Chapter Two – Wren
It’s strange to me, how people are supposed to go on with their lives as if they haven’t just experienced the worst thing ever. It makes you wonder what kind of pain everybody you pass on the sidewalk is hiding. I can’t be the only one with a messed-up life.
No boyfriend, and now no friends.
Dating long-term in high school meant I pulled back from most friendships—only because I didn’t have time for them, since I spent most of my time with Mike. Meghan lived just down the street, so it was easy to keep hanging out with her. I never thought…
No, I can’t keep thinking about them. It’s driving me insane.
Today marks a week from the start of fall semester, and I’m meeting with someone on campus, a girl who says she has a house two minutes off-campus and can use a roomie. She’s my age, nineteen, another sophomore at MSU. Sloane Karnagy.
I meet her at the student union, a large building pretty much smack-dab in the middle of campus.
She’s already sitting at one of the tables in the dining section of the wide-open first floor, sipping on a coffee and staring out of the nearby windows.
Even though fall semester hasn’t started yet, there are still people flitting about; you’d be surprised at how many.
When I spot her, I make a beeline for her and take the seat opposite her, saying a quiet, “Hi.”
Sloane turns her head toward me, her green eyes bright and vivid as she studies me.
She’s pretty; beautiful, even. Long, blond hair, with bone structure I’d kill for.
Her style is not like mine; while I wear an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans, she wears a tight white blouse and leggings.
If I have to guess, I’d say she’s more like the popular girls in high school, whereas I was the quiet girl in class who never really said much.
“Hey,” she says, sounding much cooler than me already. “Wren?” When I nod, she goes on, “I’m Sloane.”
All I do is nod again. God, I hate how awkward I feel. I’m not used to being outgoing, meeting and talking with new people. Obviously, I lived a sheltered life in my little bubble, oblivious to the two most important people screwing behind my back.
She chuckles. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Oh, um… I do, it’s just—” Just that I only talk around people who are close to me? That I’m an introvert? That I don’t do this stuff, ever? Take your pick. “It’s complicated.”
I can’t read her expression as she studies me. “I get that.”
No, there’s no possible way she does.
“So, complicated Wren, you’re looking for housing?” she asks before she takes a small sip from her coffee.
“Yes. I mean, I have a dorm room set up for next year, but… I can’t live with my old roomie anymore. I know it’s last-minute, but I’m really hoping to find somewhere else to live.” I bite my bottom lip as I fiddle with my hands on my lap.
She cocks her head at me. “Sounds like a long story. Care to share with the class?”
I haven’t told my parents exactly why we broke up.
If I tell this girl, this stranger, the truth…
it’d be the first time I’ve spoken it out loud.
Swallowing hard, I decide to rip the bandage off quickly and just say it: “I caught my best friend and my boyfriend together. My ex-best friend. I was going to room with her again, but I just can’t. ”
“Shit,” Sloane mutters with a frown. “That’s no friend. How long were you and the asshole together?”
Out of habit, I want to defend Mike. How pathetic is that? “About four years.”
“Fuck, that really sucks. They’re both rotten.”
Rotten. What a weird word to say, and yet I can’t argue with her; it suits them perfectly.
I muster up the courage to say, “I know it’s last-minute, but if you have a freaking broom closet, I’ll take it. Anything to get me out of that dorm room.”
“No broom closets, but I do have a spare bedroom you can take.”
I glance around, making it a point to notice she’s here, alone. “Your other roomies won’t mind?”
She chuckles at that. “It’s just me and Elias—my boyfriend. Nobody else. It’s a decent-sized house though, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”
I’d be moving in with this girl and her boyfriend. Two strangers. Am I ready for something like that? Can I handle it? Honestly, no matter what happens, it has to be better than living with that traitorous Meghan for another year.
“Your boyfriend won’t mind?” I ask, not wanting to step on her toes. Since infidelity is on my brain thanks to two jerks who I don’t want to think about anymore, the last thing I want to do is be where I don’t belong.
“He’s fine with whatever I want. I wouldn’t say he’s the nicest guy around, but I can keep him in line around you.” The smile she gives me makes me wonder just what she means by all that. “He’ll be on his best behavior around you, I promise.”
