by Jenny Siegal
Her eyebrows shoot up and her eyes widen. “What, why?”
“Not officially, but I want to be called Charlotte at college.”
“Why Charlotte? That's not your name. Charlie is your proper name. ”
“I don’t know. I just figured that if I was reinventing myself, I should have a different name.”
My mom frowns at me. “Hmm, I’m not happy about it, and I think you’re taking this a bit far. There is nothing wrong with Charlie. But if it makes you feel better, then I suppose I won’t be there, so you can do what you want.”
I squeeze her tighter. “Thanks, Mom.” I don’t add that I have been doing just that for years.
Mom tilts her head to the side and gives me her brightest smile. “I love you, Charlotte.”
• • •
Earlier today, I'd said an emotional good-bye to my mom. My emotions are all in a whirl, excitement warring with apprehension, anticipation deflated by guilt. As I was backing out the driveway of the house that has been my home all my life, I started to feel guilty about leaving her on her own. Here I have packed up and set off for college without a second thought as to what she will do. Of course, she assured me that she’d be fine. But it has always been just the two of us, especially since my granddad died.
Tears threatened to overwhelm me the whole journey. More than once, I had to resist the urge to turn back toward home and stay with her. But I know that this will be good for me. I need to get away and stand on my own two feet. I need a new start, far away from my old life, its temptations, and my old reputation. How hard can being a good girl be?
Chapter Two
Hours later, I drag my suitcase up the stairs to my new home for at least the next year. My hands slip on the handle of my suitcase, and I wipe them on my jeans before I attempt to open the door. Bumper cars are bouncing around in my stomach. Nerves, I suppose, but also apprehension about meeting my new roommate. It will be interesting to see how I adjust to sharing a room with a complete stranger. I’m an only child and have never really had a best friend.
Before I have the chance to knock, a tall girl with beautiful curly red hair that tumbles around her face pulls the door open. Her face is flushed with excitement. She towers over me, and a split second of envy washes over me at how tall and slim she is; a total contrast to my small and curvy frame.
The smile on her face stretches and her big blue eyes widen as she squeals and pulls me into a hug before I can stop her. She rocks back and forth with glee, squeezing me tightly, as I try to come to grips with her unexpectedly enthusiastic welcome. I’m not much of a hugger, never have been, but I reach my arms around to pat her awkwardly on the back.
Releasing me from her hug but retaining a tight grip on my forearms, the girl leans back and begins talking a mile a minute.
“I’m so glad you’re here! My parents just left and I put most of my stuff away and I hope you don’t mind that I chose a bed already…” My eyes grow wide and she trails off when she sees the stunned expression on my face.
Embarrassment flits across her expressive face for a second then she shakes her head.
“Sorry, you’re not even in the door yet, and I’m already talking too much. I’m Iris.” She pulls me into the room, my suitcase dragging behind me, and closes the door.
“I’m, uh, Charlotte,” I say with a small shrug, still trying to get used to my new name.
So this room is now home, I muse as I look around, taking it all in. Our small dorm room has two beds with matching side tables and a desk for each of us. There is an open door, which is probably the bathroom, so the other door must be the closet. A wide window in desperate need of curtains overlooks the quad below.
Iris is watching me with interest as she sits on her bed, which is already made with a flowery bedspread and covered with way too many stuffed animals. That must be a nightmare to make in the morning. Does she sleep with them all at night?
“The closet isn’t very big. I hope I haven’t taken up too much room.” She looks apologetic; it’s nice that she is so concerned. She sounds as nervous as I am, and I figure that’s why she’s talking so much.
I give her a warm smile and duck my head. “It’s okay, I don’t have much.” What an understatement. After I’d gone through the entire contents of my wardrobe, there weren’t many clothes in the non-slutty pile. And, of course, no shoes. My mom could barely conceal her laughter when I came home with Chucks and flat shoes. Once she realized I was serious, she helped me put together my college wardrobe, biting her tongue the entire time.
“Where are all your bags?” Iris asks, looking at my lone suitcase sitting in the middle of the room.
