Study break, p.1
Study Break, page 1
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Table of Contents
About the Contributors
Copyright Page
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* * *
Dear reader,
All books begin with an idea, and this book had a particularly unique conception. Study Break began in perhaps one of the most Gen-Z ways possible: from a tweet, a quote retweet, and a ton of DMs. In the spring of 2021, Camryn Garrett sent off a tweet wishing there would be more space for novels set in college in the Young Adult category. Ananya Devarajan quote retweeted it: “Imagine … an anthology of diverse college stories that all connect by the end. If this does become a thing, PLEASE LET ME WRITE IT.”
And so, it began.
Now, this book is a time capsule: All twelve authors in this anthology were either in college or recently graduated at the time we wrote these stories. Those moments in time and in our lives are preserved in this collection.
Space for college-based stories in YA is increasing, and we are proud to contribute to that goal. It has been an honor to work to bring something that started as a series of tweets into book form for you to read. Shaping this collection as editor has been a great privilege of my life, and the authors of Study Break have made the work so fulfilling.
Thank you to Camryn and Ananya for lighting the spark, and to you, reader, for keeping the fire going.
Welcome to the University of Milbridge. We are so excited to have you.
* * *
FALL SEMESTER
FALL
Catch You on the Quad
By Oyin
I.
Imagine, for a moment, lazy summer days falling
crisp; oranges browns olives reigning
on August’s parade; a campus
beaming with buildings
that hold answers, dorms that house questions; wishes dropped
into a creek with the tiniest bridge;
manicured lawns teeming with magnolia
trees, bursting with bodies dancing
about its grounds, shimmying
with overstuffed boxes and suitcases
to Desai, to Greathouse;
the buzz of voices coasting above
eager fields and streets with instructions
to call every day, focus in class, attend club
meetings, feast in fabled Café,
get sorted in financial aid, throw (pity) parties;
imagine: the rookies
just out of high school
classes and clubs, homecoming,
payments for this and that and that and this,
deadlines, prom, graduation, homeleaving;
there’s a newness: in their eyes,
in shiny not-yet-swiped ID cards,
in secret trips, in nerves floating
around Polaroids freshly placed on plaster
walls and fairy lights illuminating;
imagine, veterans returning
from summer spent battling
heat-induced fatigue, fighting
hometown friends (or ex-friends),
strategizing with lovers
(or those soon-to-be), dueling
parents (or the ones who stepped up)
for approvals on transfers and altars to uncommon saviors—
only to hear the rallying call
of former classmates and former roommates
wheeling borrowed blue bins almost as old
as the universe seeing the birth of Milbridge,
only to realign with the campus itself:
its bronzed moose guard still, in anticipation
of high fives and fist bumps and double taps
for luck, its Last Drop openmouthed
to offer coffee-fueled confidence
during late-night cramming sessions
and meet-cutes forever memorialized
on cement walls;
imagine, for a moment, the feet that will
tickle the grass months from now, when
rookies and veterans sit with each other
in the quad;
Until then—the campus sighing in relief,
settling into itself, into fall, and thinking:
they are
here.
AUGUST The Ultimate Guide to Orientation
By Ananya Devarajan
A Revised Guide by Anushka Aarti Chandran
Rule One: The key to becoming valedictorian at the University of Milbridge is a competitive course load. Set yourself up for success by declaring a minor in Informatics a double major in economics and psychology on Day One.
Aarti Chandran stepped into the August sunlight, where she stood beneath the watchful eyes of the UMB school mascot: a friendly moose rendered in bronze. She watched as hordes of cooler-than-her upperclassmen passed by, standing up on their tiptoes to give him a fist bump or a high five as if it were second nature.
Her older sister, Anushka, placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “What do you think?” she asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “Does it feel like home?”
Aarti knew what the right answer was—yes, Anushka, I have the same gut feeling that you did five years ago—but if she was being honest, she wasn’t so sure yet. UMB was her sister’s home before it was ever hers, and the threads of her legacy were still present throughout campus, a distinct feeling that drifted from the depths of Pitfall Lake, where Anushka had her first kiss, to the bustling dorms at Desai Hall.
“Of course it does. It’s everything we’ve ever dreamed of.”
Anushka let out a squeal and grabbed Aarti’s hand, dragging her through the magnificent gates at the front of the school. “Oh, I’m so excited for you! I’ll have Mom, Dad, and Ishaan bring in your boxes, and we can get you checked in for orientation in the meantime.”
The mention of Ishaan, Anushka’s college-sweetheart turned fiancé, sent a nervous rumble through the pit of Aarti’s stomach. His existence in their lives was a constant reminder of Anushka’s successes at UMB, all of which had roots in her orientation—dozens of doting friends, the perfect roommates, and an instantaneous boyfriend, to boot. Flash forward to five years later, and Aarti donned a fresh set of mehendi on her hands from Anushka and Ishaan’s engagement ceremony.
