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summer courses would be held as usual, of course, but for the most part Abel would remain in this pack of twenty.
    “What do you think, Abel, are you eager to begin?”
    “Eager, yes. And ready. This opportunity is such a privilege.”
    “Of course, of course, but you are very bright, and this is well deserved.” Larsen smiled as he stood, indicating the end of the meet and greet. “Welcome to college, Abel Miller.”
     
    ***
     
    The first week was filled with awkward conversations, people squinting their eyes at him in his unusual clothing, and then quickly turning away. He ate lonely lunches in the dining hall, usually next to Lacey, who was friendly enough, but Abel couldn’t keep up with the way the kids here spoke.
    It was easier to stay out of everyone’s way. He sat in classes where professors questioned his ability to comprehend the information. He stopped by Tara’s room after getting lost on his way to the campus bookstore and she sweetly drew a map for him with little arrows pointing out close by cafes and bookstores. Abel found himself memorizing it as he fell asleep each night, not wanting to get lost again, and look even more out of place than he already felt.
    Abel could handle the content, and the professors quickly learned that besides his thick accent he asked relevant questions during class discussions and seemed engaged in all the assignments. It was the down time Abel wasn’t familiar with.
    There were no lazy afternoons at the farm. Every day of his life had been spent working hard. When not helping a member of the community raise a barn, or fix a roof, or lend a hand harvesting a bumper crop, he spent hours on accounting, reviewing ways to make the sheep farm more efficient and streamline the workload.
    Here, in D.C., living in the heart of a city, with public parks holding the largest stretch of green and no farm animals in sight, the learning curve was sharp, even for a student who earned a twenty-three seventy on his SAT. Nothing prepared Abel for this new pace of life.
    Classmates in the Honors Intensive walked with thumbs moving fast against a phone, never looking up as they crossed intersections.  In class they took notes on small tablets, swiping at screens holding their textbooks, reading the news. Snapping pictures to post on interfaces Abel had heard of, but never used. Since he didn’t spend his free time plugged in to a screen, there were empty hours to fill.
    He had two classes in the morning, a short lunch break, and two more classes in the early afternoon. He kept busy on campus, one day he stopped to see his favorite Professor Trape during visiting hours to ask about a random Wall Street journal article, but he was careful not to appear needy.
    He’d even found a computer lab to ask a tech guy to help him figure out how to use the laptop he had bought before he came. The other days he holed up in the massive library or a nearby bookstore, practicing typing on the laptop, and reviewing all the textbooks the courses had assigned.
    Still, he found himself looking out the window of his tidy bedroom, in constant awe of how different the most basic things were. Light switches, sidewalks, the pleasure of holding his book in plain sight, not stuffing it under his pillow where a family member wouldn’t see it and find offense. Here, he was free. After the first week of classes, Saturday stretched out before Abel, who woke to a silent dorm floor. Once showered and dressed, he stuffed his wallet in the back pocket of his trousers and took his straw hat from the hook, unceremoniously placing it on his head. He took his set of keys and locked the door, making his way to the dining hall.
    Once there he frowned, realizing weekend breakfasts were pretty lame on campus. Toaster oven’s and cold cereal. He buttered a few slices of bread and layered raspberry preserves on top, not used to such simple fare. To be honest, he’d never cooked more than this in his life, and he felt a flush of