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performing what I would term social media experimentations every day. Well, now you get to do it for credit. I want you to take something you’re passionate about, some topic that inflames you, something with which you have had personal experience, and for four weeks, devote a blog to this subject. You’ll be responsible for promoting each post through other elements of social media that we will discuss in the seminar, and you will present a full report of your modes and methods of operation and all details, due at the final meeting of this seminar.”
    A low buzz filled the room, and Dr. Turner raised her voice. “All details are in the syllabus you received today. If you have any questions, you know my office hours. And may I just suggest, make your topic specific. Don’t bore me with any highbrow crap. I don’t want you giving me what you think I’ll like. Take something personal. If you have a weight problem, tackle that. If you’re struggling with a spiritual issue, that’s what I want you to explore. Take the lemons in your life and make them into delicious lemonade.”
    She clicked off the projector, letting us know that class was over. I closed my notebook and shoved it into my bag, thinking of her words. What kind of lemons could I use for lemonade?
    “Julia.” The girl from behind me touched my shoulder, and I turned.
    “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry about before class. I know it sounded like I was being a bitch, or at least really nosy. But what I wanted to tell you is, I’ve been there. Guys are jerks. And if you ever need someone, you know, like a shoulder, I promise, I don’t have a big mouth.”
    I smiled. “Thanks. That’s really sweet. I’m doing okay.” I hesitated a moment. “You said you’ve been there—you mean—you don’t mean with him , do you?”
    She looked lost for a second and then her face cleared. “Oh, no, sorry. No, for me it was another asshole. A senior I dated when I was just a freshman. He really screwed me over.”
    An idea was taking root. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
    She stuck out a hand. “Kristen. Kristen Howard.”
    “Good to meet you, Kristen. Do you have time to grab coffee?”
     

     
    “...so we met at a party, of course, and I didn’t find out he was actually dating someone else until we’d been going out for almost a month. And then he told me that he really wanted me , but his girlfriend was fragile, she’d had some kind of addiction, and he couldn’t break up with her yet. But he would. And yeah, I was dumb enough to believe him.”
    We sat in my favorite booth at Beans, each nursing a steaming cup of mocha java. Kristen played with the napkin that lay on the table.
    “That’s not dumb.” I shook my head. “You were a freshman. You liked him. My roommate Ava says trust is our natural state, most of us, at least, so it’s not unusual for us to get hurt sometimes.”
    “Well, maybe. I definitely gave him more than he deserved. I hung on for four months. I let him talk me into sleeping with him. And then he dumped me. His fragile girlfriend came to my dorm room and told me I wasn’t the first one he’d used. I don’t know why she was willing to stay with him, but she was. I heard they got married after graduation.”
    I snorted. “Talk about dumb. Why would you tie yourself to a guy you know is a cheater?”
    Kristen shrugged. “Right? Maybe she really was fragile. Anyway, that’s my story. I haven’t dated anyone seriously since then. No big deal. But being at the party last month and seeing what that jerk did to you brought it all back.”
    I took another sip of coffee. “Did you ever want to do anything to him? You know, like, revenge?”
    She laughed. “Oh, believe me, I thought about it. A lot. I just didn’t know what I could do that wouldn’t end up backfiring on me. I mean, he was a senior, on the football team—did I mention that? And I was just a mousy freshman who was stupid enough to fall in love with