the Roommate Mistake

by Elizabeth Stevens

  I woke up the next morning with a sense of ennui hanging over me. I didn’t hate being at Acacia. I wasn’t chomping at the bit to run away home. I didn’t feel lonely or abandoned or anything. I just felt meh about it.

  Meh seemed to sum up a significant portion of my life to date. I’d never been the kind to get all involved in everything. I was the sideliner, content to watch other people live their lives. I’d never known why. There wasn’t some tragedy in my past that made me too scared to live life to the fullest. There wasn’t some second-hand stressor that had me afraid of being hurt. It was just me. As an only child, I was used to and happy with my own company. I preferred books to people, and I supposed I preferred people to loneliness.

  Still, I’d promised Mum that I’d try to make friends so, when I heard movement outside my door, I decided I should probably introduce myself to my roommate who I’d yet to see. Not surprising really considering I’d been investigating, eating, or tucked away in my room.

  Which was fine as far as rooms go. There was a bed, bedside table, desk and chair, chest of draws, some hanging space, and a laundry basket with a bag tagged with ‘Room 605’. It would suit my purposes fine. There were power points and lamps, so my reading and recharging were sorted.

  By the time I dragged myself out of bed, dressed, and into the common living room both bedrooms shared, there was no sign of my roommate. Her door was closed like it had been every time I’d seen it. I looked around at the place I was calling home for basically the next two years.

  There was a couch, a couple of chairs, a large TV with console next to it, and a coffee table. On one side of the room was a tiny kitchenette. More a few cupboards that had been turned into a kitchenette. Big enough for a kettle, microwave and toaster; things we’d need for a snack between meals. On the other wall was a big window complete with a cushy window seat. It overlooked the back of the school so there was just scrub and bushland, green even for the time of year.

  Since I was up and had very little else to do, I decided more exploring was in order. I wasn’t a breakfast person. Never had been. I downed a cup of tea and orange juice while pulling some clothes on as best I could. But, then, there was only so much exploring even I could do. With the knowledge I was stuck here for two years, I wasn’t all that keen to uncover all its secrets quite so soon. So, back to my dorm it was.

  “Uh, hi…” I said as I walked in and saw the guy standing in the living room, looking at the phone in his hand.

  It was Mr It.

  It was Mr It in nothing but a low-slung towel.

  He turned and looked me over. “Newbie,” he said with a smug smile and some admittedly very fine abs on display; a very definite four-pack and a six-pack threatening.

  I looked around the room. Presumably Mr It was Sasha’s boyfriend or…boy toy at least. I was sort of impressed with her without even meeting her if the girl’s having half naked guys wander around our dorm when the dorm mistress could walk in at any moment.

  “You lost?” he asked, making it sound like he was a breath away from some joke about being the one to find me.

  I looked at the door and checked it was the right number. “I don’t think so.”

  He nodded, still looking amused. “All right then.”

  Before he could make a quip about being the right guy in the right place, I got to the point. “I’m looking for–”

  “I’m Alex.” He still wore that smug grin and I couldn’t be sure, but I think he was flexing his pecs.

  I nodded. “Great. I’m Lottie–”

  “Now you give me your name?” he laughed.

  “Sure. Uh, is…” I looked around again. “Sasha…around?” I looked up at him and there was a touch of confusion marring that smugness.

  “How do you…?” he spluttered, seeming to be forcing that smile. “Who gave you that name?” he asked.

  I went to pull a wad of papers out of my pocket, because I carried around stuff like that. “My dorm allocation paper says my roommate’s name is Sasha…?”

  I heard him scoff and I looked up. “So…” A pause. “Please tell me Lottie’s short for…Charlotte?” he asked, running his hand over his chin thoughtfully.

  I scoffed as I looked through the papers. “Um. No. Lottie’s short for Elliott. I’m Elliott Hopkins.”

