by Tijan
“I’ll show you your room, yeah?”
Savannah ducked her head down, indicating past the two living rooms and into what looked like the kitchen. I followed, holding my box still on my hip. I wanted to have a hand free. You never knew when you’d have to push another Mean Girl aside so she didn’t trample you.
A few more people were in the kitchen. The dining room adjacent. An attached patio from there.
She led the way past the people standing by the sink. One was a shorter girl with sleek brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a wide smile. She saw Savannah, the smile remained, then her eyes tracked to me, to the box, to my backpack, and the smile dimmed. Dramatically. It was damn near gone as Savannah walked past her, reaching out, a hand tapping the girl’s arm in hello. The girl had been talking to another guy, another meathead-type. He had on khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and a beer in hand. He reached forward, touching the girl’s waist, but she stiffened. And hissing, she stormed past us, those frosty eyes on me. She almost clipped me at the shoulder, but I was ready. Free hand and all. It was a good thing she swung out of the way at the last minute, or I would’ve shoved her right into her guy.
Savannah turned toward what looked like the garage door.
My room was in the garage? For real?
She motioned to me, her smile now forced and pasted on. “Down here.”
Down here was a door that went to the basement, and once we were down there, it was a lot quieter. I almost sagged in relief.
She noticed, her eyes crinkling. “Not one for parties?”
“Not one for people who don’t want me here.”
Had I… Oh shit. I had.
I clamped that free hand—see, I knew there was a practical use for it—over my mouth. I was blaming the lack of sleep and sheer will that had me driving across five states in two days. “I’m sorry,” I said with my hand still over my mouth, so it was awkwardly moving with my lips. “I didn’t mean that.”
She snorted, turning to the right. “Why not? I would’ve said worse.” She motioned ahead. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.”
She went through what looked like a section of the basement that had been turned into an apartment. There was a kitchenette area. A medium-sized fridge. A tiny sink. A tiny oven that my grandma might’ve used in the ’30s. There were two tables. One was decked out with a red plaid plastic tablecloth, and another that was simply a brown round table. A few chairs around each. She motioned to a room attached to the kitchen, to the left of the stairs. “That’s Lisa’s room.” Her eyes flicked upwards. “The one we just passed by.”
Oh.
Lovely.
We’d braid each other’s hair and exchange best friend beads, that much I was sure of.
Then Savannah was continuing on, going through the kitchen and into another room. It wasn’t separated by a door, just a half-wall partition, and this room was obviously a game room. An old pool table. A foosball table. Even a bar tucked in the corner.
She kept straight, continuing on to a door on the other side of the room.
Dread lined my insides and she opened the door and stepped inside.
There was no more house to go.
I couldn’t be in that room. It was literally right next to a party room. There was a bar, for fuck’s sake.
But I stepped to the doorway and peeked in.
The room was bare. A bed in the corner. An empty nightstand.
“Come in.”
I did, and she shut the door.
A desk was built into the wall behind the door with shelves above that. A dresser was beside it.
Another door was attached on the far end of the room. I assumed it was the closet.
It wasn’t.
She opened it and stepped through. “Okay. So. I know this room sucks. I do. Char left and everyone shifted rooms. You got stuck with this one. And I’d like to say we never use that room, but we do. And I know I didn’t answer your question above, but we do. Often. We’re big into football.” She seemed to hesitate, biting her lip, before rushing on. “But here’s the upside of this room.”
She stepped out of the way, pointing ahead. “You get your own bathroom.” She knocked on the door to her left. “This is the furnace room/water heater room/your closet.” She swept it open and there was a hanging rod put up. A lovely closet. Sort of.
“But…” She shut that door, and there was one last one (I was hoping) behind her. She opened it and I was looking up at a set of stairs. “You have your own entrance and exit as promised, and just beyond that door, down the fence line, is a parking spot that’s all yours. Nicole, one of the roommates you didn’t meet, her uncle owns this house. We’ve been living here every year since after our first semester freshman year. And Char leaving, it struck a chord. She never told us she wasn’t coming back until she called last night.”
“Last night?”
Was that my voice? That high-pitched squeak?
She nodded, her eyes heavy. “Yeah. And she informed us she got us a new roommate, a Dusty (we shouldn’t make fun of her name because she seems lovely), and we were supposed to forward all her bills. Seems she decided to spend a semester abroad with a boyfriend none of us knew about.”
I gulped. “I applied to come here two weeks ago.”
She grimaced. “When’d you meet Char?”
Oh. Lovely. Again, so sarcastic here.
“I didn’t. I answered an ad.”
Her eyes bulged out. “An ad?” Her voice was squeaking like mine.
I nodded. This wasn’t good. This so wasn’t good.
“I didn’t know I was walking into this.”
Savannah clasped her arms over herself, hugging the ends of her elbows. “Us either. And Lisa and Mia’s reactions, Char was the closest to them. They’re not mad at you. They don’t know you. They’re mad at Char. You get it.”
I did. I placed my box down, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look. I don’t know anyone else here. I’m transferring into my junior year. I get that you guys don’t want me here, but I’m here. I’m good for the rent and I already paid Char for the first month’s rent.”
