I think of texting Cara but ultimately decide not to, knowing I’ll only end up ruminating on everything I’ve given up.

Juniper emerges from a crowd of people on the other end of the room.

Or everything I will give up. I shove the thought from my head, focusing instead on the Juniper in front of me now. She looks beautiful. Her ponytail bounces as she walks, her cheeks pink with the cold, her eyes brilliant with their ever-present curiosity.

She searches the room, not yet finding me. I watch her say something to a girl texting by the window. The girl glances up, and then just like that they’re having a conversation. It’s that easy for her. She approaches people, and they’re instantly friends.

It’s the final push I needed. The last unwelcome indication I’m not part of this world—not part of Juniper’s world. Watching everyone enjoying themselves, close and convivial, I realize I have no reason to be here. I turn to leave and collide with a tall, harried-looking guy.

“Hey, how much time is left?” he asks me. “I forgot my phone in McCabe.”

“Uh.” I falter, looking behind me to see if he’s talking to someone else. There’s no one. The guy watches me expectantly. “How much time until what?”

“Midnight. The scream?” he clarifies, except it’s no clarification to me.

I pull out my phone, though, and check the time. “It’s 11:58. What’s the scream?”

“Freshman?” For some reason, the guy sounds delighted.

“Prospective student, actually,” I reply.

“Dude, awesome.” He drops a heavy hand onto my shoulder and shakes me congenially. “The Primal Scream is when everyone literally screams, letting out the stress and pain of studying for finals. Then we have breakfast. We’ll be up all night studying anyway. Might as well have pancakes, right?” I nod, unable to refute his logic. “Hey, what’s your name?” he asks.

“Fitz,” I tell him.

“Fitz?” he repeats. “Cool name. I’m Dave.”

Behind Dave, a girl clambers up onto one of the dining tables. People quiet, eyes turning to her. “Ten!” she shouts. Voices join her as she counts down. “Nine. Eight. Seven.”

“When she reaches the end, scream as loud as you can about whatever you want. Whatever you have to let out,” Dave says.

“I—” I want to tell Dave I’m not interested in screaming or traditions or breakfasts. Except the words don’t come. Dave waits with me in the entryway, counting down.

“Two. One.”

The room explodes. Everyone raises their heads and screams, shouting shared frustration and fury and maybe even elation into the packed room. It’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. It rings deafeningly, and I swear the roof beams shudder. It stuns me for a second, until Dave jostles me with his shoulder, and like the strange energy in the room compels me, I follow everyone.

I scream.

I send everything weighing me down into the din. The fear I’ve held on to about my mom, the huge questions I’m facing in my future, the doubt I can be what Juniper wants. I shred my vocal cords, hearing my voice disappear into the chorus of release.

Next to me, a guy I don’t know steps between Dave and me and throws his arms around our shoulders. The three of us, me and Dave and this complete fucking stranger wail together until we’re out of breath.

When finally the scream dies down, I’m grinning. The entire room feels calmer. A line for food starts to form, and I spot Cara in the midst of a group of girls wearing Swarthmore soccer sweatpants. She’s flushed the way I undoubtedly am. The girl next to her in line has her arm hooked through Cara’s, the two looking like longtime friends.

Cara sees me and waves. I wave back.

“What’d you think?” Dave nudges me, wild-eyed and visibly hyped.

I don’t think before I reply. “Obstreperous.” It’s the first word that jumps into my head, and I regret it immediately. It sounds obnoxious, pretentious.

Dave looks momentarily thrown. “Does that mean loud?” he asks.

“Loud and unruly,” I supply hesitantly.

“Yes. Exactly.” He nods fervently. He walks past me, heading for the food line. “Come on, Fitz. I need bacon.”

I follow through the dining hall, threading between tables and chairs draped with coats. While we pile our plates, Dave introduces me to a few of his friends, guys in the political science program, one of whom is writing his thesis on the political plausibility of The Handmaid’s Tale. They’re friendly, full of questions on my hometown and what I want to study. I notice my nerves from the beginning of the night are gone.

It makes me wonder whether Juniper was right. If my fear of change is something I have to face and fight, and my mom is only my excuse not to. Because tonight had nothing to do with my mom, and yet I was ready to give up on it before I’d even given it a chance. I was going to write this experience off like I did with Cara, like I’d planned with college, like I was preparing to do with Juniper. But I didn’t give up on tonight. I let it sweep over me, and the only consequence was that I had a memorable, wonderful night. If I let other things in, it might be fine. It might even be wonderful.

Maybe I’ve made Mom my excuse every time. For Cara, college, my future.

But if my fear comes from me, I can fight it for myself.

Sitting with Dave and his friends, a plate full of half-finished pancakes before me, my thoughts return to the one thing I need to do. I stand up from the table, searching the room for a particular ponytail.

   Juniper

I LOVED THE Primal Scream at first. The frenetic buzz was exactly how I’d imagined it when I read up on the tradition over my solitary dinner in Philly. When I entered Sharples Hall, I went up to the first girl I found and asked if she comes every semester. She told me she did, and I wanted to keep talking to her, but she got a text and walked off to join her friends.

Enveloped in the crowd, I wove through tables, looking for Fitz. But the countdown began before I found him. The seconds wound down to midnight, and the room erupted. I prepared to join the hundreds of voices screaming themselves hoarse, pouring out their every emotion in one cathartic rush.

I couldn’t. My lungs, my heart, wouldn’t. I have things I want to scream. The day with Fitz, everything with Matt, the pressures of my family. I just couldn’t.

I hated the feeling. Everywhere around me, students were clinging to each other, laughing, coming together, and all I felt was alone.

I walked out of Sharples Hall into the night, where I heard the echoed screams of students who couldn’t come to the dining hall joining in from their dorm rooms. I’ve been wandering the campus for the past ten minutes, my thoughts a blizzard colder than the wind on my face. I can approach someone and ask her about her school, her major, whatever, but that won’t make me her friend. I could be in exactly this position next year, in a crowd of friendly faces and yet entirely alone. Except next year, I won’t be returning to high school with my friends, with my sister, at the end of winter break.