  He pointed at me and I don’t think he could decide if he was worried about something or he was going to laugh. “You’re Elliott…?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’re–”

  “My name isn’t going to change the more you say it,” I told him. I looked around. “Where’s Sasha? Maybe she can–?”

  “He.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “I’m Sasha.”

  “You said you were Alex.”

  A shrug. “People call me Alex.”

  I frowned. “But…you’re a guy.”

  “That I am. Elliott’s a dude’s name, isn’t it?”

  “So, what does that make Sasha?”

  “Russian.”

  “Russian?”

  He nodded. “My mother’s family were Russian. She named me after her grandfather. But here, I’m Alex.”

  “Oh.” I supposed that made sense. “So, you’re… You’re Sasha Landry?”

  He nodded. “And you’re Elliott Hopkins.”

  “So, we’re…” I started.

  “Roommates,” he finished with me.

  We sized each other up. I was well aware that he found me as lacking as I found him. What I didn’t know what who was at the disadvantage with him being half-naked. By all accounts, what he had on display was impressive enough. If you liked that sort of thing. He was still half-naked and therefore vulnerable. Then again, I got to look at it.

  I could just see myself in his eyes: shoulder-length auburn hair with a high probability of messy curls, a button up shirt and pressed culottes, and tennis shoes. I was the aging librarian well before my time, but with a hint of grunge.

  I watched him rub his hand over his chin.

  He nodded. “Right. Well, I guess we should mention this to someone?”

  I also nodded. “I suppose so. Can’t imagine the establishment will be terribly pleased if they discover this little mess and we said nothing.”

  Alex inclined his head. “No. Shame. True. Just let me get dressed and we’ll go find the dorm mistress.”

  “You know where her office is?”

  He smirked. “Oh, yeah. I know where her office is.”

  As he walked into his room, I wondered why that sounded an awful lot like he’d been there a lot? Probably for doing things in his dorm he wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t need to dwell on it too long, as he was back and thankfully fully dressed in moments. Simple jeans and a t-shirt combo that somehow still looked like it cost an arm and a leg.

  As he passed the mirror outside his door, he ran his hand through and up his hair. That mannerism was going to become too familiar much too quickly for my liking.

  “Come on, then,” he said and I followed him out into the hallway.

  It was swarming with kids coming and going. People – kids, teachers, and miscellaneous – called out greetings to him as we passed them. He waved at the ones further away, fist bumped the ones closer, and cracked a smile at every single one of them like he was dousing them in the high beams of his personality.

  “Yo, Lando!” someone called out and I saw two boys heading towards us through the crowded hallway.

  Alex kicked his chin at them. It was the tall, dark blond and the short red-head from the day before.

  “Birdman. Zachary.” The three of them shook hands and embraced.

  “You got yourself a shadow already, mate?” the short red-head chuckled, looking at me.

  Alex laughed. “Nah. Dorm mistress cocked up. Fellas, this is Elliott Hopkins, my roommate.”

  “For now,” I said with a frown.

  The tall one smirked, looking at Al
ex knowingly. “Sure. Nice to meet you…Elliott?”

  My frown deepened. “He gets to be Sasha and I don’t get to be Elliott?”

  Red-head held up his hands defensively and tried hard not to smile. “Because the only one allowed to call him Sasha is his grandma, and even then she gets a death glare.”

  I looked at Alex, finding that a very interesting tid-bit of information indeed.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse us…Birdman,” I said wryly, one thin brown eyebrow rising. The one that was pierced. “But Sasha and I need to clean up a mess.”

  The boys shared a smirk.

  “That we do,” Alex told him.

  The tall one laughed. “First girl I’ve ever seen other than Babushka who’s ever told him what to do.”

  “Don’t read into it,” Alex warned him.

  They shared another handshake and Alex waved his hand to me to follow him.

  “So, you’re a popular jerkwad then?” I asked and he looked back to her with a laugh.

