Chapter 3 The Second Row
Chapter three
The Second Row
Jasmine Chamberlain
“New year, new me,” I say into my vanity mirror as I secure a hair tie around my curls.
My first college experience last week might not have gone as planned, but today is a new day. It’s a fresh start and opportunity for me to prove to myself and my family that I can accomplish something worthy of their sacrifices.
Once my hair is up, I rise from my vanity and immediately trip over a pile of shoes I forgot I put there when I was choosing my outfit last night.
I cringe at the sight of my room. Boxes have exploded like mini volcanoes, with clothes hanging over the edge and spilling out onto the floor like lava.
My bed has a pile of potential outfit options on it.
I slept next to the mountain of fabric last night because I got too tired to put everything away.
“New year, work-in-progress me?” I amend my earlier statement as I bend down and grab my white sneakers.
After much inner debate and consulting my roommates for their opinions, I settled on a navy-blue matching set with flared leggings as the bottoms and a fitted camisole for the top.
I’ve topped the look off with a few gold necklaces layered against my collarbone and some matching bracelets on my wrist, along with my smartwatch.
I’m balancing on one foot, slipping on my right shoe, when my watch starts to buzz. I drop my foot and glance at the screen to see my sister’s name. I press the green answer button.
“Good morning!” Dahlia sings before I can even say hello. “It’s your first day! How does it feel to be a freshman in college?”
I look around my messy room. “Not as different as I thought it would be.”
Dahlia laughs. “That’s usually how things go. What are you wearing? Can you video chat?”
I get my shoe on, then scan the room for my phone. It’s around here somewhere…
“Let me find my phone, then yes.”
I hear my brother-in-law, Levi, chuckle. “How do you lose your phone so often?” he asks. Judging by the art on the walls behind them, they must be in Dahlia’s office at work. Levi is a homicide detective, and Dahlia is the unit’s therapist.
“It’s a talent, an art form, really,” I say into my watch as I pull aside my mountain of clothes and tangled-up blankets.
“It would be easier to find it if your room wasn’t a wreck.” Dahlia laughs.
“My room is pristine, thank you very much.” I snag my phone from underneath my cheer practice uniform. “Got it!”
I press the video button on my call screen, and Dahlia’s face appears. Sure enough, she’s on the rust-colored couch in her office, smiling brightly next to her husband.
“I’ve missed your face,” she coos.
I smile and shake my head. “I’ve only been gone a couple of days.”
And it feels like a lifetime. My roommates are great, but they’re not my sister.
There were times over the past few days I wished I would have stayed home with them and commuted to school, but I know this is what’s best. When our parents died in a tragic accident, Dahlia rearranged her life for me.
She had to be my sister and my parent, which was difficult.
I didn’t make it easy on her in the beginning either.
Now, she’s married, and she deserves to have her own life without her baby sister taking up space.
“Even Levi said this morning that he missed you,” Dahlia adds.
I shoot my brother-in-law a pointed look. “You only miss my cooking.”
He laughs. “I’ll admit, that’s part of it, but it’s not all of it.”
I smile. “I miss y’all too, but I’m doing great here. The girls are the best, and we’ve got great neighbors.”
I did bring them cookies to sway them to like us, so I’m sure that helped.
The people above us, however, like to pretend their floor is a trampoline at two in the morning.
But hey, that’s apartment life for you. I got accustomed to the unique brand of ambiance when I lived in a complex with my sister for the first few years after our parents died.
Maybe if I went up and brought them cookies, they’d stop pretending to be a thunderstorm when we’re trying to sleep.
“That’s great, Jaz.” Dahlia’s smile makes her eyes crinkle at the edges. “Now, show me the outfit before I have to start work.”
I prop her up on my vanity and ignore the snort that comes through when she sees my tornado of a room. I spin in a circle for her.
“I know it’s on the basic side, but—”
“It’s so cute! And very true to you. I love the sparkle the jewelry adds.”
Dahlia’s style is much more colorful than mine. She loves patterns, bright colors, and statement pieces. Meanwhile, most of my closet consists of items I could also wear to the gym, and I choose matching sets whenever I shop so that I don’t have to make outfits.
“Thanks,” I say, and pick up my phone again.
“Make sure you bring a jacket in case it’s cold in one of the buildings,” she says.
I nod.
“And don’t forget your water bottle, keys, and lip balm. Oh, and you can put your schedule as your phone background so you can—”
Levi’s hand slides over Dahlia’s mouth. “She’s got it, Doll,” he says in a low voice. “Let her be.”