“Apart from the box in the car, this is it.” I make a sweeping gesture toward my suitcase.
Usually I go overboard, packing nearly everything I own when I travel, but now I’m traveling light. At first, I was uncomfortable with it, but now I simply feel liberated. Being unencumbered by a lot of possessions feels lighter, somehow.
“You have a car?” Iris exclaims as her eyes grow wide and her mouth pops open.
I’ve never seen someone so excited by the fact that I have a car before, and I laugh at her reaction. “Yeah, I’ve got a car, so if there is anywhere you want to go…” My words fade when I see how bright her eyes are. Uh-oh, I might regret saying that.
“Let’s get your box then we can go and explore,” she suggests excitedly, jumping off the bed and pulling on my arm as she heads toward the door.
I’d imagined unpacking my few belongings and relaxing, so I balk at first. But I suppose this could be fun, and her excitement is actually infectious, so I give her a ‘why not’ shrug.
“Okay, I guess I can unpack later. Lead the way.” I grab my keys, money, and phone out of my bag and stuff them in my pockets.
Iris talks nonstop the whole way down to the car. It’s a relief, actually, not to have to say much yet since I’m so overwhelmed. So I’m happy just to listen to everything she is willing to tell me. She is so friendly and asks lots of questions, which she doesn’t always wait for the answer to, and I smile to myself as we head down the stairs, thinking how much she reminds me of an overenthusiastic puppy. It’s amazing to me how she isn’t bitchy about anything and seems to take a sincere interest in what I have to say—when I can get a word in edgewise, that is. She’s so different from the stuck-up girls I know back home.
When we reach the parking lot, we pause at my car while I unlock it. As I open the door, I look up to see Iris staring at my car with a delighted smile on her face.
“I don’t know much about cars, but I like this one,” she exclaims.
“Thanks,” I say with a touch of pride. “This is Daisy, and I love her. Can you drive?” To my surprise, Iris’s smile fades, and she shakes her head.
“No, my dad won’t allow it. I don’t think he trusts me.” She averts her eyes as she slides into the passenger seat, and for the first time since we’ve met, she isn’t smiling. Suddenly, I feel sorry for her.
“Well, never mind,” I say brightly. “We can go anywhere you want.” The offer is worth it when her whole face brightens.
As we pull out of the parking lot, Iris cranks up the stereo and sings along to the CD I made for the drive here. It’s easy to relax with her. She doesn’t care how she sounds, and I soon join her as we belt out Train, Maroon 5, and a bit of The Band Perry. We giggle hysterically at how bad we sound, and by the time we pull into a fast food drive-thru not far from our dorm, I’m gasping for breath and my side hurts.
Once we have our order, I find a place to park so we can eat our food. The car is quiet while we eat; the first silent moment since I’ve met Iris, surprisingly. About halfway through her burger, Iris turns toward me, her face serious.
“So, Charlotte, tell me about yourself.” She stuffs a couple of French fries in her mouth, waiting expectantly for me to speak, and I freeze.
What does she want to know? I’ve just met this girl; she seems so nice, and I’m en
joying her company. There is nothing fake or bitchy about Iris, unlike the girls back home. She is real and wholesome, everything I’m not. It would be crazy to tell her the truth about me and my past. So I stall.
“Um, well, I’m an only child, and it’s just my mom and me, and ….” I trail off, not sure what else to tell her.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asks, and I laugh at her hopeful expression.
“No, I don’t. Do you?” Her face falls, and she shakes her head, which makes me wish I hadn’t asked.
“I’m an only child, too. I went to an all-girls school and my parents are super strict. I wouldn’t have been allowed to date a boy, even if by some miracle I’d met one.” She frowns, her voice tinged with bitterness.
“What about friends from school?” I ask, desperately looking for a change of subject. This time she scowls, and I sigh. Great, some job I’m doing of trying to cheer her up.
