“Dean? Want to help me with this buddy?"
My dad called up from the street where he was unloading the van we’d rented. Not a grubby old moving van, either. No, this one was bright white and practically brand new. Like everything in my life, it was over the top and excessive. Something I was getting tired of, if I was honest.
Nothing but the best for the Westens.
My mother had gone all out as usual. A new laptop, an easy chair with an ottoman, an ergonomic desk chair, and thousand thread count sheets with matching quilts and blankets.
There were throw pillows and a rug to 'tie it all together.' She'd even packed some artwork, tastefully framed posters of places we’d travelled over the years. Plus a few concert posters for the old rock bands that she knew I loved.
It already looked like an interior design magazine's version of a college dorm room.
I grimaced. I did not want to be labeled as a spoiled rich kid on day one. My parents had overdone it as usual. They meant well though. I decided not to say anything, knowing I could
always tone it down later.
I ran down the stairs to help unload the rest of the van. If nothing else, it would get them out of here faster. And then I could hide the damn throw pillows in the closet.
I was nothing if not a dutiful son.
Chapter 4
Krista
Everything was gray.
It was misty as I peered eagerly out the dirty window. This was a monumental moment. I wanted to brush the dirt away so I could see it.
The start of my new life.
The bus pulled to a stop in front of a dingy bus depot. I leaned forward, my forehead nearly pressed against the glass. It was a gray, chilly day for September, but nothing could dampen my spirits.
Or soothe the small knot of nerves in the pit of my belly. Just butterflies, Nan would say. But it felt more like a tiny tornado. Nothing sweet or pretty about it.
I pushed my nerves down. This was it. I was here at long last. My first day at college. It didn't matter that I was stiff and in sore need of a shower after eighteen hours on a smelly old bus.
Today I got to rewrite history.
I was no longer the odd girl from the edge of a tiny, backwater Louisiana town. I was not the girl whose mother had run off and abandoned me. I was not the one wearing clothes with patches and everybody else's hand-me-downs.
As of today, I could be anyone I damn well wanted to be.
It was pretty much the best day of my life.
It was the first day of my life.
I stood on the sidewalk with my bags at my feet, looking around. There was a grubby old coffee shop and a few low rent looking storefronts. But to me, it was all exciting.
You would think the bus would stop directly in front of the college, considering the school was the top draw for the town, but no. The University was at the edge of town, far from the gritty downtown area where the bus let out.
Well, it was a large town or a small city. I wasn't really sure which. But for the next four years, it was home.
Either way it was already way more glamorous than where I’d come from. If I had my way, I would never be going back home again. Only to visit and see Nan. Never for any longer than a quick visit. That chapter was over.
The new Krista was here.
I heaved my second-hand backpack over my shoulders. It was heavy, but thankfully a lifetime of chores had made me strong. Inside it were my prized possessions: my pillow, a couple of favorite books I read over and over again when I couldn’t sleep, and a sketchpad. My primary escape vehicles.
One for reading, one for drawing, and one for dreaming.
The ancient army navy store duffle bag contained two pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, two button downs, a cardigan and a jean jacket that was a little on the tight side.
Actually, everything was a little tight across the chest these days, what with my bosoms coming in late. That had facilitated a last-minute trip to the local thrift shop. Most of the unstained shirts happened to be in the men's section, so that's what I had. Nan had taken up the sleeves so I wasn't swimming in them. Other than my underthings and a couple of nightgowns, that was all I had brought.
It was everything I owned, more or less.
Every last bit of it was rolled up into the beautiful quilt Nan had given me for my sixteenth birthday. The quilt was painstakingly crafted of scraps from sewing projects, faded curtains and, most meaningfully, from a few of the old dresses my mother had left behind.
Those little snips and bits were all I had left of my mother. It wasn't much, but it kept me warm and safe at night. And that magical feeling stayed with me all through the night, even in my dreams.
Until I had to wake up and face the real world, anyway.
On my feet were my one pair of sneakers, my only other pair of shoes was the broken in penny loafers that swung from my arm in a plastic grocery bag. Nan had taught me to keep my shoes away from clean clothes and bedding long ago. If I got on the bed with my shoes on even once, I never heard the end of it.
'Traveling light' my grandmother called it. 'Being poor' was a more accurate way to put it. Money had always been tight, even before Mom had disappeared on us. But after, things got a lot worse.
I never went hungry though, or without clean, mended clothes to wear. So I didn’t see the point in complaining.
My stomach growled at the thought of food. Speaking of which, I was in dire need of something to eat.
It was mid-morning and I was starving. I’d gotten on the bus yesterday afternoon with a bag full of snacks. Mostly fruit but also a tuna fish sandwich and one of my favorite bags of chips. Those were long gone, as was the bottled water and iced tea I’d brought along to sip.
I asked directions and started walking the half a mile from the bus station to campus. I stopped and got an iced tea from a deli and kept walking. No need to show up with a scratchy throat, but I didn’t feel like eating a sandwich on the street.