  “There are worse people for a newbie to be stuck with for a roomie, Elliott,” he replied.

  “Sure, Sasha,” I scoffed. “Lucky me.”

  He huffed a laugh as smiled at some people, then turned to me. “You some kind of snob there, Elliott?”

  “No more than you, I’ll bet.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “Merely, Sasha, that it’s not lost on me that you’re only talking to me because I have boobs.”

  “Why? Because I’m some popular arsehole who hates women unless some part of them is wrapped around my cock?” he scoffed.

  “You’re just that sort. Your kind don’t talk to mine.”

  “Oh, and you think you know my kind do you?” he chuckled.

  I nodded resignedly. “I know your kind.”

  He paused and looked me over like he was trying to work out what in the hells that sentence was supposed to mean. More worryingly, it seemed like he knew what it meant and was debating the sense in digging further into that. Thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, he just turned to the next door along the corridor.

  “Here it is.” Alex knocked on the door to the dorm mistress’ office.

  For the day before the first official day back, the poor woman already looked overwhelmed. Papers and folders were all over her desk, her hair had fly-aways, and her expression was one of the epically lost.

  She looked up and our presence seemed to stress her out further. “Yes?”

  “You’re new,” Alex said, like it was a surprise.

  “I am,” she answered, looking none too impressed with him. “I’m sure I’ll still be able to help you, though.”

  “Good. Uh, we have a…” Alex looked at me with an easy, casual smirk, “small problem.”

  The dorm mistress sighed, but tried to look put-together. “What problem?”

  “We’ve been assigned as roommates,” he said.

  She looked between us, her gaze finally landing on me. I watched her eyes go from slightly glazed and vacant to wide and full of recognition.

  “Elliott Hopkins,” the dorm mistress said with a sudden burst of energy.

  Alex looked at me, clearly wondering who I was to be recognised by the new dorm mistress of all people. I gave a shrug in his direction. I didn’t know why she’d know who I was. I sure didn’t recognise her.

  “That’s me,” I said.

  She nodded. “Yes, hi. Lovely to meet you in person. I heard about your father. I’m so–”

  “Thanks,” I said loudly, feeling like this popular butthole didn’t need to know about my dirty laundry.

  Of course the only reason she knew who I was was because of my dad. I had no inclination to ask her how she knew my dad. Anything connecting Elliott Hopkins the elder and Acacia wasn’t something I cared to know about.

  “And you are?” the dorm mistress asked Alex.

  “Who am I?” he asked, legitimately confused that she didn’t know who he was.

  She nodded as she hunted for something on her desk. “Yes. Who are you?”

  “I’m Alex Landry,” he said, utterly indignant.

  She nodded. “Okay, Alex…” She obviously found the folder she was looking for and opened it. “I have Elliott’s roommate down as Sasha Landry.” She looked up. “Is that your sister?”

  “My sister?”

  Alex looked thoroughly exasperated. Based on what little I’d seen of him over the last two days, it was obvious that he was used to everyone knowing who he was in every facet of his life. The fact the new dorm mistress not only didn’t know who he was but knew who I was had clearly broken what little brain he had.

  The dorm mistress looked at Alex expectantly. “Yes. Your sister?”

  “No. Sasha Landry is not my sister. I’m Sasha Landry.”

  The dorm mistress, who finally looked like she had a handle on things, lost said handle. “You said your name was Alex.”

  “He does that,” I told her, kicking my head towards him.

  He looked between us. “Seriously? Where’s Mrs Richards?”

  The dorm mistress shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. But I’m Miss Fairley and I’m the dorm mistress for Banksia House now. You’re telling me you, Alex, are Sasha Landry?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m Sasha Landry. Anglicised ‘Alex’. 605 has been my dorm room for the last three years.”

  “And yet I…” Miss Fairly muttered to herself as she looked at the papers. “Okay. Well…” she breathed out. “Bugger.”

