Indebted to the Mafia King
A Part of the Crowd

Eleni

"How did you get the gradient?" Kaley leans over and points at the background of the webpage on my laptop. "I feel like CSS is organizing against me. I can't get it to work."

I glance at the front of the classroom, where Professor Villanueva taps away at her own computer. She said we weren't supposed to help each other with this assignment. It's a test of our initial capabilities. But then I look back at Kaley, who clasps her hands under her chin and flutters her eyelashes. God, she can't be twenty yet, can she? After my semesters at night school, I was able to start Tandon a little ahead of the usual freshmen, but Kaley seems so young. Something in my stomach twinges. I swallow, praying it's not midafternoon sickness. Thankfully, the rush of saliva that always precedes my attacks doesn't appear. This twinge is more like what I imagine the baby kicking will feel like. When it can do that. Almost like the not-quite-baby inside me is telling me I should help out another at least relative baby in need. I sigh and lean over to Kaley's laptop.

"You haven't opened the supplementary image folder in the programming software." I open her file explorer and navigate through it quickly, glancing at the front of the room every few seconds just in case. Professor Villanueva is totally absorbed. I wish I knew what she's doing. From just her welcome speech alone, she seems brilliant. "Now try it."

Kaley reclaims her laptop and hits the button to rerun her code. The page loads with the soft blue to green gradient in the background.

"Yes!" She pumps her fist into the air.

A few other students turn and glare. I swallow my laughter as she flushes bright red and ducks behind her screen. "Thanks," she mutters. "Your name is Eleni, right?"

I nod as I add a few more lines to my style sheet. Professor Villanueva wanted to see our very best landing page for a tech company, using the provided resources, and a landing page means there have to be buttons to navigate deeper into the website, even if I don't have content to put on them yet.

"I'm sorry if this is like, awful, but I haven't seen you around, and you're kind of...." She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. "Distinctive, I guess."

Does she mean my outfit? No one else is really wearing leather. There's actually a lot more cotton and sweatpants than I expected, just like at night school. Or-I look at her baby face again-does she mean I'm old? Next to Dante, twenty-four never feels like a big deal, but here, I look more like one of the professors than a student.

"I just transferred from community college," I say.

Her messy bun bobs with a nod. "Cool. My brother got an associate's degree. He said it was way more helpful for actually starting a career, but I had my heart set on this. Freshman year almost kicked my ass, not that I'd ever tell him that. Mom and Dad pinned all their hopes on me."

The little barb at the end stings, an unspoken agreement that a four-year university is better no matter what she says. All day, my classes have been like this. Academically challenging, full of fascinating professors I'd love to get to know, and what seem like literal teenagers who have no idea what to do with me.

Professor Villanueva stands up. "All right, that's our time for today. Email me your code seriously, whatever you got done in class, because I'll be checking time stamps-and head out. Looking forward to seeing what you can do!" The whole room fills with rustling as people pack up. I save my code in the editor, then in the version control system, then send it off to the email at the top of the syllabus from my new campus account. Kaley does the same, with a lot more fidgeting and cursing.

"I'm done for the day," she says. "Headed to Downstein before my homework crushes the will to live out of me. Hungry?"

Hunger these days is like a cat that really doesn't want to go to the vet. I have to sneak up on it, not make plans. And, more importantly, I didn't bother buying a meal plan since I was living off campus, so the dining hall is closed to me. "Still have classes." I shrug my monogrammed leather messenger bag, a present from Dante to apologize for his absence this morning, onto my shoulder and smile. "Maybe next time."

She nods. "Totally!"

I jet into the hall ahead of her and turn deeper into the glass-walled building. Amando, my undercover guard, slices through the crowd after me. If I'm remembering the map I memorized correctly, there is an elevator that'll take me out this way. The other two guards will catch up.

Someone wolf-whistles. I make the mistake of looking up to see a cluster of guys in low-slung sweatpants staring at me.

"Nobody told me we got dancers this year!" one of them crows.

"How much for a private room?" another asks.

I flip them off and walk a little faster. The outfit was a total mistake. Less than half the guys I've talked to today have even acknowledged when I said I was a student. It doesn't feel like when Frank used to leer at me I know I'm hot, and even better, I know all I need is a dark alley and a little luck to make sure they don't say shit to anyone ever again-but it is...I don't know, alienating? Just another reminder I'm not like the rest of the trust fund kids in here. It really is a good school. The professors have been incredible, and when people shut up and think, they come up with the kind of ideas I just want to turn around in my mind for hours. But between the wall of on-campus jargon, the constant references to moms and dads putting all their eggs in the kid's basket, and the three times I've had to run to the bathroom to throw up, it's hard to feel like I belong here.

Maybe it's the baby. I run a hand over my silk-covered stomach. The other students aren't that much younger, they're just more carefree. They can party all weekend and roll into class hungover. I have to worry about protecting a life. Several lives, if I consider the Saints.

I round a corner to see an elevator and allow myself a little happy dance in the relatively private hallway. Amando smiles.

"Long day?"

I heft my bag full of homework. "Not yet, but it's about to be."

He hits the button to call the elevator, and we wait as the other two guards, Leo and Dice, join us. A student turns into the little vestibule, takes one look at Leo's and Dice's suits, and turns back around. Just another thing to make me stand out.

The whole trip home is quiet as I turn over the day in my mind. I already have ideas about my homework, but part of me kind of wishes I wasn't going back tomorrow. I don't want to be stared at again.

At the top of the apartment building, the elevator doors ding and open to reveal Dante, wearing the same suit he left in last night. Still, I can't help smiling. It's been too long. "Hey-"

"Don't get out." He hands one of my guards a backpack. "You have to go see an old friend."