I hoped the dining hall was open soon. That was included in my scholarship, so all my meals had to come from there. I knew the food wouldn’t be like home cooking, but I prayed it wouldn’t be too bad. Not that it would matter at the moment.
All this walking was working up an appetite
I didn't mind the long walk too much though. It was a beautiful day and I was getting a chance to get the lay of the land.
Besides, this was nothing new. I was used to being hungry now and then. Not starving. Nan set a good table. But there wasn't always enough for seconds. And snacking was a foreign concept in our house.
Like Nan always said, dirt poor wasn’t just an expression.
But I made it here. I was going to college. The first in our family. All thanks to financial aid and several scholarships. Nan had always pushed me to work hard at school and it had paid off. I had earned both merit and hardship assistance. Even with that, I already owed more money than Nan's tiny house was worth. Or at least I would by the end of the year.
Never mind how deep I would be in the hole after four years… it boggled the mind to think about it. For the thousandth time, I had misgivings about what I was doing. What if I couldn’t pay it back? What then, genius?
I hadn't even set foot on campus yet or learned one thing and I was already in over my head. Not just a little either.
Better make this count, girl.
I nodded to myself. I had a habit of making things count. Art class at school for one thing. Mrs. Craddock had developed a system of letting me stay after school to use all the supplies. I was her star pupil after all, and my teacher had known that money was hard to come by.
Those long afternoons practicing had earned me a spot in the coveted Fine Arts department, as well as provided the portfolio that had won me yet another scholarship in mixed media. I loved drawing, painting and sculpture, though I planned to major in Art History, and minor in fine art.
It was safer. Smarter. And lord knows I had to be smart. The cards were already sta
cked against me.
I was sweaty and tired by the time I set foot on campus. It was another hour before I found my dorm.
I stared up at the gray stone building. It was bigger than the courthouse back home. I squared my shoulders and climbed the three flights to my dorm room.
The hallway was bustling, with parents and kids everywhere. There were trunks and boxes and luggage clogging the way. I nudged my way through, trying to be polite about it.
I groaned as I rounded the last set of stairs, dragging my bags down the hallway behind me.
I pushed the door open to my room. It wasn’t empty. I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs as I took in the sight in front of me.
A pretty blonde girl was already arranging one side of the room. There were pink pillows everywhere. A sparkly pink lamp sat on the desk next to a laptop and printer.
The laptop was also pink.
I blinked and shifted self-consciously on my feet.
"Hi."
The blonde looked up with a friendly smile that quickly faded. She stared at me like I was a bug on the wall. Maybe I was.
"Hi. Krista, right?"
The girl was looking me over and obviously finding me lacking. I noticed she was staring at my shoes and lack of luggage.
Great. Here we go again.
I sighed, already resigned to being the odd girl out.
Nothing had changed after all.
I knew I looked like a wet rat at a pedigree dog show. That was the one of the reasons I kept to myself for the most part back home. That and the strange things that seemed to happen around me.
I’d most likely keep to myself here, new start or not.
It was just easier that way.
Plus, I didn't want anyone to figure out just how different I really was.
"Yes, I'm Krista. Are you Charisse?"
The girl nodded slowly. "It's pronounced Charrr-eeese."
"Okay."
I set down my bags and started unpacking. Charisse went back to doing the same. And that was that.
Chapter 5
Dean
"We're so proud of you, Son."
"Thanks Mom, Dad."
I hugged my mother then shook my father's hand with the firm grip I knew was expected. My mother kissed my cheeks, trying to hide the tears that were in her eyes. I watched as they got into the rented van and drove off. I was ashamed to admit how relieved I was when the taillights disappeared from view.
Not that I wouldn't miss them, at least in theory. My mother anyway. My father and I barely spoke as it was. He wanted me to excel in everything I did, and I gave him no complaints in sports or school. So he left me alone.
We both preferred it that way.
For the first time in my life, I would be free from his expectations. He wanted me to be something that I wasn't all that sure I wanted to be.
The Golden Boy. The Prodigal Son. The American Dream.
The truth was, I wanted to stand on my own two feet for once in my life. Who I was exactly… well, I wasn't in a rush to figure that out. Besides, I had a feeling that was still to be determined.
I could be a good person, and make something of myself. Or I could just as easily go down the road to rich douchenozzle land.
"Heads up, big D!"
My hands came up and closed around the bottle of cold beer one of my new roommates had just chucked out the window. Already there was music blaring. They must have been waiting for my parents to leave. I smiled and climbed the stairs to the suite.
I took one look around and shook my head.
This was going to be interesting.
A lot had happened in the ten minutes I’d been outside. Six or seven guys were sprawled on the sofas drinking out of plastic red cups and beer bottles. They were throwing footballs around the room while one guy flipped through what looked like a vast array of porn channels.
Apparently, the suite came with an extensive cable package.
I knocked the top off my beer and took a swig.
