glad you like it. My mom's a massage therapist; she taught me few tricks. Before she decided I was trash and threw me out, that is."

"Your parents are fucking idiots."

"They really are, aren't they? I wish they weren't. But we aren't talking about me. Go on."

"There isn't much more to say. As long as I get the degree I need, it doesn't matter to me where I go to college. So why would I ask the Cunninghams to spend more? Is that wrong?"

"No," he said. "I definitely get that. International and out-of-state tuition are crazy expensive, even with financial aid. Sometimes I think I should have stayed in Idaho, except then I would've been alone. At least here I can stay with Poptarts over breaks. So no, I don't think you're wrong for taking that into consideration at all."

Naba smiled. Although she would never admit it to Arnold, she often missed Connor as much as she missed him when she was in Salt Lake. When the district leader first arrived in her village, she'd written him off as just another ignorant American who thought a religious text could solve all their problems, and she'd paid him no mind. It wasn't until she and Arnold became close and she began spending more time at mission headquarters that she realized how much the two clicked, and now she considered him to be her closest friend.

"But I have to ask, is that the only reason you don't want to come to Ogden?" Connor continued, his hands moving down from her shoulders to her upper back. "Because of the cost? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but it seems there's more to it."

"Well, actually…" The downside to this friendship was that she couldn't hide anything from him. "To be honest, I also don't want to live in the dorms."

"Residence halls," Connor automatically corrected. "Why not? It's a great environment."

"It isn't the buildings, it's the people," she said. "Weber State doesn't have co-ed housing and I…um, I don't know if I can live with an American that isn't one of you boys. It's awkward enough at times with Arnold's parents, and I feel so out of place sometimes—what if my roommate doesn't understand me?"

Connor sighed and pulled his hands away. "Turn around," he said, and Naba twisted around on the bed to face him. "If you really think SLCC is where you have to be, then I support you. But I don't want you to make that decision out of fear you won't fit in. You're amazing, and you'll thrive no matter where you go. Your roommate's going to love you, and if she doesn't, well, then she's stupid and you'll move in with someone better. Okay?"

Naba nodded and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Okay," she said. She still had no idea what her plan for the future was, but at that moment, it didn't matter.

The Following Week

Arnold watched Kevin glare at his computer screen for a full three minutes before he spoke. "Are you trying to work that with your mind?" he asked.

"Hey, Arnold," Kevin snapped, eyes still glued to the Canvas page pulled up on up his screen. "Want me to tell you about my first year of college? Sit down, it's a great story. First, I got into one of the best schools in the nation. But then I couldn't go, because my parents flat out suck. So I went here, I got drunk at a gay bar, got dumped in the middle of a date, was paired with the worst lab partner in the world, accidently ate marijuana at a party I didn't want to go to—I committed a felony, Arnold, a felony! I sang to fish, almost bought diamond earrings, and ate food off the muddy ground. And then, then, two days later, despite all of my hard work, I got a C on my physics final! Which means I got a B in the class. I got a freaking B! How am I supposed to become a doctor now?"

Arnold almost pointed out that Kevin was drunk before he got to the gay bar, but the devastated look in his eyes made it clear Kevin couldn't handle jokes right now. "Oh Kevin, don't worry," he said. "I'm sure UNC Charlotte will still take you."

Ken slammed the laptop shut and buried his head in his arms, not even bothering to correct Arnold this time. "I failed," he said. "I tried to get an A, and I couldn't do it. Which means I failed. I might as well quit school and work at Starbucks forever."

"Getting a B is not failing," Arnold said. "That class was super hard, right? I bet there were people who did a lot worse." When Kevin didn't respond, Arnold tried a different approach. "Want to go get ice cream? We can bring it back here and watch one of your Disney movies."

After a few more seconds of staring miserably at the grade on his screen, Kevin nodded and stood up. Arnold patted his back reassuringly, and the two headed out.

A/N: Thanks for reading, as always! Reviews are appreciated!