The next day, I was rushing out the door to get to class when I nearly trampled Jodi. She was standing in the hallway, bent over backwards struggling to carry a mini fridge. Beside her was some godawful pink rolling suitcase, zippered halfway with clothes and stuffed animals bulging out.

“Oh Jordan!” she smiled. “Be a dear and hold the door for me?”

I balked. “Um. Jodi? What are you doing?”

“Didn’t Tom tell you?” She pushed past me and set the fridge down in the living room. My living room. “I’m moving in!”

I glanced at my watch. Crap. “No, Jodi.”

“No?”

“Just… no.” I was still backing toward the door. “Look, I don’t have time to talk about this. I can’t afford another tardy. But when I get back, I’d better not see any of your crap around here. I mean it!”

She opened the bag and started removing prissy girly things I couldn’t even identify. I crossed my arms. “I’m serious, Jodi.”

She looked up. “Jordan?”

“What?”

“Your eye looks better.” And she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.