Player

1. Dixie

DIXIE

Please let my roommates be nice. Please let my roommates be nice. Please let...

I've been repeating this mantra like some sort of magic spell since I arrived on campus this morning. Although I've dreamed of attending this university for years, I'm still intimidated by the prospect of sharing my accommodation with several strangers.

Not to mention that at Old Meyer University , OMU to those in the know, they promote gender equality, which means the student residences are co-ed...

With one hand, I tug on the handle of my rolling suitcase, while in the other, I hold my phone.

The campus map is displayed on the screen, but my sense of direction seems to be failing me today, as I'm unable to find my bearings.

The large buildings they call colleges don't look alike, yet it's a lost cause—the more I walk, the more lost I feel.

The meeting with my first-year coordinator is scheduled for ten o'clock, which is in three minutes, but I'm nowhere near finding my way.

Panic starts to take over. Suddenly, whether my roommates are nice or not becomes the least of my worries: if I don't hurry, I'll be labeled as the girl who arrives late on the first day, which I want to avoid at all costs.

I move forward with determination, glancing around to check that I'm on the right path, and just as I finally find the walkway leading to my residence, someone crashes into me.

The impact jostles my hand from the handle of my luggage, which rolls toward the stretch of grass bordering the path, while I lose my balance and let out a small cry of surprise. The carpet of greenery cushions my fall as I land on my backside.

I turn my head toward the person responsible for the incident, but his tall silhouette is backlit, and all I can vaguely make out are brown eyes. The man doesn't even stop to help me; he speeds away as if he hadn't just run into me.

Anger quickly replaces surprise, and I call out to him:

"That's right! Don't bother apologizing!"

It's impossible to know whether he heard me or not, as he continues on his way without looking back.

I observe him for a moment, until his tall figure disappears around the corner of the nearest building. He's wearing jeans and a leather jacket, his dark hair cut short. That's all I can make out, but it's enough for me to remember him if I happen to cross paths with him again.

My gaze shifts from my suitcase, which has popped open, to my phone, which is face down on the concrete. I get up as quickly as possible before retrieving the device. A quick inspection tells me that the case has given up on life, but it played its protective role, as the phone itself seems intact.

"Do you need help?"

I turn to discover a young woman standing there. She pushes a blonde strand of hair behind her shoulder while adjusting the strap of her messenger bag.

Without waiting for my answer, she's already heading toward my suitcase. I come to my senses, and call out,"That's kind of you, thanks. "

Between the two of us, putting my clothes back in the luggage is a quick operation.

"I'm Pia," the stranger introduces herself as we return to the path.

Pia is shorter than me, so I lower my head to respond, "Dixie."

Her blue eyes sparkle when she smiles at me.

"I've never met a Dixie before," she remarks.

"And I don't know any Pias."

Our exchange might seem odd, but it isn't. Pia gives off good vibes. She gives me the impression of being a good person, exactly the kind of roommate I'd dream of having.

"Are you going to Thomas Edison College ?" she asks me.

"How do you know?"

Pia stammers, "It's the closest residence, so I assumed that..."

Her cheeks turn red, and I decide to help her out of her embarrassment. "Yes, I was supposed to be there since..."

I check the screen of my phone, and that's when I notice what had initially escaped me: the glass is, in fact, cracked.

"Oh shit!"

The exclamation slips out, and I notice Pia's startled jump beside me. I glance at her, quickly adding, "Sorry."

Tears start to flood my eyes before I can do anything about it, and Pia puts a reassuring hand on my arm:

"It'll be okay."

I nod, even though I'm not convinced at all.

"We should hurry," my companion adds. "We're almost there."

The Gothic collegiate style of our dormitory is as classic as they come.

In my opinion, the tall stone facades topped with battlements would be more at home on the ramparts of a medieval castle than at a university.

Tall, needle-like spires dominate rooftops that seem to want to pierce the heavens, and I find myself imagining the view from up there. ..

My architectural musings come to an abrupt halt when Pia and I enter the building where a group of students have already gathered in the immense hall. The ambient chatter is amplified by the vaulted stone ceiling looming above us.