It’s not optimal, but… at this point, what other options do I have?
“What’s the rent?” If I have to get a job on campus, I’ll try. I’ll have my car this year, too—didn’t have it last year since freshmen aren’t allowed to bring their cars unless they’re commuting. All that to say: if I have to drive a little for a job, I totally can.
The laugh that flows from her is unlike any laugh I’ve ever heard. “There is no rent.”
I blink. “What?”
“I’m not renting the house. I bought it.
” When I only stare at her, slack-jawed, she goes on, “You did look me up before you came, didn’t you?
No? Wow. Well, you shared your baggage with me, so let me share mine with you: it’s all in the last name.
Karnagy. My dad raped my mom and killed her friends when she was only sixteen.
Mommy dearest went into a psych ward while my grandparents raised me—unfortunately, they’re both dead now, and I have the Karnagy fortune all to myself. ”
I think I hold my breath that entire time. The way she says it, so matter-of-factly, shocks me this way and that. I didn’t even think to search her. I did a quick glance at her profile and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Again, she chuckles, like her story is the most amusing thing. “Cat got your tongue? Is my story a little too intense for you?”
“No,” I lie, but I’m not comfortable with lying, so I quickly say, “yeah, a little. If you’re so rich then why take on a roomie?”
She shrugs. “I could practically feel the desperation in your post, so I wanted to try something different—to be nice.” Sloane lowers her voice for dramatic effect, as if she’s about to tell me the world’s biggest secret, “I’m usually not the nicest person around.”
Uh, that’s not a good thing to hear.
She must sense my thoughts, because she says, “Look, if you’re worried about me kicking you out in the middle of the semester, don’t. We can have a contract drawn up.” Her thin shoulders rise and fall once. “I’ve never had a girl roomie before. I’m curious.”
There are a million and a half reasons why I should get up and walk away from this girl. Okay, maybe not that many, but there are quite a few. Still, I don’t get up and tell her no. The only thing I say is, “Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeats. “Then let’s do this.” She stands. “If you’ve got time, I can show you the house now.”
I stand with her and, against my better judgment, say, “Sure.”
At this point, maybe I need to start making stupid decisions. Being smart about things got me where I am today. Trying to earn everybody’s approval led me to this. It’s a lot of work, even though you pretend it’s not, trying to be the best and impress everyone you meet.
Your parents. Your classmates. Even strangers.
Sloane and I walk out of the student union, across campus. Campus is surrounded by a busy four-lane street, so we have to wait until we’re given the light at the crosswalk before we continue. As we walk there, Sloane remarks, “Why do I have the feeling this is the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”
Do I radiate innocence and naivete? Ugh.
“It kind of is,” I say.
“Don’t worry. If you want help getting out of your shell, you’ve come to the right girl.” She sends a wicked grin my way, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly she means.
“You said there’s no rent, but… you do want some kind of monthly payment, don’t you? You have a mortgage or whatever—”
“You seriously should’ve looked me up. Being a Karnagy means I shit out money. So, no, I don’t have anything as pedestrian as a mortgage.” She chuckles. “Tell you what—as long as you agree to go out with me once a month, you don’t have to pay me a dime.”
We walk along a row of houses facing campus, all nicely-updated. “You’re kidding, right?”
Sloane shakes her head. “Nope. I don’t need your money. Keep it for…” She glances at me, at my baggy shirt. “New clothes or something.” She abruptly turns down a driveway, while I pause and glance down at my shirt.
It’s not that bad, is it? It’s just a t-shirt.
I hurry to catch up to her, and she pulls out a key, having unlocked the door by the time I reach her.
We step inside the house, and I’m greeted by a fresh, clean scent.
It’s like one of those recently-remodeled houses you see on those TV shows on HGTV.
Clean, white trim. Light-colored walls with a splash of color here and there in the form of hanging canvases. A wide-open kitchen.
“Wow” is all I can say as she leads me through the house.
“Workout room is in the basement—that’s where Elias spends most of his time, when he’s not in class or with me. He’s not a people person. He’s probably down there right now,” she rattles off before she leads me to the stairs.