"Hey, man! Welcome to the pussy palace. You are going to get so much tail here, you have no idea."
A finger poked me in the chest and I grunted.
"You, my friend are going to be swimming in it."
I smiled and lifted my drink. There was a huge bowl full of condoms on the dining room table. I didn't say a word, though I thought it was a little bit crass to have them out in the open like that.
These guys acted like they’d never been with a girl before.
That had never really been a problem for me. Girls already threw themselves at me on a daily basis back in high school. And that was before I was on a nationally ranked college team.
I wasn’t too worried about getting a girl if I wanted one. The one girl I wanted was literally impossible to get. But that was because she wasn’t even real.
To be honest, all this posturing looked pretty desperate.
Not that I was going to say that. I wasn't an idiot after all. Nobody needed to know that I believed in being a gentleman instead of racking up as many hook-ups as possible.
I needed to be a part of the team and eventually if all went well, the leader. I wasn't going to start out by being a wet blanket or telling them they sounded like pigs.
I was hoping this wasn't a nightly occurrence though. We had our first practice in the morning. And I was here to get a degree too, not just a beer gut.
I made small talk while I finished my drink and went into my room to unpack. I had to de-Mommify my room.
I was not going to be the rich kid with matching decorative pillows on my first damn day.
Chapter 6
Krista
I heaved the huge stainless steel tub of mashed potatoes off the rolling metal caddy. It was at least thirty pounds of hot, steaming buttery goodness. I could smell it as I lowered it into the service counter.
Man, these athletes eat well…
There was nothing like this at the dining hall where I got my three meals a day. I knew I was lucky to get this assignment. The food in the dorm sucked.
And I could have been assigned there, staring my dorm mates in the face while I dished out sub-human food. I could see the cartoon version of it, with the students as wild animals, ready to eat anything that moved.
No, this was much, much better.
I was well aware that I’d landed one of the better work study slots, not that it was glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. Someone in the work study department must have taken a liking to me. I adjusted the cap covering my hair and retied my apron.
No, definitely not glamorous.
Or easy.
My muscles were already aching and I’d only been there for two hours of the six-hour shift. But there was a bright side to working in the athletic complex on the other side of campus. A really, really big bright side.
When you served the athletes, you got to eat what they ate. And they ate extremely well. Filet mignon, roast chicken, salmon and rice and steamed veggies for almost every meal. Eggs benedict with roasted ham most mornings. It was a far cry from what they served in the dorms. Which was mostly warmed over lasagna and wilted salads.
Yuck.
Oh yeah, working in the athletic center was a prized job for all the work study students.
Somehow, I’d lucked into the work slot twice a week, with a third 'floater' shift that took me where they needed me on campus. Catering special events on the weekends mostly. I’d already done a few meet and greets for various departments, serving booze to professors and department heads.
So far, those weren't bad either.
This was my first shift at the athletic center. The staff had been prepping and cooking since before I got there. Now the doors were open and it was time to serve. Another two hours and we’d close down. Then we would get a chance to eat the leftovers before clean up. Real food. As good as Nan made, or even better, just because of sheer amount of high quality meat.
My stomach growled audibly from the delicious smells filling the
room.
The players were starting to filter in now, standing in line. My manager handed me a scooper and I took my position in front of the mashed potatoes. They were real ones too, made with real butter and boiled potatoes. I hadn't had any that weren't from a mix since I was a little girl. Nan didn’t make them, but my mother had. I was looking forward to tasting the fluffy white concoction.
The only downside to the gig were the people I was there to serve. There was so much testosterone in the room, I could almost smell it. Big hulking guys that I was trying not to look at when they came to my station.
Thankfully for the most part, they just held out their trays and grunted.
More than once I felt eyes on me. The players walked down the line, mostly saying nothing. I kept my head down, even when one of them tried to make conversation.
He wasn't the last one either.
I was adept at side-stepping male attention for the most part. Boys seemed to act the fool around me more often than not. I’d learned to tune them out. Usually they gave up and moved on pretty quick without encouragement.
I wasn't fooled by flattery. Pretty didn't get you too far in this world. Smart was much better. Besides, I didn’t have the time or inclination to date.
For the most part, I was able to ignore the players, not even bothering to spare them a glance. They were just another part of the scenery, even if they did make me a bit nervous.
It was times like these I really wished I wasn’t an intuitive, as Nan called it. I could feel their halfhearted interest, and it was purely animalistic at best.
It certainly wasn't that I was putting out flirtatious vibes with my outfit. There was no way I looked hot in the uniform and plastic gloves. But apparently, I was cute enough for them to make a token effort.
That or they were starved for female companionship, which I highly doubted.
I never really thought too much about my looks. Nan had taught me not to put stock in being pretty. But I knew where I stood on the teenage food chain. It was hard not to, even if I hadn’t always picked up on other people’s moods and thoughts.
Original Witch (Dreamshifters Book 1) Page 2