Arin Adams swore and ripped the headphones off of her head. She threw them onto her desk and reluctantly typed “GG” into the chat box that appeared over a red screen displaying the words: “Blood ’N Blasters III: You’re a Loser!”

Arin rubbed her throbbing head before putting the headphones back over her ears. Her teammates were already discussing what went wrong. She felt a twinge of guilt since, as the captain of the team, it was her job to lead everyone to victory, and she had failed.

“They just had better communication. Nothing we could do,” said JaeHai09. 

“Nah they cheated,” said Pwolfe.

 “We still have one more loss before we’re disqualified. We just need a team morale booster. The Red Electrons still have a shot at getting into finals,” said CollinItQuits94.

Arin perked up. “Oh. Speaking of which, remember how you losers talked about getting team sweatshirts for championships?” Her headphones flew off her head again, freeing her to zip over to her dorm room closet. She ripped it open and tore out a bright red hoodie. It had a white and black symbol of an atom on it with the words “Red Electron.” It wasn’t quite their team name, but the print company charged by the letter, and Arin had tuition to pay. She slid back over to her computer and popped her headphones back on, ready to open a video chat feed.  

“—I was thinking we change the name all together,” said Pwolfe.

“True. None of us are even science majors anymore. It doesn’t really work,” said Jaehai09. 

“I was never really a big fan of red, anyway,” said CollinItQuits94

Arin tossed the sweater over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah. Same. I agree. Red. What a boring color. Right?” It’s not like that was her schoolbook finances for next semester or anything. 

“Ugh. Guys I have to go,” Arin said. “I have that security risk analysis thing due tomorrow. I’ll never get out of this rinky-dink town if I fail, and I haven’t heard from Joe in a week. You’d think someone who will flunk out of Junior year if he doesn’t pass their final collab assignment would at least try.” 

“Good luck,” said Pwolfe.

“Glad I’m not you,” said CollinItQuits94

“Yikes,” said Jaehai09. 

Arin removed her headphones one last time and stretched out her back muscles. Her total-mess-of-a-dorm was starting to get out of hand. Dirty clothes clumped into a pile in the corner, and crumpled papers scattered everywhere. Her roommate slept on the other bed, curled up with a mound of unfolded laundry as her sleeping partner. Drool puddled onto her pillow, her pillowcase long lost in the chaos around her. She was always so drunk on the weekends that it was impossible to wake her up with even a marching band.

Arin picked a jacket off the ground and sniffed the cotton. It reeked of Tuesday’s chem lab. She tossed it behind her and picked up another one to check its stench, motor oil. The atom-bearing hoodie beamed like a beacon of red in Arin’s peripherals. 

Well, I bought it. I might as well wear the thing, she thought. It was better than freezing her ass off in the middle of December in South Urbana.   

She walked her way up the street and across the itty-bitty campus that was South Urbana Community College Joe lived on the opposite side of campus, which wasn’t more than a five minute walk from Arin’s dorm, in one of only two fraternity houses. Arin knocked on the door.