“Why?” I start to ask, then think better of it. What’s he training you for?

His eyes get serious. I’ll tell you later, okay?

“How was Italy?” he asks me out loud, because it’ll look weird to people if we’re standing here facing each other, not saying anything, while we carry out an entire conversation in our heads.

“Interesting,” I say. Which has got to be the understatement of the year.

Angela picks this moment to appear at my side. “Hi, Chris,” she says, lifting her chin in greeting. “How’s it going?”

He gestures at the crowd of excited freshmen milling around us. “I think reality is finally starting to settle in that I’m going here.”

“I know what you mean,” she says. “I needed to pinch myself when we drove down Palm Drive. What dorm are you in?”

“Cedro.”

“Clara and I are both in Roble. I think that’s across campus from you.”

“It is,” he says. “I checked.”

He’s glad that he ended up with a dorm across campus from us, I understand as I look at him. Because he thinks I might not like it if he’s always around, picking the random thoughts out of my brain. He wants to give me some space.

I send him the mental equivalent of a hug, which surprises him.

What was that for? he asks.

“We need bicycles,” Angela’s saying. “This campus is so big. Everybody has bikes.”

Because I’m glad you’re here, I say to Christian.

I’m glad to be here.

I’m glad you’re glad to be here.

We smile.

“Hey, are you two doing the mind-meld thing?” Angela asks, and then, as loudly as she can, she thinks, Because it is so annoying.

Christian gives a surprised laugh. Since when does she talk telepathically?

Since I’ve been teaching her. It was something to do on an eleven-hour flight.

Do you really think that’s a good idea? She’s loud enough as it is…. He’s joking, but I can tell he doesn’t love the thought of Angela being part of our secret conversations. That’s between us. It’s ours.

So far she hasn’t been able to receive, I say to ease his mind. She can only transmit.

So she can speak, but she can’t listen. How appropriate.

Ann-oy-ing, Angela says, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him.

We both laugh.

“Sorry, Ange.” I sling an arm around her. “Christian and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

A flicker of worry passes over her face, but it’s gone so fast I wonder if I imagined it. “Well, I think it’s rude,” she says.

“Okay, okay. No mind-melding. I get it.”

“At least not until I learn to do it too. Which will be soon. I’ve been practicing,” she says.

“No doubt,” he says.

I catch the laughter in his eyes, bite back a smile. “So, have you met your roommate yet?” I ask him.

He nods. “Charlie. He wants to be a computer programmer. Married to his Xbox. How about you?”

“Her name’s Wan Chen, and she’s premed and extremely serious about it,” I report. “She showed me her schedule today, and it made me feel like a total slacker.”

“Well, you are a total slacker,” Angela points out.

“So true.”

“What about your roommate?” Christian asks Angela. Poor defenseless thing, he adds silently, which makes me snicker.

“I have two roommates—lucky, lucky me,” says Angela. “They’re total blondes.”

“Hey!” I object to her tone on the subject of blondes.

“And they’re complete fuzzies. One’s a communications major—whatever that means—and one is undecided.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being undecided.” I glance at Christian, a tad embarrassed about my undecidedness.

“I’m undecided,” he says. Angela and I stare at him, shocked. “What, I can’t be undecided?”

“I assumed you’d be a business major,” Angela says.

“Why?”

“Because you look really stellar in a suit and tie,” she says with false sweetness. “You’re pretty. You should play to your strengths.”

He refuses to rise to the bait. “Business is Walter’s thing. Not mine.”

“So what is your thing?” Angela asks.

“Like I said, I haven’t decided.” He gazes at me intently, the gold flecks in his green eyes catching the light, and I feel heat move into my cheeks.

“Where is Walter, anyway?” I ask to change the subject.

“With Billy.” He turns and points at the designated parent section of the quad, where, sure enough, Walter and Billy look like they’re deep in conversation.

“They’re a cute couple,” I say, watching Billy as she laughs and puts her hand on Walter’s arm. “Of course I was surprised when Billy called me this summer to tell me that she and Walter were getting married. I did not see that coming.”

“Wait, Billy and Walter are getting married?” Angela exclaims. “When?”

“They got married,” Christian clarifies. “July. At the meadow. It was pretty sudden.”

“I didn’t even know they liked each other,” I say before Angela can deliver the joke I know she’s cooking up about how Christian and I are now some kind of weird brother and sister, since his legal guardian has married my legal guardian.

“Oh, they like each other,” Christian says. “They’re trying to be discreet, for my sake, I guess. But Walter can’t stop thinking about her. Loudly. And in various states of undress, if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh. Don’t tell me. I’m going to have to scrub my brain with the little bit I saw in her head this week. Is there a bearskin rug at your house?”

“I think you just ruined my living room for me,” he says with a groan, but he doesn’t mean it. He’s happy about the Billy-Walter situation. He thinks it’s good for Walter. Keeps his mind off things.

What things? I ask.

Later, he says. I’ll tell you all about it. Later.

Angela lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh my God, you guys. You are totally doing it again.”

After the orientation speeches, them telling us how proud we should be of ourselves, what high hopes they have for our futures, the amazing opportunities we’ll have while we’re at “the Farm,” as they call Stanford, we’re all supposed to head back to our dorms and get acquainted with one another.