by Farlow, LK
“Sorry,” I whisper in her wake, willing myself not to cry. This is my fresh start, and I refuse to let one mean girl ruin it.
After a deep breath, I lock my fragile emotions back into their little heart-shaped box and exit the car. As I lean back into the car to grab my messenger bag, a creeping sensation washes over me, simultaneously prickling my skin and causing sweat to bead on my hairline.
Someone’s watching me.
“Just breathe,” I mutter to myself, securing the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath for two counts before exhaling. I repeat this measure twice before ducking back out of my car and peeking around.
There are people everywhere, but none of them are paying any special attention to me.
I am no one here, and I know no one here, and this is still my fresh start.
I quickly smooth down the soft jersey fabric of my favorite sweatshirt—a second-hand thing I scored from the local thrift store back home—and grab my duffel bag from the trunk. Aside from a silken stuffed rabbit given to me by my paternal grandmother at birth, my pillow, and a winter coat, all of my belongings are on my person.
Eighteen years on this planet, and all of my worldly possessions fit into two bags and a pillowcase. It’s kind of sad, really.
I keep my gaze on the ground in front of me as I make the trek across the parking lot to my dorm building.
While mommy dearest hasn’t ever done much for me over the course of my life, she managed to score me one half of a two-person suite—rare for a freshman, or so I’m told.
As thankful as I am for the privacy it will afford me, it in no way makes up for the fact that she all but pawned me, and my wellbeing, for a cushy lifestyle.
The dorm building looks more like a mountain lodge from the outside, with its stone and wood exterior, steeply pitched roof, and massive windows. Here’s to hoping the inside is as nice.
Plastered across the front, right over the grand entryway, is a banner that reads Welcome Wildcats! Beneath the banner, there’s a desk, and behind the desk, there’s a pretty redheaded girl, with a bored look on her face.
“Hey, I’m, uh, checking in.”
She perks up at the sound of my voice, her previously thinned lips are now upturned in a beaming smile. “Of course. Name and ID?”
I fish my driver’s license from my wallet and pass it to her.
“Emmalyn. That’s a pretty name.”
“Just Emmy.”
“All right, Emmy. I’m Abigail, a senior, and one of the RAs of this dorm. Not yours, though. I’m on the second floor, and you’re on the third with Melanie.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” My voice shakes, and I ball my hands into fists, digging my nails into the flesh of my palms.
She smiles a genuine smile, most likely chalking my behavior up to nerves. “Here are the keys to your room and mailbox. As I mentioned, you’re on the third floor, suite three-hundred three. You’ll take a right out of the elevator, second door.” Abigail passes me a set of keys along with a folder. “There’s a map in there, along with an itinerary of Welcome Week events.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, hating how meek I sound.
While I was never the life of the party, I used to at least be able to carry a basic conversation without sounding like a frightened child.
“It’s what I’m here for.” She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “Do you have your student ID card yet?”
“No.”
“You’re gonna want to get that ASAP. You can get it over at the tech center—it’s on the map. Your ID card is basically your life. It will get you in and out of this building, along with many others. I would highly suggest getting it today. You’ll have to be buzzed in without it, okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, yes. I’ll go right now. Thanks.”
I start to turn away, but Abigail calls after me. “Don’t you wanna put your stuff up first?”
My cheeks heat. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Her lips tip up in a grin. “C’mon, I’ll let you in.”
Falling in line behind her, I wait patiently as she swipes her badge in front of the sensor. The light flashes green, and Abigail pushes the door open before stepping to the side and allowing me to enter.
“Elevator is on the left, stairs are to the back right. Mel will be around, and I’m sure she will come by and introduce herself.”
“Thanks,” I say again, undoubtedly sounding like a parrot.
“No problem, Emmy. Welcome to the Wildcat fam!”
As I enter the building, I almost wish I could bottle her pep and use it to help get me through the dark days. Sure, they’re fewer than there were, but memories of what happened still loom over me like my own personal dark cloud.
Today, though, the sun is peeking through those clouds, and I plan on taking full advantage of the sunlight. So to speak.
The inside of the dorm building is every bit as luxurious in the lobby as the outside suggests. From the slate flooring and comfy couches in the lounge area, to the exposed wooden beams overhead, this place looks more like a coveted vacation spot than a college dorm.
I follow Abigail’s directions to the elevator, though I could have found it regardless; it is a straight shot down the wide hallway.
Worry over meeting my roommate sets in as the car climbs to the third floor. What if she’s like the girls back home?
Mean, petty, and black-hearted.
Even worse… what if she’s nice? What if she sees through my mask, straight down to my broken core? What if she pulls at the thread holding all of my secrets inside me? What if she wants to try to fix me up, like I’m some old dilapidated house?
My soul is far too tarnished for a little TLC to make it shine.
It’s black. Rotten, through no fault of my own. Not because I’m bad, but because of bad done to me. The kind of bad that leaves a mark so dark, sometimes I wonder if I don’t wear it like a beacon.
