2. chapter two
chapter two
send my love to the roommate gods
A ny minute now, I’m sure I’ll bolt upwards in my bed, gasping for airand being kindly reminded by the sounds of crashing waves, and the buckets of sunlight being dumped through the window that I was still stuck in a life I never wanted.
Any minute… It’ll happen.
My eyes, sleep hanging from the corners, will crack open and realisewhere I am way before my mind does. For a second, the dread that pools in my stomach on a never-ending cycle won’t be there. And I lived for those moments; when I woke up and for one second I’d forget about the world that lived outside of these four walls and four poster bed. I’d forget that I’d have to spend the day walking in shoes that never fit me; the shoes never fit my sister when they belonged to her either.
But before I know it, I’ll be back there on a set, someone will callaction, and I’ll be left to say the tears rolling down my cheeks are simply method acting.
That’s what I’m telling myself as I rediscover my consciousness, asmy hands roam the bed sheets that are still clinging onto the notes of honeysuckle and strawberry. Thankfully, it’s not the sickly kind that smells more like the factory it was made in than an actual strawberry; this smell is subtle, like rolling around in a wicker basket full of freshly picked berries.
The thought makes my stomach growl—one that tells the world thatI hadn’t actually eaten dinner last night, having spent my time getting ready for the concert. And it’s the nerves, I think, of actually being here. In a dorm room. With a girl whom I’d only known for eighteen hours. It seemed my appetite, which was usually like a Mary Poppins bag, had vanished ever since landing at JFK yesterday morning.
“We’ll miss you, Marigold. I don’t know what I’m going to do withoutyou.” My mother’s words echo in my mind, the final boarding call for my flight weaving between her words.
“Promise you’ll call us when you land. Promise me, Marigold?” My dadasked, handing me my luggage.
The mental image of them, both at the bottom of the escalator I’dhopped onto, waving me goodbye with tears breaching their eyes, was the final thing that projected in my mind as my eyes cracked open.
The room felt strange at first, its blank walls and newness pressingin on me, the unease settling on my chest like the weight of my blankets. I drew a shaky breath, the air in my lungs tight.
If it had been heavier—just a little heavier—I might’ve stayedburied beneath the covers, grabbed my half-unpacked suitcase, and abandoned the closet space I’d barely claimed. I’d be on the first plane back to California before the city even woke up.
If the flutters of nerves that were dancing around my stomach hadmade me incapable of moving, I would have called my parents right this second and told them that they were right to throw me into acting. They were right to decide my future while I was too young to have my own opinions.
But, luckily for me, the panic in my chest only dissipated the more Iremembered where I was. The flutters halted once I heard the sequence of car horns and the native sounds of New York City filtering in from outside. And just like the world could feel the happiness radiating off me, a beam of sunlight slipped through the drawn curtains, awakening every joint and muscle in my body that had me wanting to jump out of bed.
“Do you normally wake up smiling like a lunatic? Or do I need to callan ambulance?”
I twist my head to the side; the smile I had no idea was on my facefalling as I locked eyes with Daisy. Her blonde curls were even wilder than they were at the end of last night, cascading down her back as she propped herself up on her elbows, in a bed that was identical to mine and only a few feet away.
“Well,” I ponder, twisting in my sheets to face her. “I’ve nevershared a room with anyone before, so I could potentially always wake up smiling, but I’ve just never known about it.” I shrug at her, my eyes scanning the room, thinking about what that would mean if I always woke up smiling, what part of my brain had to be active to do such a thing.
"How about this?” she yawns, as both of her legs swing off her bed and land onthe wooden floor, before she reaches over to our shared bedside table to grab her glasses, putting the big, circular things on a moment later. “If I wake up before you tomorrow, I’ll let you know.”
“And if I do wake up smiling?”
My eyes hover over her as she stands up, her beige, plaid pyjamaset catching the sunlight as she pulls open the curtains. The light does nothing but illuminate the smirk growing on her face as she replies, “Then I’ll be marching us both down to reception to see if I can trade dorm mates for someone who isn’t a lunatic.”
I shake my head at her and mutter, “And I was just beginning tolike you.” Before she dashes me a smile and heads for our kitchen.