“All the girls at my school were bitches,” she bites out, “and all my mother’s friends’ daughters that I was forced to be friends with were bitches, too.” She slides down a little in the seat and crosses her arms over her chest as her pretty face pinches with the memory.
I take a sip of my drink and give her a sympathetic smile. “Tell me about it. It was the same at my school. They would look down their noses at you and bitch about you behind your back.” Hopefully, it will be better at college, I think as I eat the last bite of my burger. I’m not sad to see the back of girls like that.
“They’re jealous,” she says adamantly, and her eyes flash. There is a hint of a fiery temper that goes with that red hair, and it occurs to me that I wouldn’t like to piss Iris off.
“I can see why they would be jealous of you,” I tell her. “You’re tall and beautiful and you have amazing hair.” For a second, I wince inside. I don’t mean to gush; I just want to cheer her up. Iris looks at me thoughtfully for a minute, and I think she is going to cry. Please don’t cry. I’m not good at dealing with things like that.
To my complete surprise, she leans across the console and hugs me tightly. I guess I’m going to have to get used to that. Thankfully, it doesn’t feel as awkward this time, so when Iris squeezes me, I return it with a slight squeeze of my own.
And just like that, our friendship is forged. Iris is fun, sweet and down-to-earth; she’s exactly what I need. A deep-seated contentment warms me from the inside out, and I smile broadly at her.
“I’m glad we’re roommates,” Iris says with a twinkle in her eye. “I think we’ll be good friends.”
“I’d like that.” And surprisingly, I mean it. The thought of making friends had never crossed my mind, but I realize at that moment that having a good friend will be a good influence on me. Suddenly, I’m glad that I’m roommates with Iris; college would be pretty lonely otherwise.
Iris gathers up the remains of her meal and finds a few orphaned fries in the bottom of the bag. As she prepares to pop them in her mouth, she pauses and asks, “Why did you come to the University of South Florida?” The catch in her voice makes me look over at her. I’m not sure I know exactly what she means.
“Well, I came to study art history.”
She shakes her head at me as she chews. Obviously, that’s not the answer she’s looking for. “I mean, why here? Why did you want to leave home?” she persists, and I’m still not sure I understand.
I shrug and toss out, “To get away.” As I say it, it becomes clear to me that at first I was using college as a means of escape, to have fun and get away from where I grew up. But now it has become a way to escape who I was and to start over. I wanted to come somewhere where nobody knows me and doesn’t expect me to behave a certain way. Waking up in bed with two guys the morning after that party was a harsh wake-up call, but the truth is that I’ve wanted this change for a lot longer.
Iris smiles in understanding, and I know I’ve given her the right answer.
“What about you?” I ask her. The glimpse of sadness I’d seen in her earlier tells me there is more to Iris and the reasons why she is here than she’s let on.
Without hesitation, she brightens up and uses her fingers to tick off her reasons. “To escape my parents, to live my own life, and to study physics. Oh, and to have fun.” Her eyes glitter dangerously at this last point and my stomach sinks. Hopefully, this innocent-looking girl from an all-girls school won’t be my undoing.
I push the worry out of my mind and gather up our mess to throw in the trashcan.
“What do you want to do now?” I cast a sideways glance her way and have to smile at how she gets so excited.
“Let’s go to the movies!”
I smile in agreement; that actually sounds like fun. I put the car in gear and pull out of the parking lot.
• • •
Over the next few weeks, Iris and I spend all our time together. We have fun and it feels like we’ve been friends for a lot longer. I’m surprised at how much I’ve grown to like her. Spending time with Iris makes me realize how lonely I was before meeting her. She gets excited about the slightest little thing, and it’s contagious; I get carried away and act silly with her. We do stupid things and then laugh about it afterward.
She’s not like the girls back home who were so superficial and bitchy. There was always pressure to act or dress a certain way. Once I earned my reputation as a slut, it was kind of expected of me and I lived up to it.
Since that first day when we met, we don’t talk much about our lives before we came here. Iris looked so upset that day—I haven’t asked her any more, and thankfully, neither has she.