Her mouth clamped shut and her cheeks got red.
Oh no.
“Tell me she forwarded that to you guys?”
“She didn’t. No.”
No. Nope. I couldn’t speak. “So I paid…”
I trailed off at her look, again.
“Char never sent us money. She lied to you. My guess, she kept the money.”
Oh, now I was mad at Char, too.
I groaned. It was just my luck. Fuck’s sake. Again.
“Um.” Savannah edged toward the door. “So, yeah. You’ll have to pay again. And I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll get your key, too.” She paused, looking down. “Sorry about Char being a bitch, and a thief.”
Sorry. Right. That wasn’t super helpful for this month’s rent.
Another roar sounded from above, and we could hear them yelling out, “INTERCEPTION! YES!”
She gave me an uneasy grin, pointing upwards. “Feel free to come and hang out. We’ve got lots of pizza and beer.”
Then she beat it. I was fairly certain I saw her kicking up dust behind her, pun so not intended there. She couldn’t get out of here fast enough. And to a degree, I got it. I understood it. I felt for her, but she left, shutting that door, and I let out the biggest sigh in my life. Or the second longest sigh in my life. But I guess it was better than tears.
Here I was. At a school I’ve never toured. In a house I’ve never seen. Living with people I’ve never met. In a state that I never thought I’d even visit.
Fuuuuuck.
My phone beeped at that moment.
Gail: You should look up Stone since you’re there. I saw his mother in the supermarket, told her you were in the same city now. She didn’t seem too keen, but I bet Stone would love to hear from you.
And, oh yeah.
Did I mention that I knew Stone Reeves? Personally.
; No? Well, it didn’t matter.
I hated him even more than I hated Char at this moment.
Chapter Two
It was a long evening, followed by an even longer night.
Learning the way from my own entrance to my car, I pulled to the back where my parking spot was. The walk was slightly shorter, and noting how big this football party was, I was surprised I’d even gotten that spot. The backyard had people spilling out of it, but not as many. Two smaller circles and the same thing as the front yard. No one paid me a bit of attention.
That wasn’t true. A few guys watched me. One started to come over to help, but Mia, the Gazelle Mean Girl, grabbed his arm and shook her head in a quick and savage motion. He resigned himself to sitting at their picnic table and just watching me. Every time I went back and forth, he took a drink. I noticed the whole table did that, too.
Great.
I’d been turned into a drinking game.
That was the only time Mean Gazelle had smiled for real. She was enjoying my humiliation.
Whatever. I trudged back and forth, shouldering my boxes and bags. I didn’t have a ton of stuff, but enough that it took five different trips, and once I was done, I eyed the shower and the bed. I was torn, but my stomach growled.
The coffee had been my breakfast and lunch, and I knew myself. If I took a shower, or lay down, I wouldn’t want to get up till way later, and then I’d have a whole day go by without eating. Sighing, I washed up a tiny bit, then grabbed my purse and headed out to grab some food.
There was a fast food place a few blocks away, so I loaded up. I’d have to find a grocery store tomorrow, and get real food, but until then, I had two chicken sandwiches to tide me over.
After that, with their cheering and booing upstairs, I settled in.
I showered. I ate. I made my bed.
I began to unpack, and then around ten that night, I sat at my desk, hearing blissful silence above.
Well, that was following a bunch of yelling, feet stomping, doors opening and closing, then voices outside, and car doors shutting.
They had left the building.
What’d I do? Remain in my bedroom like a good little unwanted thing. It felt wrong going upstairs and checking out the rest of the house when I knew at least two of the girls didn’t want me here, so I pulled out my school map and planned my day for tomorrow.
It was the first day of classes, and I was registered, but I still needed to go and do all the extra stuff like get my picture taken for my I.D. Actually, get the I.D. Set up a meal plan since they were requiring one because of my late acceptance. Get my books at the store. Find the library, that was the most important. And then just walk the campus, find where all my classes were going to be.
Since I was switching to marine biology, I was excited for the lab portion of the classes. I did the prerequisites at the community college near where I grew up, so those were all done and aced, but I knew it would be harder at this level. I was still surprised I’d gotten into Texas C&B, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I was here. I was doing it.
I’d always wanted to be a marine biologist since I was little, and this was the right time to pursue it. My other career choices fell away. Counseling. A language interpreter. A speech pathologist. They hadn’t been the ones I really wanted, and life was short. I’d learned that a few times by now, so I was embracing it with both hands, but leaving my feet firmly planted on the ground.
Tired, but feeling an odd contentment, I crawled into bed at midnight.
Boom!
Thud!
“Fuck,” someone yelled.
More feet shuffling above.
I could hear the laughter.
They were back. I was guessing they’d gone to a party or the nearest bar.
Rolling over in bed, pulling my sheet up around me, my fan pointed right on me, I waited and hoped. Maybe they’d eat, do whatever drunk people did, and then go to bed.
Boom, boom, boom!
