Kiley is starving. She has been studying for finals for the past six or seven hours, and missed dinner. Actually, a couple of those hours were spent on Netflix, watching a rather amateur horror movie. Ah, well, she needed a break. But now she is hungry. And she has something of a sweet tooth.
It’s 12:56am, so there’s no way she can make it to Usdan late night dining, and besides, it’s practically blizzarding outside. Her Florida origins make her shiver at the thought of going out. Anna, her roommate, went to a movie with friends a couple hours ago, and probably won’t be back for at least a half hour, maybe more in this weather. It’s unlikely that she would be able to pick up food for Kiley.
Kiley glances at the dry foods on the shelves above her desk and laments the fact that there is absolutely nothing involving high fructose corn syrup up there. She notes that she is also running low on her microwavable mac and cheese, and jots it down on the shopping list before she heads over to the freezer.
“Damn,” she sighs as she realizes she and Anna finished off the ice cream Tuesday night. There is about a half a cup of chocolate milk left in the fridge, though, and without a second thought, she tops it off. Unfortunately, it has little impact on Kiley’s growing sweet tooth.
She feels slightly guilty as she glances at Anna’s cellophane-wrapped cake tucked in the back of the fridge. It has been sitting there since early last week, when Kiley’s roommate brought it back from her Medieval Mythology club. For not the first time, Kiley wonders what Anna even does in that club. Anyway, the cake will go bad soon, so she might as well not waste it. Her roommate probably won’t even notice, and her only witness is Señor Sirena, the betta fish Anna brought home two days ago. Kiley doesn’t like that fish very much, but it’s not as if he can tell on her.
She watches the betta apprehensively as she unwraps the cellophane, marked “No touchie” in permanent marker. Señor is swimming around his fishbowl agitatedly. The idiot is probably fighting with his reflection again.
Kiley wakes up to the sound of someone unlocking her door. She opens her eyes to see Anna come in. Her roommate’s figure is distorted, like she is seeing her from below through some sort of bubble. Anna switches on the light, and Kiley moans in protest, but her voice is hoarse, as though it is morning.
“Kiley?” calls Anna.
“Right here,” croaks Kiley. What the hell is wrong with her voice?
Anna finally sees her. “Oh, shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Anna crouches down. “Kiley, you didn’t happen to eat that cake in the fridge, did you?”
“Yeah, sorry. I had a really bad sweet tooth,” Kiley tries to clear her throat, but to no avail. “How did you know?”
“Because you’re a frog.”
“I – what?” Anna grabs the compact mirror off of her desk and places it in front of Kiley. Her reflection is no longer that of short brown hair and hazel eyes, but of a pointy green face in a small globular fish bowl. “Wow. Fuck.”
“You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“You have no idea how sorry I am. Why did it have to be a frog? I hate frogs!”
“Yeah and I’m pretty sure Adam doesn’t like betta fish.”
“Wait – you turned Adam into Señor Sirena??”
“Not intentionally, but… yes.”
“I know. If it’s any consolation, I’m quitting Medieval Mythology club.”