“Alison Murphy.”

Deborah went up and got her scores. She looked at what she had: 95 in writing, 96 in English, and 92 in math. She frowned. It was the distraction of having to pee that had done her in on the math test. At least she still qualified to take calculus in the fall. That would have been embarrassing. She returned to her seat.

“So what did you get?” Ami pulled her paper away.

“That’s supposed to be private,” she said.

“It’s not so bad,” said Ami as she pushed her scores back to her. “Some of these people are dummies. That girl over there has to take remedial math, writing, and English. At least she’s an art major.”

“What do art majors do when they graduate?” asked Deborah.

“I’ll give you a hint: would you like fries with that?” Ami giggled at her own joke.

“That’s not so funny,” said Flower. “McDonalds kills chickens in the most inhumane way. If children knew how their food was killed they would not call what they eat Happy Meals.”

“I’m suddenly not hungry,” Deborah said. “Want to go up to the room, Ami?”

“I am sort of hungry,” said Ami.

“Well I know a pizza place that delivers to the dorms.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to eat dinner with Flower tonight.”

“Oh,” said Ami.

The two girls said their goodbyes and went up to their dorm room.