دانلود رمان انگلیسی “بازگشت سه ماهه دوم”

“I don’t know. It’s not really my scene, Zindy.” I shrug, popping the last bite of a flaky, buttery pastry into my mouth. Crumbs scatter onto the pages of Foundations of Biochemistry: Proteins and Enzyme Dynamics, my not-so-loyal companion for the past twelve hours. I swipe them away absently, though the textbook and I both know I’m woefully unprepared for Monday’s test. “Please, Cami-Camillion,” my roommate wails, throwing herself onto my bed like a damsel from a Regency romance, all melodrama and sequins. She clutches a sparkly halter top to her chest, the fabric catching the light like it’s auditioning for Broadway. For the record, the concept of plain doesn’t exist in Zindy’s closet. I haven’t seen anything that’s just one solid color—unless we count her jeans. Even those have been bejeweled. “You’re breaking my heart. Do you really want me to show up alone at a frat party? Do you know how humiliating that’ll be?” I glance up, eyebrow arching. “You weren’t humiliated last weekend when you and Jess infiltrated that Law Society meeting pretending to be pre-law students.” “That was totally different.” She waves the halter top in the air as though it’s a banner of her upcoming triumph—or surrender, hard to tell with Zindy. “That was networking. And it worked. I got five numbers and an invite to moot court.” “You’re not even on track to become a law student.” “Yet. I’m undecided and I like to keep my options open.” She rolls onto her side, fixing me with a smug little smirk as if she’s just casually declared her inevitable ascension to the Supreme Court. “Anyway, this is the Alpha Sigma Delta party, Camille. Do you know how hard it is to get on their guest list? It’s basically an underground society. You should be honored.” She should seriously consider acting. The theatrics alone could land her an Oscar. Zindy is dramatic about everything. I snort, flipping another page in my textbook. “Honored to be squished into a basement with two hundred sweaty undergrads and zero ventilation? Sounds dreamy.” “Imagine this . . . Cami and Zindy, queens for the night,” she declares, leaping up and tossing the sequined halter top onto my desk—directly over my carefully highlighted notes. I shoot her my best are-you-kidding-me look, but she just grins, completely unfazed. “Come on, you never do anything fun. This is college. You’re supposed to make bad decisions so you’ll have something scandalous to tell people when you’re rich and famous.” “Who says I want to make bad decisions?” I counter, tapping my pen against the textbook. “Maybe I’d rather make good ones and, you know, get into med school. The whole reason I’m here?” Zindy groans like I’ve personally offended her, then slides dramatically to the floor, draping an arm over her face like a fainting starlet. “I’m trying to save you from yourself, Cami. One day, you’ll look back on college and regret spending it all with—” she squints at the book cover, —“‘Enzyme Dynamics.’ You’ll be old and boring, wondering why you didn’t go out more.”