“Why don’t you help with the boxes, too? I want to see if I can do this on my own.” Aarti tore her eyes away from her sister and analyzed the architecture surrounding them—blue-windowed science laboratories stood along the sidewalk, complemented by the swaying magnolia trees in the center of campus. A group of professors swapped stories outside the brick humanities building next door, identical lanyards around their necks. Despite the lack of a clear architectural theme, the university was unified by its spirit, thanks to the community who’d decided to call this place their home.
Anushka blinked at her. “Are you sure?”
Aarti patted her back pocket, where her sister’s personal guide to surviving orientation resided patiently, and flashed her a knowing smile. “Even if you’re not physically here, I’ll still have your advice with me. That’s more than enough.”
“I trust you.” Anushka pressed a kiss to Aarti’s cheek. “You’re going to love it here. Don’t let your anxious brain get to you, okay?”
“I won’t.” Aarti waved goodbye as her sister ran off to find the rest of their family. In the corner of her eye, she saw Anushka turn around for another glance at UMB, and Aarti hoped she would one day find the same attachment to her welcoming, but unfamiliar new home.
Once she was alone, Aarti pulled “The Ultimate Guide to Orientation at the University of Milbridge” out of her pocket. It was a stack of crinkled papers bound together by a thick gold thread. With the utmost care for her sister’s handiwork, Aarti flipped past the cardstock cover in search of Rule One as she walked through campus. Whereas Anushka had declared a minor in addition to her pre-admitted major on the first day of orientation, Aarti planned to take her education one step further with a double major.
Her attention snapped away from the handbook when the doors of the Office of Academic Advising swung open. An Indian boy with a smile that matched the glint of the gold chain around his neck, neatly tucked into the collar of his sweatshirt, exited the building. A bell rang above his head, its sound fading as he held the door open for her with the base of his heel. Their shoulders brushed when Aarti stepped forward, and a powerful spark of heat erupted in her chest, unleashing a cage of butterflies in her stomach.
“After you,” the boy said, voice smooth like the Madras filter coffee she drank with her father every morning before school. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away now that she’d fallen into his trap.
It was almost as if her intuition knew that this boy meant something, that he was important in ways mere logic could not begin to describe.
Aarti hated to copy Anushka’s meet-c ute right down to the alluring Indian love interest and quaint university setting, but the thought that she might be at the beginning of a similar destiny was reassuring. The downside was that Aarti was now acutely aware of her off-brand black leggings and basic UMB maroon sweatshirt, the loose tendrils of her curtain-bangs escaping her ponytail in a not-so-styled, not-so-trendy way. The sole redeeming factor was her sharp, winged eyeliner, but there was only so much makeup could do for her now.
“Uh … thank you?” Aarti meant to phrase it as a statement, but something about the boy and the sheer potential he represented rendered her useless.
The boy just looked at her, eyebrows lifted, expression amused. “My pleasure,” he replied. “See you around.” With a laugh, he left the building, leaving Aarti to stew in her embarrassment alone, just the way she liked it.
So much for a perfect meet-cute.
A counselor waved at her from what seemed to be the only empty desk in the room. Her hair fell into curled waves, and she was likely no more than a few years older than Anushka—twenty-five at best. “You lost, sweetheart?”
Aarti’s eyes flicked to the crowd of students lining up behind her, and she quickly made her way to the back of the room. “I actually had a few questions about my course schedule.”
The counselor exchanged a not-very-subtle look with her colleague, who was helping another student at the desk beside them, before returning her attention to Aarti. “Why don’t you have a seat? If you give me your name and student ID number, we can get started on answering your questions as quickly as possible. I wouldn’t want you missing out on the fun of orientation!”
“Thank you.” Aarti slid into the cushioned chair, reciting her identification details from memory. She tried to hide her awkwardness, her fear that she didn’t quite belong and that everyone in the room knew it as much as she did. On the surface, Aarti was the typical legacy student—poised to succeed from the very first day, armed with a step-by-step guide that could only be learned from the mistakes of those that came before her. It was a privilege, of course, but Aarti couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been set up to fail the moment she’d committed to the same university as her sister. “I was wondering if I could declare a double major. I know what I want to study, and I really would love to get a jump on that if possible.”
Aarti heard her request echo through the room despite the chattering voices surrounding them in every direction, and she sank deeper into her chair to avoid being perceived any more than she already was. The counselor bit her bottom lip, rouged in dark purple, and Aarti wasn’t sure if she was deep in thought or trying to restrain her amusement. “While I do love your determination, I’m afraid we cannot allow such requests for freshmen.”
