Chapter Sixteen
University
Bianca, Kai, and my parents helped me pack my stuff in the car and then unpack it again in front of my new dorm at Azusa Pacific University: Adams Hall. It was the first time I had ever moved.
I made sure to carry my picture collage very carefully, and before anything else, I chose the spot where it would hang in my room. I had made a collage out of all my recent photos, including every picture I had of Paul. I even put his face right smack in the middle of the whole thing. Bianca rolled her eyes when she saw it.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Hey, look, you are in the middle too. Don’t be jealous!”
One of my two roommates, Becky, had already moved in. After introducing ourselves, she helped me carry my “life” into our little room. I learned that Becky was a quiet girl from Sacramento, a French horn player with perfect pitch, and she was very sweet and gentle. I liked her right away. We were both in the freshman honors program, and we would be in the same Bible class. We had arrived on campus a week early for choir camp. Our other roommate, Brooke, would move in the following week.
The time came for my loved ones to head back home. I waved and blew kisses to Bianca and Kai, who rode together in the back seat and waved through the back window until we couldn’t see each other anymore. Saying goodbye to my parents and friends was not so hard because I was excited and ready to be away from home. I had been looking forward to this day for two years, ever since my first trip to Mexico my junior year. Besides, Burbank was only 30 minutes away.
I spent most of the day making my third of the dorm room as cozy as possible. My mom had bought me a new quilt for my bed, and Gretchen had taken me shopping for a few toss pillows. The dark blues and happy yellows were the most vibrant thing in the room, but they weren’t the green and white flower bedding I was used to. The empty bunk above me, empty desks, empty Brita filter—everything contributed to the loneliness of a new beginning.
“Want to go for a walk?” I asked Becky.
We went walking through the halls, looking for open doors so we could meet the girls on our wing. Our resident advisor’s room was next door. It was decorated with bright curtains, lamps, posters, and plants, and I could see that it was possible for it to feel like home.
“Welcome!” she sang. “I’m your RA. Let me know if you need anything!”
Our hall had a garden theme, but the coolest thing she had done to decorate our hall was put a white board and marker on the door of every room.
“Thanks for the white boards!” I said. “What are they for?”
“You can use them to let people know where you are, or tell your roommates they got a phone call—anything!”
We kept walking and noticed that each year the girls before us had painted a mural on the wall of the wing. Other girls were admiring the murals as well, and our RA joined us to give us a tour and show us her mural from when she was a freshman. They had each made an imprint of their hands in all different colors. It was so encouraging to see the sisterhood represented in the murals and the commitment to Christ represented in the theme Bible verses.
I probably met about half of the girls on my wing that night. Every person was so interesting and genuine. I felt so lucky to be living with a group of young Christian women. I was overjoyed to be away from the high school nonsense.
At choir camp the next morning, Becky and I stood together on the top risers. We were both second altos—and lucky for me, she knew how to sight-read music. Singing with 100 other young women was an amazing experience from the start. The sound was angelic, even though the estrogen level was almost giving me nosebleeds. Our director was a serene, levelheaded man with a keen ability to tame the rabble before him. Surprisingly, we got a lot done in the first few hours of practice.
During our morning break we met outside Munson Chapel for bagels, cream cheese, and coffee. The other choirs, including the huge choir and orchestra and men’s choir, joined us.
As Becky and I sat on a bench and took bites of our bagels, I looked up and saw a beautiful guy. He was standing just across from me, grabbing a bagel and some juice.
“Wow, Becky. Look at that hottie. Doesn’t he look kinda like Brad Pitt?”
“Sort of,” she said.
“Look at his eyes,” I said. They were luscious blue.
“Yeah, he has nice eyes.” She seemed a little embarrassed. I could tell that she wasn’t the boy-crazy type.
I told myself that by the end of choir camp, I had to meet him. It didn’t take that long. At our second break, while I was standing with a few other girls, he and a friend walked over and introduced themselves.
“Hey, ladies,” his friend said. He sounded like a game show host. “I’m Bradley, and this is my friend Tyler.” He patted Tyler on the chest. Tyler waved with faux shyness.
“Hi,” he said confidently.
“Hi, hi,” we all said. Then it was our turn to introduce ourselves.
“Didn’t they do a freshman spotlight on you?” I asked Bradley, recognizing him from one of the summer bulletins. “Are you the actor?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said sweetly. He was very handsome as well. Bradley told us about his theater experience in high school. He was so amiable that it made it easy for me to act totally interested in him, and in the meantime show Tyler my personality: friendly, appreciating the arts, theater, and people in general.
Throughout the week I chatted with Tyler, Bradley, and the other choir members during our short breaks. On the last day of camp we had a half-day of practice and an evening at the beach. The wind was chilly, so I put on my sweatshirt and went running along the water with a few girls, and then settled in front of the bonfire when the sun went down. We roasted marshmallows and sang worship songs, watching the smoke drift straight up toward the heavens. It looked as if God had opened the clouds in a circle just above our group so he could peek down and hear our harmonies.
Tyler caught my eye and we smiled at each other from across the bonfire.
When school started the next week, Becky and I walked to our first Bible class together and saw Tyler waiting outside the classroom door.
“You are in this class?” I asked him.
“Yeah, what are you doing here?” he asked, backing up, pretending to be intimidated by me.
“Look at the schedule,” I said, holding up my class list. “This is my class, Mr. T.”
When the professor arrived, the students filed in the room and chose their seats with that first-day feeling. Our professor was also the director of the honors program; I knew my efforts in his class would be a critical first impression. With the help of my pedantic roommate, I was able to focus on the class and ignore the scenery—at least for the first two weeks.
But before long, Tyler and I were hanging out in each other’s dorm rooms, telling each other about our childhoods, watching movies in the lounge, and eating ice cream late at night on the soccer field. Soon Tyler became my best friend away from home.
Even though Tyler and I hung out every day and knew a lot about each other, I never told him about Paul. Occasionally, after a weekend at home, I would come back to campus acting distant and abnormal. Either I had seen Paul at church and he had ignored me, or I didn’t see him and I’d gotten equally discouraged. Tyler knew something was going on, but I couldn’t tell him that I still had feelings for a guy back home who happened to be my youth leader, way older than me, and way too good for me. But Tyler was so sweet and funny; soon I was back in his arms, laughing with him and Bradley in their dorm room, and enjoying the freedom of my new life.
Goodnight to My Thoughts of You Page 17