Kitchen is probably the wrong word. Even calling the three cabinets,mini fridge, and half a stove a kitchenette was being generous.And I was confident that my hopes of romanticising the space would start and end with cute coffee syrup dispensers that took up most of the worktop. Thinking that, I made a mental note to delete my 'dorm kitchen inspo' board from my Pinterest. Nothing aesthetic was happening in that tiny kitchen.
But it’s your tiny kitchen, Goldie.
“Do you want some coffee?” Daisy stole my attention, my eyesfalling on her and the drip coffee pot we decided to set up last night, then vowing, after both burning our mouths and nearly hurling the sips back up from how bad it tasted, to save for an upgrade as quick as we could.
I gave her the same disgusted look that was plaguing her face fromacross the room, which had been all smiles since we met. “You know, Pin’s isn’t too far from here. How about we treat ourselves to some good coffee?”
Holding the coffee pot like it’ll explode any second, Daisy slides thething back into it’s resting place, where I’m sure it will stay for the rest of the semester. The rest of the year, actually. Just as the pot dings into place, she turns to me, her sage doe eyes wandering the room before they land on me; at the same time, her brows knit together, and the corner of her mouth quirks up. “What’s ‘Pin’s?”
My elbows scoot me up as I rest on them. “You know… the Rolling PinBakery.” I say, more like a question.
My roommate pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and after amoment of silence, she shakes her head at me. “Never heard of it.”
I don’t think I’ve ever leapt out of bed faster than when she saidthat, only slowing down once the sting in my knees reminded me of the gashes. A montage from last night played in my mind—the unforgettable moments I’d cherish even at ninety, blurred with the chaos that left behind those red imperfections. Though I suppose the scars were a better souvenir than a t-shirt I’d never wear.
I bolted my eyes back to Daisy, surprise that she hadn’t heard ofthe soon-to-be international sensation that was The Rolling Pin waking me better than the alarm that never went off. “You’ve never heard of it?” I ask, sympathy coating my words.
“Nope.”
Stretching up from my bed, I squint my eyes at her as she stands to her full height. She was around five-seven, and had the most prominent hips, like me, which made the conversation we’d had about potentially sharing clothes all the more exciting.
“Where did you say you were from again?” I ask.
“Montana.” She replies, the subtle Western murmur in her voicebeing answer enough.
Her answer rang in my ears again.
Montana: known for its otherworldly landscape, mountains that takeyour breath away, cowboys that do the same, and being one of the few states I knew of without a branch of The Rolling Pin.
I let my head fall forward as a smile bloomed across my face.
“What is it?” Daisy laughs, the sound forcing my head back up toface her."Lunatic?" Her brows arch. "Ambulance?"
I shake my head, my smile cementing. “I’m about to change yourlife.”
“Should I be scared?” More breathy laughs wove between her wordsas she wanders over to the closet. Our closet, I suppose.
Heading over to the fridge to grab myself some water, I stopped asI passed her, “Your wallet should be scared. Because after today, I promise you that’s where most of your money will go.”
As I visualise my savings account descending ever so quickly, a thankful pang chimes in my heart.
The fact that I got to be excited about bonding with a roommatebefore my first day at Liberty Grove made the imaginary cartoon hearts float over my head, and a smile I never wanted to forget the feel of stretch across my mouth.
The fact that, in just a few hours, I’d be sitting in a class andtyping up notes that I’d look back on during my first midterm made the last bit of panic about being on my own and going after my dreams disappear, like mist off a waterfall.
These little moments—they’re everything I’ve been dreaming ofsince the second I saw what path my parents had planned for me.
“I don’t know,” Daisy started, stealing my attention back as sheshopped the clothes we’d hung up. “If I’m gonna form an addiction to this place, I think I’d rather drink the poisoned caffeine over there.” She laughs, raising a thumb over her shoulder.
After a few gulps of water, I screw the lid back on my bottle andthrow the thing on my bed before joining her in front of the closet. “It’ll be an addiction that’s worth it. Trust me.”
Laughter that felt like the nervous kind slipped from her smile, butthen, out of nowhere, her hands stop pulling at the chunky cardigan she was clinging onto, and her body goes still. I don’t have time to ask her if she’s okay before she’s turning her back to me and casually heading over to her bed, her hands scrambling to find something.