They turned on music. Loud bass pounded through the floorboards. I could almost hear them rattling, so I rolled over and did what any girl in my place would do. I muffled a scream into my pillow. It was a full-body scream, too. Even my toes got into it, twitching. I needed sleep. Like bad. Like I would get sick if I went too many nights in a row without a full eight hours, and let’s not get into why I wasn’t getting my sleep. That tied into the whole reason I came to Texas, but I know people would say they could survive off four hours a night. Yes. I could, too, but not five nights in a row. I was on night six.
I. Needed. My. Sleep.
But really, what was I actually going to do? I was the interloper here. I’d have to endure, and I did. Until four in the morning. And even after that, the music was lowered but it was still a soft beat until finally, I drifted off to sleep. I swear, I went to sleep dreaming about Stone throwing his football down on my head each time, and it corresponded with the techno music blaring through my alarm clock.
My alarm clock.
It was going off.
And waking, realizing that particular dream had been a nasty one, I sat up and I was in pain. A supersonic nap would be needed later on. Pronto. Stat. Don’t get me started. I was feeling a bit punchy here.
After showering and dressing, the phone started in. It was Gail. Again.
This time I accepted and knew this would take a while. I sat down. I needed to preserve my energy here.
“Hi, Gail.”
“Sweetie!” Her voice was loud, and she was forcing a Southern accent. I didn’t know why. She wasn’t Southern. Never had been. “How ahr y’all?”
This was Gail. I didn’t need to reply.
She was already onto the next question. “How waas your drive? I hoped you took it easy. That’s a long way to drive by yourself. Your father left to have coffee with the men in town. You know how it is. He loves that coffee time. And how are y’all feahling today? Excited? Your classes start todaaay. Have you gotten in touch with Stone yet? He’s a big deal down there. I’m sure he’d be happy to show you the ropes, show y’all some places, maybe the best places to eat. You know.”
One, Stone was a big deal everywhere in this state.
Two, he wouldn’t be happy to show me the ropes. He loathed me more than I hated him, and that said a lot.
And three, I had a fealing my dad was sitting right next to her. He loathed going to get coffee with the men in town as much as Stone and I despised each other.
But, there was an upside to my relationship with Gail. I barely had to speak. It was mostly a one-sided dynamic, and to prove this, Gail kept right on chatting. She would exhaust herself, do both parts of our conversation so it went how she wanted it to go, and once she was happy she’d end the call.
Which is what she was doing right now.
“Stone is such a sweet boy.”
He was an arrogant prick.
“And you know, that family. They fell on hard times, too.”
His family was rich, and because he could, his dad fired mine shortly after turning their grocery store into a franchise.
“And Barb, she just looks so amazing. Her skin was glowing. She looks like she has trimmed down, too.”
Barb was haggard looking.
Stone’s mom was skinny because she smoked and drank champagne every day. Once every couple days, she’d throw in a piece of chicken, maybe a salad with that. And I knew this because we’d been their neighbors until we were forced to sell the house, and once upon a time, Stone and I had been great friends. I’d been at their house a lot growing up. All that changed once we hit puberty, of course, but Barb just kept getting skinnier and more gaunt-looking.
And people talked.
I mean, not Gail (in this circumstance.) She was almost the anti-gossiper here. She was literally spewing the opposite of what was true, but if she wanted to believe all of this, who was I to correct her? This was what she was choosing to think. So be it.
And by the end, after s
he was losing speed, I only murmured, “Sounds good, Gail. I should get going.”
“Oh. Okay. Have a great day, suh-weedie! Your father and I are thinking about you today. Call tonight. Let us know how Stone is when you see him.”
I wouldn’t do any of that, and she knew that. My dad knew it. And she would call tomorrow, repeating all the same until she would’ve convinced herself that I had reached out to Stone, that he and I were friends again, and she would go on thinking how amazing I was doing in Texas.
Chapter Three
“You need a bigger meal plan.”
The lady behind the desk wasn’t getting it. Red-rimmed glasses. Just as red-rimmed lips, pursed together in a slight scowl, I could tell she’d already had her fill of new students, and it was only nine in the morning.
I pushed the paper back. “That’s all I can afford.”
Her eyes snapped back to mine, but there was no flicker of emotion. She pushed the paper right back. “You’re a junior and you have off-campus housing. That’s all fine, but since it’s your first semester, you still have to abide by incoming freshman guidelines. You need to do either the meal plan above what you picked or the next one up. You cannot pick the option where you get one meal on campus a month.”
“I live off-campus.”
“I’m aware. It’s in your file. You also were accepted late, and because of that, you’ve been put in the incoming freshman program. A daily meal plan is your only option.”
She. Did. Not. Get. It.
I leaned forward, abundantly aware of how many students behind me who were either annoyed because I was taking longer than the average two minutes allotted, or they were eavesdropping and enjoying my further humiliation. Either way, I wasn’t taking the meal plan because I couldn’t afford it.
I lowered my voice, my hands gripping my backpack straps that circled around my shoulders. “I can’t afford to go higher.”
She leaned forward, lowering her voice, too. “It’s just a semester. You can have no meal plan next semester.”