SALTWATER FRESHMEN

CHAPTER 1: MOVE-IN DAY The car AC died 20 minutes outside Miami and Lena Ortiz immediately regretted wearing jeans. She sat in the passenger seat of her mom’s Honda with her knees up, trying not to sweat through her “first day” shirt. The one she’d ironed twice and still looked wrinkled. The U-Haul behind them rattled with everything she owned: two suitcases, a $12 lamp from Goodwill, and a framed photo of her and Abuela at Crandon Park when she was nine years old. “You’re quiet,” her mom said, turning down Celia Cruz. “Nervous?” “No,” Lena lied. Her throat felt tight. “Excited.” Excited. That’s what you’re supposed to say when you got a full ride and your mom worked double shifts for 4 years to get you here. When your abuela used to say “mija, you’re going to do big things” and you believed her with your whole chest. The University of Miami gates looked like a postcard. Palm trees. Red roofs. Kids who already looked like they belonged with their matching water bottles and inside jokes and confidence Lena did not have. “Okay mija,” her mom said, parking in the move-in line. “You call me tonight. You eat. You sleep.” “I will, Mami.” Her mom pulled her into a hug that smelled like hairspray and Vicks and home. “I’m so proud. Even if you’re a pain in the butt.” Lena laughed and cried at the same time. She didn’t say: _What if I’m not smart enough? What if I fail and waste all your money?_ Hecht Dorm was loud. A guy was arguing with his dad about a mini-fridge. An RA kept saying “Welcome home!” like she meant it. The elevator smelled like pizza and sunscreen and stress and too many people. Room 314. The door was open. Music was loud. Bad Bunny. “OH MY GOD YOU’RE HERE!” A girl with bubblegum pink braids launched herself off the bed. Paint on her overalls. Yellow nail polish on her hands. One sock on, one sock off. “I’m Zara! You’re Lena! I already picked the window side because I’m selfish but I’ll share the good snacks if you share the boring ones!” She talked with her hands. Fast. Too fast. “Also I’m sorry about the smell, I tried to make candles and almost set off the alarm. And I’m nervous. I threw up twice this morning. Not because of you. Because of everything.” Lena stood there with her suitcases. “Hi. I’m Lena.” “You’re gorgeous. Can I hug you? Is that weird?” The hug was tight and smelled like vanilla and spray paint. Zara didn’t let go for a second too long, like she needed it just as much as Lena did. “I’m gonna make this okay,” Zara whispered into Lena’s hair. “Promise.” Lena believed her for 3 seconds. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket. *Diego*: _Hey. Made it to UM okay?_ Her chest got heavy. Diego. Who told her “we’re better off apart” over FaceTime 3 weeks ago and then posted beach pics with girls from UCF 2 days later. She shoved the phone in her pocket without answering. Zara was already pulling her out. “Coffee. Now. Before classes. I don’t function without caffeine and neither should you. Also I need to show you the secret bathroom on the 4th floor. The one nobody uses.” The campus was overwhelming. Too green. Too sunny. Too many people who already had friend groups and inside jokes. Lena kept her head down and counted her steps to stay calm. One, two, three. Marine Bio 101. Room 112. Front row. Because that’s where safe people sit. Where the professor can see you and you can’t hide in the back and disappear. “Pair up,” Dr. Mendez said. She had sunglasses on her head and looked tired in a cool way. “Lab partners. Semester long. 40% of your grade is a Biscayne Bay project. Find someone now.” Lena’s stomach dropped. She hated group work. Hated depending on people. Hated being the one who always carried the project and did all the work. “Hey.” The guy next to her was damp. Like he’d run here. His t-shirt had salt on the collar and his hair was still wet from something. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Water droplets hit the desk. “Roommate flooded the bathroom. I’m Mateo.” He glanced at her. Really looked. “You look like you’re about to bolt.” Lena blinked. “What?” “You’ve got that ‘I’m fine’ face. My sister has it too.” He smiled, but it was crooked, tired, like he hadn’t slept in days. “I’m Mateo Ruiz. I’m pre-med but I faint at blood, so this is me running from my problems.” Lena almost smiled. “Lena Ortiz. I’m running from mine too.” They didn’t talk much during class. But he passed her a pen when hers died. He wrote “sea cucumbers = introverts” in the margin of her notes and she snorted loud enough that Dr. Mendez looked up from the board. After class, her phone buzzed in her pocket. *Unknown*: _Saw you. We need to talk. -D_ Photo attached. Diego. At a party. Red solo cup. String lights. Arm around someone. Camila. Camila, who braided Lena’s hair in 8th grade. Who promised “no boys, just us, in college. We’re gonna be roommates.” Wearing Lena’s denim jacket. The one Lena left at Diego’s house in June because she was mad and didn’t want to go back. Lena’s hands started shaking. The coffee in her other hand sloshed over the lid. “You good?” Mateo asked. He noticed. Of course he noticed. “You went pale.” “Yeah. No.” Lena laughed, but it sounded broken even to her. “My ex. And my best friend.” Mateo’s face did something soft. “That’s the worst kind. Wanna walk? Or sit? Or not talk? I’m good at all three.” They ended up on a bench outside the student center. He bought her coffee. Oat milk. He remembered she hesitated at the counter between oat and almond and picked oat for her. “My abuela used to bring me here,” Lena said suddenly. The words came out before she could stop them. “To Miami. When I was little. She’d say the ocean keeps secrets and we should keep ours too.” “My dad says the ocean doesn’t care about your problems,” Mateo said. “Which is why I like it. It’s honest.” They sat in quiet. It wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of quiet where you don’t have to fill it with talking to make it okay. Across the lawn, a girl with dark hair walked by. Denim jacket. Camila. She saw Lena. Stopped. For one second her face did something. Guilt? Panic? Regret? Then she turned and left. Fast. Lena didn’t cry. She wanted to. But she’d promised herself no crying on day one. Not today. Zara texted: _dorm meeting in 10. pls don’t be dead inside i need you_ “I should go,” Lena said, standing. Her legs felt weird and shaky. “Yeah,” Mateo said. He stood too. “Hey Lena? Day one sucks for everyone. You’re not doing it wrong.” Back in the dorm, Zara was making popcorn and had already put Lena’s photo of Abuela on the desk. Next to a sticky note that said “you got this :)” in yellow marker. “You don’t have to tell me,” Zara said, handing her a bowl. “But I’m here if you do. Also I claimed the top bunk for pillow forts. Is that okay?” That night Lena lay in bed. The fairy lights buzzed. The AC was too cold. Her phone lit up one last time. *Diego*: _Lakeside. Tomorrow. 3pm. Please. Just 5 minutes._ Lena stared at the ceiling. She thought about Abuela. About the scholarship. About Camila in her jacket. She didn’t text back. But she didn’t delete it either. Outside, Miami was loud. Cars. Music. The ocean somewhere in the dark, keeping secrets. ---