Before I can guess what she’s looking for, suddenly her left hand isgripping a gold pen, and in her right hand is… a tissue.
And then it clicks.
“More lyrics?” I ask her, doing nothing to hide how my smile onlygrows the more I watch her.
Something that sounds like an “Uh huh.” mixed with a “Yeah!” leavesher mouth, as her spine only curls further the longer she writes.
She’s done this three times now–stopped whatever it was she wasdoing to jot down the lyrics that had popped into her head. The first time she did it was in the candy aisle in 7/11, sacrificing her Red Vines to pull out her phone and open her notes app. The second time she did it was right before we fell asleep, scribbling away on the same tissue she was now.
If my eyelids didn’t feel like fifty-pound weights then I would’ve asked her there and then what on earth she was doing, but one quick look at the acoustic guitar perched at the end of her bed was all I needed to put two and two together.
“Sorry,” She breathes, pushing the tissue and pen under herblankets before skipping back over to the closet. “I swear, if I don’t write them down the second I think of them, they’ll never cross my mind again—wait.” My head springs up to face her. “How did you know what I was doing?”
I blow a quick laugh through my nose, before shifting and noddingmy head at her guitar. “That, and I think I heard your dad mention something about your music classes when he came by yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah.” Her voice felt flat as those words sneaked past hertight smile. “I’m sorry if he came off… rude, yesterday. If he didn’t have two kids to move into the dorms, then he would have said hello.”
I let the flowy white skirt I’d picked out go limp in my hand, as myhead swings to face her. “Two kids?” I ask, before watching Daisy nod and walk over to the bathroom door, my wide leg jeans, her chunky cardigan, and a cami that could’ve belonged to either one of us tucked up to her chest.
“My brother. Twin brother, Finn. He decided to be a copycat and chose to study at Liberty Grove right after I claimed it as my first choice.” She tucked a long curl behind her ear. “I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point.”
After a quick smile 1she headed into our bathroom, the slow trickle fromthe shower sneaking through the cracks under the door a second later.
I began pulling the thousand and one baby tees that I thought Ineeded to bring, finally deciding on a baby yellow one, when the text tone of my phone erupted from the bedside table. I padded my way over to it, starting to swap my pyjamas for today’s outfit as I pressed on the notifications that were starting to pile up.
The Girlies
Today at 7:28 AM
Cora
@goldie what time did you wanna meet again? i just wanna make sure we beat the crowds !!
Rory
@goldie she’s lying.
@rory i know she’s lying
Rory
she just wants to gawk at that cute Pin’s barista before his shift finishes
Cora
literally leave me alone
i am a woman with needs
SUE ME
but to answer your question we shouldn’t be too long !!
and i think daisy might be a keeper. she’s the nicest person ever.
Rory
yay !
Cora
well both of you hurry up because the pies will be sold out and the cute barista will be gone 3
Rory
@goldie there’s steam coming out of her bob
Cora
@rory i don’t wanna be roommates anymore
Goldie added Daisy to The Girlies
As I tugged up my skirt and threw on my baby tee, I smiled down atmy phone. It seemed all my body wanted to do this morning was smile.
And I didn’t hate it.
I think the last time I truly smiled was when my parents sat medown in June and agreed to let me come here. Up until that point, it looked like I was heading down the path that most young actors dream of.
I had a movie deal in London. I had major sitcoms on the phone withmy agent practically begging for me to join the cast. My parents had letters constantly showing up at the house from production companies that would make even grown men faint at the money they were offering to get me to break my movie deal and star in one of their movies instead.
And if any of those things made me feel as giddy as I did when Ihad a textbook in my hands and the free time to study, and learn, then I wouldn’t be getting ready for my first day of college.
“Is smiling just your thing?” I hear Daisy laugh as she steps out ofthe bathroom.
I glance at her, forcing my lips to stay firm, resisting the urge tolet them droop. A smile and a casual shrug were all I offered, my way of saying everything without saying a word. As we moved around each other, collecting our things, a soft whisper echoed in my mind: Hopefully.
It felt like a promise, one I made to myself.