She glares up at him. I giggle. Seeing my sister in love and taken care of still hasn’t gotten old. After all that she went through, she deserves it.
“Thanks, Levi.” I glance at the time at the top of my phone screen. “I should probably get going. I’m going to try to grab a coffee before my first class.”
“No need,” Levi says with a knowing smile.
A knock sounds at the door.
“That’s for you,” Dahlia says once Levi lowers his hand. “We sent your favorite over, plus some pastries to share with your friends.”
My throat grows tight. It’s a small gesture, but it shows how much they love and care for me, even when I sometimes feel like I don’t deserve it.
“I love y’all.”
Dahlia grins. “We love you more. Have a good first day! Text me all the details.”
I nod. We say a few more goodbyes on my way to the front door, then I hang up. Outside the door is a bag from the Sweet Bean, one of Atlanta’s best coffee shops, and an iced coffee with a thick layer of cinnamon on top.
“There are pastries for everyone in the kitchen,” I call out after kicking the door shut.
I hear muffled thanks from my roommates.
Everyone is likely getting ready. Saylor said she would have a color-coded calendar ready with all our schedules on it by tonight, but until then, I don’t know what times everyone will be here or not.
It’s been weird settling into living with people other than Dahlia and Levi, but I’m hopeful for the year to come.
I hurry to my room to grab my backpack and check that my laptop and file folder are in there.
Then I throw my keys, a lip balm, and a Thrashers sweatshirt inside and zip up the plain black bag.
With my bag packed to Dahlia’s standards, I head back to the kitchen to get a water bottle, pastry, and coffee.
“I’m heading to class,” I yell as I pull a cinnamon roll out of the bag and set it on a napkin. The sticky, sweet icing coats my fingers. I lick it off and make sure to grab a few napkins.
Saylor’s door opens and she pokes her head out. Her shiny blonde hair is up in curlers, and she has brown streaks of contour around the perimeter of her face. “Have a great day! I’ll be home by five, and after I organize all my syllabi and set up my planner, I’ll color-code our apartment calendar.”
“Sounds great,” I say with a little laugh.
Saylor is the most systemized and regimented human I’ve ever met.
She spent our first few days in the apartment organizing every room she was allowed into.
I told her not to worry about helping with mine, but I’m now regretting my decision.
I’m sure I’d be a lot further along if I had her supervising.
I wanted to do it myself as a part of the new me life, but I quickly fell short.
Again. My track record is splendid thus far.
She disappears back into her room. Marigold and Aurora’s doors don’t open, so I head out.
The entire building is abuzz with first-day jitters.
The lobby seems busier than ever, and the pathways outside are no different.
My stomach flips. I practiced my route more than once, but it’s more intimidating to navigate the campus when it’s so alive with people.
Every building is a monolith of brick and ivy, and all of the students seem to know exactly where they’re headed.
No one is squinting at the campus map on their phone.
Sunlight beams down on me like a spotlight.
Can they all tell I’m a freshman? I bet they can.
I take a sip of my iced coffee, though I’m not sure caffeine is needed, given that my heart is already pounding in my chest. Suddenly, the cinnamon roll in my hand isn’t appetizing; it’s just an obstacle in the way of me checking my phone for where to go.
I draw in a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out.
My sister taught me the breathing exercise when I first dealt with anxiety during my junior year of high school.
She wanted to help me even more, but I didn’t want to put anything else on her shoulders.
The breathing exercise helps slow my racing thoughts, though, and I’m able to recall the route I walked before without trashing my breakfast.
One long walk of dodging other students and trying to look confident later, I manage to find the building for my first class with five minutes to spare.
I make a note to thank Dahlia and Levi, because if I would have tried to get coffee myself, I wouldn’t have made it in time.
And while my room might be a mess, I take first impressions very seriously.
I can’t have the professor thinking I’m incapable of reading a simple map.
A blast of AC makes me sigh in relief as I enter through the revolving door of the building.
I wind my way through the stream of students, getting bumped by backpacks and the occasional reusable water bottle.
Eventually, I find the lecture hall for the Entrepreneurial Marketing class.
My chest rises as I draw in another deep breath, then push open the door wearing my best cheerleader smile.
Inside, the professor, Dr. Poulter, smiles back at me. I look at the tiered seating, intent on snagging a seat in the second row. The first row looks too eager, but the second row shows dedication to the subject. My smile falters when I see there’s only one seat left in the row.
And it’s next to Shepherd Kinglsey.