“Sadly, yes,” he said.
“I hear you,” Summer said. “I’m a Cubs fan.”
“Ah, a Chicago girl,” Tyson said.
“Well, I’m from the ’burbs. Naperville.” She smiled. “But, yeah, I’m a lifelong Cubs fan.”
“Well. At least you guys have won a couple titles,” Tyson said.
“Yeah. In 1907 and 1908!” She laughed.
“Hey, it’s better than none,” he said. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”
“I’m Summer,” she said, then looked over her shoulder at Lainey and me, repeating her introduction.
“I’m Lainey. And I know nothing about baseball!” Lainey’s smile and energy lit up the room.
“I’m Hannah,” I said, feeling a wave of my usual social anxiety.
“Where are you guys from?” Summer asked us.
“I’m from Atlanta,” I said.
“Encinitas,” Lainey said. “Near San Diego.”
“Wow. That’s far,” Summer said. “How’d you end up at UVA?”
“I needed a change of scenery. And somehow, I got in!” She gave us another magnetic smile, her light brown eyes sparkling. “What about you guys? Why Virginia?”
Tyson cited in-state tuition; I told them my father and grandfather were both alums; and Summer said she had been recruited to run track and cross-country. Tyson looked intrigued, then promptly launched into rapid-fire questions about Summer’s events and PRs. She answered modestly, but her times were incredible. As we marveled at her 4:36 mile, Lainey quipped that she only ran when being chased.
“Do you find yourself being chased often?” Tyson deadpanned.
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” she said with a smirk and a toss of her long brown curls.
She was clearly flirting, but it seemed more playful than strategic, and despite how pretty she was, she didn’t seem full of herself.
Summer went on to ask about our majors, sharing that she was pre-med.
Tyson said he was debating between English Literature and Religion and would likely go to law school. Lainey said she was thinking about studio art or drama.
“Were you into theater in high school?” Summer asked her.
“I dabbled,” Lainey said. “But I’d rather be a screen actor than do stage stuff.”
“Very cool,” Summer said, shifting her gaze to me. “What about you, Hannah?”
I told her I was undecided.
“What do you think you might want to do?” Summer pressed. “Jobwise?”
My mind went embarrassingly blank, as it always did with this line of questioning. “I don’t know. Maybe interior design…or something in education.”
Summer nodded, remarking that teaching was such an admirable profession, as I decided that I liked her. I really liked her. She had such a down-to-earth, genuine vibe, exactly the way I’d always imagined people from Illinois—and all the I states, for that matter. She even looked wholesome, right down to her freckles and strawberry-blond pigtails.
“Yeah. Plus I love kids,” I said, thinking that what I wanted more than any career was to get married and have babies and be the kind of stay-at-home mother who bakes cookies and does crafts.
But that wasn’t something you could really admit, so I changed the subject, asking if they planned to rush in the spring. For me, Greek life was an absolute given. Many of my high school friends were already in the process of pledging at Georgia, Alabama, and Auburn, where rush took place before classes began. My mother was obsessed with what they were all doing and was already feverishly gathering letters of recommendation from anyone she knew who had any sort of connection to what she called the “top-tier sororities” at Virginia.
Summer shook her head, explaining that as a student-athlete, she wouldn’t have time. That made sense, but I was surprised when Lainey declared that she would rather “poke her eyes out with a hot stick than audition for friendship.”
“I feel you,” Tyson said. “My dad was an Alpha and really wants me to follow in his footsteps, but I kind of want to do my own thing. We’ll see.”
I listened intently, intrigued by their answers. For the first time, it occurred to me that there might be an alternative path to a college social life than joining a sorority. It also crossed my mind that Summer, Lainey, and Tyson might become my people. I had the strange feeling they would be.
We kept talking, covering a myriad of topics, including our families and siblings (Summer had an older brother, while Lainey, Tyson, and I were only children); our high schools (Tyson and I had gone to small private schools while Summer and Lainey went to large public schools); and our relationship status (we were all single).
Before I knew it, it was after midnight, and we had bonded in that magical way you hope will happen when you get to college. Summer said she really needed to get to bed—she had early morning practice—so we exchanged numbers and set up a group text thread. The following night we met for dinner, and in no time we’d become a foursome.
As organic as our friendship felt at the time, I look back now and see how unlikely it was. Beyond the utter randomness of our meeting in that lounge, we came from such different worlds. Lainey was raised by a single mother in a hipster surf town; Tyson’s parents were part of the D.C. elite, his father a high-powered attorney and his mother a federal judge; Summer was the quintessential Midwesterner with a sporty, apple-pie family; and I was the sole Southerner, growing up saying “yes, ma’am” and “no, sir,” going to church on Sundays, and wearing bows in my hair.
Somehow, we all clicked, though, like pieces of a puzzle, each of us bringing something different to the group. Tyson was the deep thinker; Lainey the free spirit; Summer our bright star and leader. I was never quite sure what my role was, and I sometimes wondered what they saw in me. I told myself that every friend group needed a cheerleader, and I had always been a good one. I took pride in that. I attended all of Summer’s home meets, encouraged Lainey to pursue her love of acting, and supported Tyson’s social justice efforts on campus.
Incidentally, and much to my mother’s dismay, I never ended up joining a sorority. I discovered that when it came to friendship, I preferred quality over quantity—and that my gut was right: Summer, Lainey, and Tyson were my people.
—
The next four years flew by, and suddenly we were on the brink of going our separate ways. Tyson was headed to Yale Law School; Lainey had taken a PR gig in New York City to support herself while auditioning; and I was returning home to work in a furniture showroom at the Atlanta Decorative Arts Center.