Iris talks to everyone. She’s one of those people who have never met a stranger, and as a result, we meet many people in the dorms and around campus. Without her, I would never have met half as many people. I’m actually quite shy, unless I’m drunk, and then I’m overly friendly. Thankfully, Iris doesn’t have that problem.
Chapter Three
Iris and I walk across the campus on the first morning of classes, feeling more like seniors instead of brand new freshmen. Students are rushing around everywhere, frantically trying to find where they are supposed to go, but we have it all worked out. We’ve already been here for a week and know exactly where to go—no rushing around like headless chickens for us.
“Are you nervous?” she asks, glancing at me as we walk up to the main building.
“Nope,” I lie. “Are you?”
Iris shakes her head and smiles. “No, I’ve been waiting for this day for months.”
Her self-confidence blows me away; I’m not nearly as sure of myself. She’s so excited she’s practically bouncing, while I’m tied up in knots inside. She’s the yin to my yang; whoever put us together as roommates knew what they were doing.
It still amazes me how well we get along with each other. I’ve never had a best friend, or any close girl-friends at all, really, but I already love Iris like crazy. She’s the complete opposite of me in every way, innocent and down-to-earth, probably because she had strict parents and attended an all-girls school. I’m pretty sure she’s still a virgin, but I’d never ask her outright. Whenever she asks me about my past, I’m very vague. I don’t think she would judge me, but I don’t want to take the chance.
We cut across the lawn and Iris walks gracefully over the grass, her long, curly hair swinging behind her. It changes shades depending on the light, and her pale skin turns pink when she blushes, which is all the time; it’s so easy to embarrass her. Wide, expressive blue eyes give away everything she is thinking and feeling—she's an open book.
Several guys walk past us and I notice how their gazes are drawn to her. My petite, curvy frame is a total contrast to her tall, willowy slimness, just as my short dark hair contrasts with her long bright red locks. My hair is now cut above my shoulders, thanks to my mom. She insisted that I let the hairdresser tidy it up after I hacked it off.
Glad that Iris is drawing all the attention for a change, I decide that I’m definitely more comfortable with
my appearance now than I was back home. These days I wear a lot less make-up, sometimes none at all, but for today, I’ve gone with a touch of mascara and lip-gloss. My hair looks good because I washed it last night and actually spent some time on it. The way I dress is different, too. No more tight-fitting clothes and high heels; today I’m wearing my denim skirt and tank top. Who would have thought I’d like wearing flat shoes, but I love my Chucks, even though I’m shorter in them. I used to hate being so small, but even with heels, there’s no way I could compete with my string bean roommate.
Iris hates that she’s so tall; she claims it’s harder for her to meet guys. She’s envious of my big breasts, and I’d kill to have her long legs, so I guess we’re even.
When we reach our parting point, Iris catches my eye as she comes to a stop and says, “Meet me in the Student Union at lunchtime.” Then she hugs me quickly before dashing off to her first class. It’s taken me a while to get used to that, how she likes to hug. I’m not really one for physical contact and try to avoid it if possible. Well, unless you count sleeping with guys, but that’s different.
• • •
As Monday mornings go, this was one of the better ones. When I woke up this morning, I felt refreshed and relaxed with no two-day hangover served with a side of regret from the weekend’s antics. The best part is not having to wonder what everyone at school will be saying about me. Of course, the not drinking part is hard, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.
Morning classes pass quickly. It helps that I already know some of my new classmates from our dorm and around campus, thanks to my gregarious roommate. It was a good idea to let her drag me to all those freshmen orientations, she insisted she couldn't go alone. Now I don’t feel as awkward as I would have otherwise.
Iris is late, as usual, so I grab a table in the union and sit down to wait. It is pretty empty apart from several guys playing a game of pool nearby, and I give them a cursory glance before pulling out my phone. I fire off a text to Iris telling her to hurry up, and then pull a textbook from my backpack to entertain myself with while I wait. Before I can get a few pages in, my scalp prickles with awareness, and I look up to see one of the pool players watching me with interest.