The elevator dings and then the doors part, chasing away the rumble of thunder in my mind.
Anticipation thrums heavy in my chest as I approach my suite door. My heart feels as if it might actually beat clear out of my chest as I slide my key into the lock.
I inhale deeply and hold my breath as I swing the heavy, wooden door open.
Except, when I step inside, I’m alone. I’m only half relieved; if I’m being honest, I would have preferred to get the meet-and-greet out of the way.
The main living space is cozy in a generic sort of way, with a deep navy couch and a low-sitting coffee table. There’s a modest-sized flat screen television mounted on the wall over a console table. And in the kitchen, there’s even a small eat-in table with two chairs.
Undoubtedly, my mother would turn up her nose at these accommodations, but me? I’d take them a million times over the shiny mansion she calls home. That place is nothing more than a polished facade hiding poisonous lies and treacherous memories.
I check out the bathroom before peeking my head into the bedroom on the left. Judging by the fluffy purple duvet covering the bed, pictures on the walls, and string lights going from one side to the other, this room is claimed. Unfortunately, nothing about the room gives me any hints about its occupant.
Please God, let her be a nice, normal girl.
Unlike my suitemate’s room, which is full of life and somehow already looks lived in, mine is bare bones. A complete blank canvas... a fresh start.
I place both of my bags at the foot of the bed and then fish my phone from my back pocket. I unlock the screen with my thumb and pull up my text messages. Only, I don’t have anyone to text. There’s no one waiting to hear from me. I doubt mommy dearest even cares if I made it here okay.
Lord knows, she didn’t bother to even check on me once over the past two days I spent driving here from Texas.
Sighing, I lock the screen and repocket the device.
For a moment, I sit here in total silence, letting the calm of the room wash over me. I’
m sure it makes me foolish to put so much hope in this place being the turning point for me, but it’s like the old saying goes, if not now, when?
If things don’t get better—if I don’t get better—I’m not sure what I’ll do. I’m hoping, since I’ve already experienced rock bottom, that up is my only option.
Then again, I know better than most just how unfair life can be. Sometimes, it seems like the universe actually takes joy in kicking people while they’re down.
I know it did for me.
The sound of the door unlatching snaps me out of my pity party. Instantly, I’m on high alert, my breaths sawing in and out of my lungs and my heart ricocheting around in my chest like a wayward bullet.
Please be nice. Please be nice. Please, please, please.
“You must be Emmalyn.”
I force my eyes open and look toward the voice. My suitemate is striking, with long sandy hair, pale blue eyes, and bronzed skin.
“Um, Em-Emmy is fine.”
“Nice to meet you, Emmy.” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “I’m Stella.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I croak, feeling more self-conscious than ever. You only get one chance to make a good first impression and knowing my luck, this girl is going to think I’m a capital ‘L’ loser.
She studies me for a moment, squinting as she takes the time to really look at me.
My closet back home is filled with designer labels, but I didn’t bring any of it when I left. These days, my clothes are more for comfort than style. And while we’re not dressed dissimilarly, I still feel out of place under her scrutinizing gaze.
Finally, she nods. “Sweet.” She eyes the two bags on the floor. “Do you need help bringing the rest of your stuff up?”
I swallow roughly. “Um, no. I... this is pretty much it.”
Silence descends with me sitting awkwardly on the bed while she stands in the doorway. Oddly enough, it’s a comfortable silence—the kind you’d expect to exist between lifelong friends, not virtual strangers.
“Well, what are you doing then?” she asks, intentionally not commenting on my lack of worldly possessions.
“The tech center. I need to, uh, go there and get my student ID card.”
Her glossy peach lips tip up. “Perfect. Me, too. Let’s go!” Before I can refuse, Stella crosses the small space, wraps her fingers around my wrist, and hauls me up from the bed. “C’mon, we can grab a bite to eat after.”
After spending so much time ostracized and the butt of everyone’s jokes, having someone actually want to spend time with me feels foreign. However, I’m so tired of being alone, and if Stella wants to be friendly toward me, I’m certainly not going to stop her.
Here’s to hoping it doesn’t blow up in my face.
I manage to grab my messenger bag from the floor as Stella drags me out of my room. “So, where are you from?” she asks.
“Texas.”
Stella lets out a low whistle as we step into the hallway. “Long way from home. Won’t you miss your family?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no, but such an honest reply will only invite questions I have no intention, much less desire, to answer. “I’ll manage,” I say instead.
“You’re stronger than me. I’ve lived here in Central Valley for my entire life. My parents literally live like five minutes away.”
“Then why are you living on campus?” I ask before I can think better of it. Great. Now she probably thinks I’m rude.
Instead of snapping at me, she laughs and shrugs before punching the button to summon the elevator. “Wanted the full college experience. These are supposed to be the best years of our lives, right?”
“That’s what they say.” I step into the elevator behind her, wishing like hell I wasn’t so rusty in social situations.
Stella grins and hits the button for the ground floor. “I think I’m gonna like you, roomie. I really do.”
