Prologue
LEONA
Ican do this…
I square my shoulders, but a shiver follows me through the arches of Warwick University. An entrance worth remembering, not necessarily in a good way. A unicorn on one knee before a lion whose paw is raised and dripping with what looks to be blood.
Ugh. No, hopefully not. After all, unicorns symbolize freedom, purity, innocence, healing – everything I’m hoping for here.
A new university. A fresh start.
A place where no one knows me.
Not that there is anything much to know.
I have been careful. Outside of my head, I’m an ordinary girl.
A rather quiet person who loves sports and excels at them.
Someone who is not exactly a loner, but who has few friends.
That description suits me fine. I have occasionally heard people say “good at sports and pretty, but a bit weird” when they think I’m not listening.
That is also true, I suppose. Depends on what you mean by weird, of course.
I know I am different from other girls. I feel things differently and I don’t always react as expected.
But I learned to accept that a long time ago, and as I grew, I learned to keep my thoughts to myself.
Now, I put those thoughts aside. It’s time.
It’s time to start over and the first step is to meet my new housemates at Emily Dickinson Women’s House.
I push the door open and then take a seat on the divan sofa that sits by a sunny window in a wide hallway.
The nerves hit me all at once as I wait for my housemates to appear.
I thought I was fine with being a late starter — I came through the clearance process, so I am starting university in January instead of September — but now it’s hit me that everyone will have already formed their cliques and I am going to be friendless.
It’s not a new experience, but not one I am looking to repeat.
Maybe I should just go. Start next year or something so I can begin classes with everyone else.
But do I really want to waste a year of my life just because I think this might be socially awkward?
I think about how hard it was to scrape together the money to come here.
I know that if I walk away now, I will be walking away for good.
It’s not that my parents are poor — I was always well-fed, well clothed and warm as a kid — but they aren’t tuition-fee-rich like a lot of the other students’ parents are.
I’ve already worked out that I’ll need to get a job next year to afford to come back.
I bet not many other students will need to do that.
But that’s OK. My parents love me and they are so proud of me for being accepted here.
I’m still debating the merits of just saying fuck it and walking away when I hear laughter and chatting coming from a room off the hallway.
The door opens and a girl with long brown hair, who looks to be about my age, comes into the hall.
She’s wearing jeans, a white shirt and flat shoes. She beams when she sees me.
“You must be Leona,” she says excitedly. “Welcome to Warwick.”