  Alex snorted and I felt myself smile.

  “Yeah, bugger covers it pretty well,” he said. “Now, I don’t mind having a chick for a roommate. But, if the dean gets wind of this then, no matter how much money my parents throw at the school, I’m going to get into more trouble than even I can get away with.”

  Miss Fairly looked up at us and seemed to also have so many questions about that. She didn’t ask any of them, though. “The fourth dorm is over schedule for its upgrade as it is, so not only is the other girls’ dorm over capacity, but we’ve also had to accommodate some of the girls here in Banksia. With so little space, it might be a while before we can find you somewhere…more suitable, Elliott.”

  “Lottie, please,” I said automatically; it was like a Pavlovian response with me. “And we’re not in a day and age where people of the opposite sex can share a dorm?”

  Miss Fairly looked like I’d caught her out on something. Like she wanted to say, were it up to her, it would be fine. What luck there were always higher bodies to dictate what was right or wrong and we didn’t have to take any responsibility.

  “It’s not really appropriate.”

  “No. Shame I’m not a lesbian. I’m sure it would all be above board then.”

  I heard a snort escape Alex and spared him a glance to find he was desperately trying not to laugh. It lit his eyes up and they didn’t look quite so blank and empty anymore.

  “Look, for what it’s worth,” he started. “My parents will definitely sign off on me sharing a dorm with a girl. Especially if it makes things easier. Catch them at the right time and they’ll probably throw some money in to help get the upgrades finished.”

  Miss Farley honestly looked like she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do and that it would be great if the answer to the problem was so simple.

  “Lottie? Would your mum sign off?”

  I felt my eyes rolling of their own accord. Would the woman who lived like she belonged in the sixties with all their free love but with a truly contemporary open-minded mind-set sign off on me sharing a dorm with a guy? I had little doubt, but she should be the one to make that decision.

  “You’d have to ask her,” I said.

  Miss Fairly nodded. “All right. We’ll get in touch with your parents and find a resolution to this as soon as we can. In the meantime, I suppose we have very little option but to send you two back to your room for the night.”

  “
Bold of you, Miss Fairly,” Alex teased.

  She didn’t seem to take the joke well. “I expect you to purport yourself in an appropriate manner in these extenuating circumstances, Mr Landry.”

  The way she said it was so much like she was trying to pass off any responsibility to whatever she thought we were going to get up to. Like seriously, never in a million years was I going to find myself getting up to anything with Alex Landry that required a closed door.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, the persistent buzz of my phone woke me up. Just because it had been the intention didn’t make it any better. With a groan, I rolled myself over and fumbled around under my pillow to find the offending object.

  I was well-practiced in the art of silencing my alarm with eyes still full of sleep. However, even still half-asleep – on the verge of being back asleep – I noticed the little notification from the Acacia App.

  A mandatory app the school ran, it required a log-in on my part – with credentials passed out by the school – and gave me instant access to everything I might need, catered specifically to me. Timetable. Emails. Class materials. And the in-school instant messenger system. Why have a boring, simple online portal when you could fashion the whole thing into an exorbitant custom phone app? At least the ridiculous fees weren’t just being used for yet another – probably native Australiana-themed – cup for the rugby team or something.

  Resignedly awake now, I rolled onto my back and opened the app. There was a message from Miss Fairly to a group which shared the personal contact information of Alex and me with each other.

  “Great,” I muttered to myself. “Now he can slide into my DMs as well as my room.”

  Not that Alex had tried sliding into my room.

  Miss Fairly – Dorm Mistress, Banksia House

  I have set up a meeting with your guardians at 11am this morning. Please come to my office then. I will inform your relevant teachers.

  Miss Fairly

  I wasn’t sure if that was the sort of thing to which one replied. She could see I’d read it; did it need a response? It wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter anyway. I had to go.

  Didn’t stop Alex replying. The small insight into his psyche did nothing to change my opinion of him.