The house isn’t overly large; it’s only two stories up, but it’s enough to have three bedrooms with three bathrooms up top, and a half-bath downstairs, along with a living room, a full-blown dining room, and a decent-sized patio out back.
We pass what must be Sloane’s room, and then Elias’s room—odd that they both have their own rooms and they’re together, but hey, whatever suits them, I guess. We come upon the room the furthest away from the stairwell, and she steps inside. “This would be your room.”
It’s about the same size as my bedroom at home. It’s empty, meaning there isn’t any furniture, unlike a dorm room, which comes with a bed, either a dresser or a closet, and a desk. This just has a closet.
Hmm. I don’t really want to move my whole bedroom set here. Maybe I can buy a cheap futon or something to sleep on.
“Well?” Sloane asks. “What do you think?”
I step inside the empty room, glancing around at it. The old me would say a confident no, but the old me… what good is she? What good has she done? She’s a pushover. She’s pathetic.
She’s as good as dead to me.
So, I say the only thing I can: “I’ll take it. When can I move in?”
And that’s how I end up living in a house just off-campus with two strangers.
I move in that Saturday. My parents want to help, but I keep reaffirming that I can do it myself.
I don’t tell them I’m not moving into the dorm with Meghan; they have no idea I’m living off-campus with a girl whose father was a serial killer.
Oh, yeah, I looked her up. Let’s just say the little story she told me isn’t the half of it.
And what’s even better? I’m so busy I don’t have the time to sit and cry. It’s a win-win for me, in that respect.
On the day of the move-in, I meet Elias for the first time before he and Sloane help me unload my packed-to-the-brim car.
“Wren, this is Elias,” Sloane introduces me to her muscular boyfriend. He stands just behind her, a frown on his face as he takes me in, acting totally unimpressed with me. “Elias, this is our new roomie, Wren.”
Elias is a handsome, six-foot-tall jock, with thick black hair and equally black eyes. The way he stands so close to Sloane makes me feel as if he has no interest at all in me—which is totally fine. It’s what I want, actually.
“Hey” is all he says, and all I say back to him is a semi-awkward “Hi.”
And that’s that.
Sloane and Elias aren’t like my parents; they don’t need to talk to fill the silence as they help me unload and bring everything to my new room.
Plus, with Elias’s muscles, all the heavier stuff is no problem at all.
Honestly, we make damn good time. My car is totally unloaded by the time lunch rolls around.
I try not to stare at them too hard when we’re working, but I do catch traded looks between Sloane and Elias. They look happy together. Their eyes twinkle when they look at each other, and it stings a bit. I wouldn’t say I’m jealous, but…
No, no, I am jealous. I’m jealous, upset, hurt, and still so betrayed.
“You don’t have a bed,” Sloane remarks, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.
“Next time I go to the store, I’ll buy an air mattress or something,” I say as I unzip one of the many bags of clothes I brought. My fashion sense might not be anything to write home about, but that didn’t stop me from bringing way more clothes than I’ll ever need. Same with shoes.
“I can have Elias bring my bed in here—”
“No,” I say quickly, giving my new roomie my best smile. “That’s okay. Please, don’t. You’re already doing so much for me.”
“A bed’s a bed. Besides, most nights, I’m in Elias’s, anyway.”
I keep shaking my head no until she relents and disappears, leaving me to unpack in peace.
Later that night, when my room is sort-of put-together and all of my clothes are either folded neatly or hanging in the closet, I sit in the corner of the dark room and lean my head back against the wall.
Through the nearby window, a shred of moonlight shines inside.
There’s so much more room here than I would’ve had in the dorms, but without a bed, it really does feel empty.
The room isn’t the only thing that’s empty. I am, too. I’m empty, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever hurt this badly before in my entire life.
Up until last week, my life was just fine.
Bereft of tragedy. Never been to a funeral.
Still have all four grandparents. My parents are still together and happy, and I have a little sister that doesn’t piss me off.
I had what I thought was a relationship that would last all throughout college, a guy I genuinely thought I’d marry at some point.
I know I’m young. I know most high school relationships don’t make it the distance. I might be naive, but I never thought I was stupid. But, like most people my age, I guess I thought we would be the exception. That we meant more than that.
I’m the biggest joke around, aren’t I?