Kippie, 19, hopes he can leave the past behind... but it's the only skill set he's got.
Base metal… necklaces.
Writer’s note
Does a boy's academic success - if he can do it - make up for his failure to connect with other students? That is, if the social connection doesn't work out, can he overlook his disappointment in favor of what is more important in life?
A good boy is off to a bad start in college, where he can't get to know anyone - he worries this is all going to turn out like high school did. He has changed his nickname since then to his more adult name, but he never remembers to use it; it just isn't him. One day in philosophy class, a boy that arrives late apparently has to take the first open chair, which is the one next to Kippie.
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The beginning of the story…
A GUY comes through the door of philosophy class. Class is about to start and he takes the chair next to me.
"Am I late?" he says.
"No."
It's the last thing I say to him because class gets going. When it's over, he has his papers together and is standing.
"Thanks," he says.
I don't know what for.
"Oh," I say, "yeah."
He's gone.
I think about philosophy. It's the first day of spring quarter, my freshman year of college. I don't feel much past a high school boy but this class will be okay, I think.
I'm glad I know somebody in there, and hope he will sit in the same chair again. In college they don't really assign the seating.
He seems friendly. I wonder if I will see him in class sitting somewhere else and I never get to talk to him.
I could go up to him and say, "Do you remember you sat next to me on the first day?"
He might say something like, "Yeah, I don't like sitting in the front row."
Then I would do some quick thinking and say, "I could move."
He would just look at me.
I'm not going to do any of that stuff. I will be in my seat in the front row, and find out what happens from there.
The question is, how are you supposed to make a friend? The answer is sort of, there isn't a lot you can do.
I get to class early on the second day. My chair is free. The chairs are wooden, plus they've got a small writing surface made for right-handers. That works for me.
I want to put a book or papers on that surface of the chair next to me. There would be nothing I could do if somebody else comes in and takes the chair before that guy gets here. Before I do what I'm thinking of, the guy himself comes in.
He walks straight for the chair he had yesterday and sits down. He puts his hand out for me to shake, adds some words.
"I'm Daire." It doesn't take him long to explain. "It's Irish."
I shake his hand. "I'm Kippie."
I have been trying to switch over since high school to the name Kipp but then I go and say Kippie by mistake. Daire is going to think of me as a little boy.
"How do you do?" he says.
"I'm fine."
I don't think it's the right answer to that question. But I don't have the answers. Things haven't changed for me since high school. And I have tried to be more outgoing, or whatever word the school counselor used to use.