I notice I'm not the only one with luggage: some students even have cardboard boxes beside them.

My attention drifts to Pia. The young woman is biting her lip, and I notice she's nervously clutching her large bag against her body.

"Where's your luggage?" I ask, trying to distract her.

My companion's light blue gaze shifts to me, and I sense she relaxes a bit when she answers, "I arrived last night and dropped everything off in my room..."

Her response is interrupted by the appearance of a young man at the top of the imposing staircase leading to the upper floors.

You'd almost think we were in a wizarding academy.

.. I banish this incongruous thought to focus on the newcomer addressing the assembly.

"Good morning, everyone! I know you're eager to begin this new academic year at OMU, but first I'd like to explain the rules of our college .

Before anything else, I believe it's appropriate to introduce myself: I'm Thomas Young. "

A few laughs rise from the crowd, and our host smiles in response.

"Yes, a Thomas living at Thomas Edison College —you can't make this stuff up.

In any case, I'm your resident advisor. Anything related to housing and the practical details of life here at TEC concerns me directly.

However, I'm not your doorman, so don't bother asking me to receive your packages. "

As he outlines the rules in effect at our dorm, I study him with curiosity. Tall, well-built, with a square jaw and an honest smile, he inspires confidence. Yes, I'd feel completely reassured asking him for help if I needed it.

As the minutes pass, I feel my tension draining away. I've dreamed so much about studying here that I've put tremendous pressure on myself. You might think I was relieved when I received that famous acceptance letter, but that wasn't the case.

The day I found out I was admitted was several months ago now, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

.. I was coming home from high school in the crushing heat typical of southern Alabama when I saw the thick envelope sitting on the entry table, right next to where my family dropped our outdoor shoes to keep the mud out.

A shiver of joy runs through me at the memory of that momentous occasion, but the reminiscences of my past are swept away by Pia telling me, "I can't wait to start classes. I chose..."

She falls silent when our advisor's gaze sweeps across the crowd in our direction.

I'm also impatient to start the semester, even if I can't help feeling a bit anxious.

What if I'm not good enough? I studied at a good high school, but then again, how does it compare to other schools across the country?

What if my excellent in Alabama is just average at OMU?

Overwhelmed by the extent of my doubts, the rest of Thomas's explanations are lost on me. I might regret not listening later, but there's nothing I can do to make up for my distraction now.

When he finishes, students begin to disperse throughout the building. Some climb the massive staircase while others disappear down the numerous hallways branching off from the main hall.

I feel lost again in the vastness of the place.

"Which floor are you on?" Pia asks.

Her light blue gaze is fixed on me. She has the appearance of a delicate, fragile doll, yet a kind of strength emanates from her.

I recall the details provided in the emails I received and answer, "The second floor."

"Me too!"

Pia unlocks her phone and types quickly before showing me a message. I read the information several times before my brain finally manages to decode it.

"We're on the same floor!" I exclaim.

My new dormmate, as it turns out, takes me by the arm and says confidentially, "How lucky! I'll admit I was a bit worried about ending up with strangers... I've never lived anywhere but with my parents, so this is all new to me."

I grab the handle of my suitcase, and we head toward the stairs as Pia continues talking, "I've never even been to a summer camp..."

If starting college is a shock for me, it's even more so for Pia. I feel a surge of compassion for her. It can't be easy leaving your family for the first time.

"You didn't tell me where you're from," I point out.

Getting her to talk is a good strategy to reduce her stress, though I'm not sure which of us I'm trying to comfort "I'm from a small town not far from Raleigh."

I glance sideways at Pia:

"Raleigh, North Carolina?"

"Exactly!"

"Why choose a college so far from home, when you could have gone to Duke? "

Pia purses her lips, and I'm almost certain there's a good reason why she decided to move hundreds of miles away from her family.

"I got a scholarship here," she finally answers. She doesn't elaborate. I don't press the issue—we just met, it's not like we're longtime friends, and I don't want to seem intrusive.