“Can you make an exception?” Aarti pleaded, her heart growing heavy upon seeing the counselor frown slightly and shake her head. If immediate failure wasn’t the most on-brand way to start her orientation, she didn’t know what was. Aarti had always been the last-one-picked-for-teams-in-gym, never-been-asked-to-a-school-dance, straight-3’s-on-her-AP-exams kind of girl. She wasn’t sure why she’d thought university would be any different. “When my sister was a freshman here five years ago, she was able to declare a minor on the first day. Can I do that?”
The counselor shook her head again. “Sadly, I don’t think I can offer that option. Our rules have changed since your sister enrolled here.” When Aarti remained frozen in her chair, the counselor stole a quick look at the clock. “I know academics matter, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself too. Don’t be afraid to take your time, sweetheart.”
Aarti flinched at the term “sweetheart” and the way it was thrown at her in such a condescending manner. It was one thing to not accomplish the very first rule of her sister’s handbook, and it was another to be teased for it.
“Thank you for your time.” Aarti pushed her chair back with a purposeful screech, and offered the counselor a smile that barely reached her eyes. “I appreciate your help.”
“It’s my pleasure. Feel free to visit again next year if you’re still interested in adding a major, but until then, have a great time at orientation! I hope you know how lucky we are to have you with us.” The counselor returned her smile before turning back to her computer, oblivious to the string of curses Aarti was whispering to herself for letting her academic dreams go so easily.
“One rule failed, another nine to go,” she mumbled under her breath as she left the Office of Academic Advising. The door swung to a close, and seconds before Aarti stepped away to approach her orientation group in front of Desai Hall, she heard a pitying laugh and a sentence along the lines of I admire the poor kid’s spirit, but …
As if the disappointment of fumbling the easiest rule in the handbook wasn’t enough, Aarti now had to come to terms with the fact that her counselor didn’t even believe in her. She had never been more humiliated in her entire life, and she had no idea how she’d recover from it in time to leave behind a legacy great enough to rival her sister’s, especially if the only way for her to do it was to rely on socialization—a skill she’d yet to develop—instead of academics.
Before she could hatch a new plan for how to spontaneously become an extrovert as outlined in Rule Six, Aarti stumbled into a girl who looked as lost in thought as she was. They were wearing the exact same outfit, but the girl pulled it off ten times better, with elegant silver hoops that mirrored the sparkle of the crescent moon ring on her finger. She was magnetic in every sense of the word, and in that moment, Aarti was convinced that their meeting was a powerful act of fate.
She would be a fool to let this opportunity go to waste.
* * *
Rule Two: Find your forever family, the friends and mentors that will stand by you throughout your time at the University of Milbridge, and never let them go.
“I am so sorry,” the girl exclaimed, a horrified expression on her face, the polar opposite to the charming boy Aarti had met earlier. “I didn’t mean to bump into you like that, but I—”
“Don’t even worry about it. It’s more my fault than it is yours.” The girl softened as Aarti spoke, her eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners. Something about her set Aarti at ease, so she extended a hand. “In the spirit of awkward introductions … Hi. I’m Aarti Chandran.”
“Arisha Rahim.” She clasped her palm around Aarti’s. “I feel like I haven’t had the chance to talk to the other students yet, so I’m really glad that we could meet, even if it was an oddly physical encounter.”
“Tell me about it. Outside of meeting you, I’ve only really interacted with an academic counselor, and that was not a fun experience at all.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Hopefully, the rest of your orientation is so amazing that you forget all about that counselor.” Arisha offered her a sympathetic smile. “And, hey, maybe our meeting doesn’t have to end so soon. What orientation group are you in?”
Aarti checked her email, scrolling through a handful of notifications regarding orientation that her sister had neatly sorted into a folder for her on their drive to campus. When she found the email with her move-in time and group designation, she showed Arisha. “Group twelve.”
Her eyes lit up. “Those are some crazy odds. Twenty-five possible orientation groups, and the random girl I bumped into outside of Advising just so happens to be in mine.”
“It’s almost like it was meant to be,” Aarti said. She thought back to when she was practically laughed out of the Office of Academic Advising, fully convinced that she’d never come close to achieving the perfect orientation the way her sister had, only for Arisha to stumble into her life a few minutes later. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
The two girls made their way to the front of Desai Hall to meet the rest of their orientation group, and for once, Aarti wasn’t fretting over her earlier failure. Instead, she was captivated by the young couple sharing a gyro in front of the dining commons, the moose plush toys that waved from the Roman-inspired windows of Godfrey Library, the gentle hint of fresh water in the air, wafting over the groves of trees near Pitfall Lake a few miles over.
