Verse 17: Chaos Theory

The building was tucked away at the edge of campus—beige, boxy, and smelling faintly like printer ink and forgotten joy. I passed a statue of Mahatma Gandhi that looked more confused than wise. A few pigeons rested on his head, all disrespectfully. Even he looked like he wanted out.

Inside, I spotted the elevators n the right and made it to the second floor. According to the handbook, that’s where the CAMPUS RECORDS DEPARTMENT was.

I slipped into the building and spotted the elevators to my right. Took it up to the second floor like the handbook said.

A laminated sign on the glass door read:

STUDENT ID REGISTRATION – LINE UP QUIETLY. NO COMPLAINING. NO FOOD

The line moved like molasses. Twenty minutes in and we’d barely shuffled forward five feet.

Which I wouldn’t mind, except my earbuds died and now I had to listen to someone behind me chew gum like it owed them money. I was starving, my back hurt, and the girl in front of me hadn’t turned around since I accidentally sneezed near her neck.

She wore a black cap with the word chaos stitched in silver cursive. Her braids were long, blue, and threaded with tiny charms—rings, beads, and one perfect little lightning bolt that caught the light when she moved.

Then finally, she turned—halfway— took one earbud out and raised a single eyebrow.

“You gonna keep sighing like that the whole time?” she asked.

I blinked. “Uh… I mean...sorry. Long morning.”

She looked me over like I was a quiz she hadn’t studied for. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or skipped your meds.”

“…A bit of both, maybe.”

That made her smirk. “Campus’ll do that to you.”

Her voice was smooth but sharp, like someone who’d learned to smile while cutting through your bullshit. She turned back around, but didn’t put her earbud back in.

“You’re Davis, right?” she asked, still not looking at me.

I froze. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “People talk.”

“People…?”

She finally turned to face me, her lips quirking just a bit. “Malik mostly. Elena briefly mentioned you too.”

That sank in fast. My stomach dropped into my shoes.

“Wait...you know Elena?”

She tilted her head. “Yeah. She’s cool. Said you were… interesting. But Malik gave me the unfiltered version.”

I squinted. “Unfiltered meaning...?”

She leaned in slightly, voice dropping conspiratorially. “That you’re awkward, bad with texts, and a jerk. That you ghosted a girl you were maybe crushing on.”

I winced. “Okay, that’s not entirely...”

“I’m messing with you. Well, mostly…”

Damn it. Malik and his big mouth.

I narrowed my eyes. “Well,” I feigned a laugh. “You know Malik, he’s always joking around.”

She laughed—actually laughed this time. “Relax. You’re not that important.”

Damn. Okay. Kick a guy while he’s down. Really doing wonders for my self-esteem.

The line moved again. She stepped forward, then turned over her shoulder.

“I’m Sheila, by the way,” she said, holding out a hand.

I shook it but tried not to look at her. A nice firm grip and cool rings.

“And for the record,” she added, “Elena’s chill, but I wouldn’t recommend ghosting her again. She writes a mean poem. You don’t want to be the subject of her next one.”

Noted.

We reached the doorway. The clerk inside looked like she hadn’t smiled since the Cold War. Even I looked happier compared to him. I stepped up, took the form, and handed it back after scribbling my info.

I turned to leave, but Sheila was still there, her arms crossed and her cap tilted down.

“You coming tonight?” she asked.

I blinked. “To what?”

“The Loophole Club, dumbass. You did say you were in, right?”

“…I mean, I didn’t say no.”

She rolled her eyes. “Close enough. Don’t be late.”

Before I could respond, she plucked my phone out of my pocket, typed her number, and handed it back. Saved her name with two pink hearts.

What… what do two pink hearts mean? Are they sarcastic? Friendly? Threatening?

“I’ll text you,” she said. Then just walked off.

Like she hadn’t just flipped my whole afternoon upside down.

I stood in the hallway gripping my new student ID waiting form, still unsure if I’d just been invited to a party, a secret society, or a trap.

Maybe all three.