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Her sweatshirt misleadingly advertised Columbia University, although she’d never been to university and she’d never even been to the States. “Upstairs is he?” “Yeah. Top floor. Seeya!” He disappeared back through the door he’d come from, while Fatima made her way up the badly carpeted staircase to Freddy’s room, passing other rooms as she ascended, many of them pulsing to a different stereo beat. Fatima could hear some two-step garage coming out of Freddy’s room. She smiled. So much better than that Hard House stuff she’d had to endure last time she was there. She pushed open Freddy’s door, with a selection of rehearsed phrases competing for attention, along with the one that had only just occurred to her which was to compliment him on playing rather more melodic music. But she had barely said “Hi there, Freddy! How’re you?” when she realised that almost anything she’d prepared to say would be wholly inappropriate. Freddy was there. And his bedroom was exactly as Fatima remembered. A smile was fixed on her face, when wasn’t it?, and her blue eyes seemed to sparkle, despite the lack of make up, what little she used of it, anyway. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, eh? “They just let anyone in here, don’t they?” I called across the room, English still had a few minutes before it started. Maddie, never one to not laugh at a joke, suppressed her laughter until she started to turn a shade of red. I made my way toward her desk, where I almost always ventured over to. “I could say the same for you,” She returned, although she lacked something better to say, “and besides, it’s not my fault that my dog kept me up all night.” “Sounds like a personal issue to me,” I laughed back, avoiding a rather violent swat toward my head. “Besides, who’s to say someone doesn’t like how you look today?” It was me, damnit, but how was she supposed to know that? “What’re you sayin’?” Maddie asked, faking a southern, bad cowboy accent. “I’m sayin’ what I’m sayin’, pretty lady.”.
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