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in this remote corner of campus, a group of women in matching black bathing suits and funny white bathing caps were splashing around and making a lot of noise.
    â€œWhat are those things on their heads?” David said absentmindedly as he watched a pair of perfectly muscled calves break the surface of the pool.
    â€œWell, I was reading in my welcome packet that Vassar was a women’s college until 1969—it was one of the, um, six sisters colleges? Anyway, maybe they have some weird former girls’ school tradition about wearing old-timey bathing caps.”
    â€œUh, that would be
seven
sisters to you…,” David said. He had been half-listening to what Mickey was saying.
    â€œReally? How do
you
know that?” Mickey asked.
    â€œSeven. Definitely seven. Smith, Barnard, Wellesley …” David paused and looked at Mickey who was smirking unabashedly. “Shut up.”
    â€œDavid, I just had no idea you were such a proponent of women’s higher education. That’s awesome.”
    â€œI said shut up. And they’re playing water polo, you dumbass. Those aren’t old-timey bathing caps. They’re like special water polo helmets.”
    â€œOh.”
    They were distracted by some loud screeching and name-calling below. One of the girls seemed to be dragging another girl around by her bathing suit. This went on for a few moments, during which David wasn’t sure if he breathed or not. Finally someone blew a whistle and the girls all moved to the edge of the pool for a time-out.
    David and Mickey were staring unabashedly when one of the girls noticed them on the balcony. “Hey,” she yelled, “are you a professor?”
    â€œMe?” David called down. “Um, no.” The girls propping themselves up with their elbows on the side of the pool all started to laugh, but it didn’t seem like mean laughing to David. They were all looking up at him, and they all had glowing athletic skin and bright eyes.
    The tall brunette who had blown the whistle yelled: “Are you an FBI agent?” which caused the girls to erupt again.
    â€œI was just kidding,” the first girl went on. “You don’t really look like a professor. Or an FBI agent. Especially with that art project on your chest.”
    David looked down at the red splotches on his shirt, and then at Mickey, who was nodding to himself with satisfaction. “Told you,” he said.
    â€œHey!” One of the other girls exclaimed. “It’s that nude photo artist guy.”
    â€œOh yeah,” said another. “And that’s the cute guy from the photos, too.”
    â€œAre you
really
the cute guy from the photos?” said a girl who had pushed herself out of the water and pulled off the cap to release a cascade of bleach-blond hair.
    â€œUm, I guess. One of the guys …,” David mumbled, feeling his ears growing hot.
    â€œOh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” the girl with blond hair said. “I just think you look really good in a too-small suit, too.”
    David touched his flaming ear and smiled boyishly. It suddenly looked like he didn’t have to worry about leaving the attention from girls behind, after all.

arno in outer space
    â€œAre you sure this is where we’re supposed to meet them?” Arno yelled over “Under Pressure,” which was reverberating against the walls of the Mug, Vassar’s basement, on-campus bar. That was when he noticed all the glitter-encrusted signs on the walls proclaiming Friday night “Space Disco Night.”
    â€œYeah,” Patch said, “hold on a sec.” He was texting something, and since he’d only learned to text a week ago, it was taking all his concentration. Patch had insisted on taking an actual tour of the campus, so that he could report back to Greta, and Arno had tagged along.
    He still hadn’t figured out how he was going to get depth, although he could