Talk to Megan

Megan seems to either have nothing to do, or to be waiting for someone. You walk over to her, and sit in one of the unoccupied seats.

You give her the good, old fashioned: "Hey, what's up?"

She looks up, and isn't annoyed. So far so good. "Just waiting back for news. Someone tried to reheat a sandwich in their dorm microwave. It was still wrapped in tinfoil."

"Oh shit," you say. "Did the alarm go off?"

"It did," she groans out, exhausted. "You missed it because you were on campus. I envy your ears."

You do the math in your head. "Then it's been, like, hours. And the dorm clearly hasn't burned down. Why are you still dealing with it?"

"Paperwork. Every time the alarm goes off and it's not a false alarm we have to log it. It takes way longer than it should. This place is nothing if not inefficient. It also took us a while to get to it because of other shit we were managing."

You shake your head. "You sound like you're already an adult with a job."

"Yep, I manage a fucking building," she sighs. "I'm not going to lie. It's rough. I just turned 21. I can legally drink for the first time in my life, and here I am spending all my time busting other people for doing it. You knew that we have a totally dry campus, right?"

"Uh, no. I must not have gotten the memo."

"Shit," she sighs again. "That's my fault. I was supposed to tell you. No ****, no ****, even if it's otherwise legal. Sorry."

"That's rough. I mean, I have my age-appropriate beverages. But it must be rough for you," you say.

Despite all her exhaustion and frustration, she chortles. You take it as a win. "Right, all your age-appropriate drinks. Never even considered a sip of beer?"

"Never. Never thought that the legal drinking age should be eighteen, and the fact that it isn't is some weird puritanical nonsense either."

"Really specific thing for you to never think," she says. "I'd never agree with you, on that one."

"Then I guess that means we're in agreement," you say. "It would really, really suck if you had that belief, but you still had to confiscate drinks from twenty-two year olds."

"Oh, it fucking would," Megan says, now fully putting her phone down. "I promise you, it'd make me miserable. And I'd wish every day that I could just afford regular housing, off or on campus."

"If you don't mind me asking, why can't you?" You ask.

"Because my parents refused to help me with my tuition, I'm paying for everything out of pocket, and I am trying to be as not in debt as possible."

"Rough. Why?"

"They don't approve of my major," she grins. "I tricked them into thinking that it was engineering at first, but it's architecture. I got a few good parental donations out of that deception, but now especially because I lied, they'll never forgive me."

"Why would your parents care so much what you major in?" You ask.

"My parents are first generation," she says. "Like they are actually Asian, from Asia. And you do not just 'major in whatever you want.' Anymore than you 'just' get Cs. Not acceptable. Thankfully, I'm over it enough to not jump off a bridge. But that isn't true of everyone. I worry about my sister."

"What's wrong with your sister?"

"Oh, she doesn't rebel, she doesn't even question it. Mom says jump, she says how high. It must be really hard."

You wonder what to say to this. Before you can, though, the other RA shows up again with more paperwork.

"Oh, god," Megan says. "More?"

"More," he confirms.

"Sorry, Ryan. You would not believe how much I'd prefer talking to you over this, but you're right. I have a fucking job."

You watch her get up and go, and ponder the conversation you had with her the rest of the night.

You would not believe how much I'd prefer talking to you over this...

Are you crazy, or do you actually have a chance?