Much to my surprise, I find myself grinning right back at her. With Stella at my side, maybe Central Valley really will be my fresh start after all.
Chapter Three
Emmy
“Oh my God.” Stella cackles. “At least you’re smiling in your picture. I look like I’m constipated!”
She waves her freshly printed badge in my face to prove her point.
I try to hold in my laughter, but it is a fruitless pursuit. “You really do.”
“Shut up!” She elbows me as we meander down the sidewalk. “Food?”
“Sure, but we better skip anything with cheese.”
It takes a second for my words to click, but as they do, Stella doubles over laughing. “Oh my God!” she wheezes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, awkwardly patting her back.
She springs up, dislodging my hand from her. “I am amazing. Especially now that I know you have a sense of humor under all that doom-and-gloom.”
“Whatever,” I mumble under my breath.
“Hey, chill.” Stella’s laughter dies off. “I meant no offense. It’s normal to be a little in your feels girl. You just moved like five states away to attend college. You’re allowed to be sad and shit. I’d probably cry forever if I moved away from my family.”
“Nah, you’d be fine.”
“What makes you say that?” Stella asks, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.
Despite the burning in my cheeks, I shrug. “I don’t know. You just seem... strong.”
“I’m glad you think so. Some days, I think—” She shakes her head, clearing away the clouds that were creeping into her pretty blue eyes. “Never mind. You wanna go to Target and get pretzels and Icees?”
Stella’s transparent in her deflection, but I’d be the pot calling the kettle black if I were to say anything, so instead, I resume walking and say, “Most definitely.”
“Do you drive?” she asks before slapping her palm to her forehead. “Blonde moment! It’s not like you teleported from Texas.”
“We all have them,” I assure her, twisting a lock of my dark brown hair that’s escaped my braid around my fingers. “Even those of us on the dark side.”
“You’re cool driving us, though?”
“Yup. I’m in the lot in front of the dorm.”
Like an unwanted companion, anxiety churns in my gut as we near the parking lot. Stella seems cool, but what if she’s the kind of girl who will think less of me because my car is out of date?
No, Emmy, stop it. Don’t self-sabotage out of fear. You’re better than that and Stella doesn’t deserve to be the victim of said fear.
“This is me.” I stop at the trunk and dig my keys from my bag.
“Nice ride,” she says, skimming her hand appreciatively over the body.
If she were anyone else, I’d assume she was being disingenuous, but Stella’s face is completely open and honest. She truly believes my little old Honda is nice.
“Thanks. Bought her myself,” I say as I duck into the driver’s seat.
“Does she have a name?” Stella asks once she’s buckled.
“No...” I hedge.
The bubbly blonde to my right gasps. “What? You have to name your car. Everyone knows that, Em.”
My heart slams against my chest in tandem with my foot slamming against the brake pedal. Stella braces herself on the dash as the momentum of my sudden stop sends her forward.
“What? What is it?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Embarrassment renders me mute.
“Emmy, are you okay? You’re totally freaking me out.”
My breath stalls in my chest and my hands sweat against the leather of the steering wheel. I pinch my eyes closed and try to regulate my breathing.
Sensing something is deeply wrong, Stella softens her voice when she speaks again. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths, right?” She says each word slowly, with a deliberateness that tells me this isn’t her first rodeo with panic attacks.
“Everything is okay. You’re okay.”
I nod as I e
xhale.
“Do you think you can pull the car to the side of the road?”
I nod again before peeling my lids open and guiding my car to the shoulder. Thankfully there are no other vehicles in sight.
“What happened just now?”
So much for her thinking I’m normal. Now she knows I’m a freak.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m a great listener.”
“It...” I swallow hard. “It was the name. I, um—”
“Say no more.” Stella waves a hand in the air. “I’ll never use it again. Promise.”
Relief washes over me instantaneously. “Thank you.”
“We all have our shit, girl. No worries. Now, if you’re good to drive, I need some cinnamon-sugar goodness, stat.”
“Yeah, I am. Just tell me where to go.”
“Didn’t you luck out?” she asks as I pull back onto the road. “A bomb-ass roomie and your own personal very local tour guide.”
* * *
“Oh. My. God.” Stella pops the last of her pretzel into her mouth. “I swear, they put crack in the cinnamon. There’s no other explanation.”
“That good, huh?” I ask as I toss my trash.
“Girl. You’ll have to try one next time. You’ll never get that salty garbage again.”
“I happen to like my salty garbage, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, we all have our flaws.”
I can’t help but laugh at her antics. Stella is a breath of fresh air and exactly what my life has been missing for the last nine months. Hell, probably longer, seeing as all of the people I thought were my friends were the first to turn on me when shit hit the fan.
“You mind if I grab a few things?” I ask.
“Girl, first thing you need to know about me? I will never say no to a Target run. This is my literal happy place.”
I grin. My former friends wouldn’t be caught dead shopping at Target. Yep, Stella is everything I’ve been missing and more.
We each grab a shopping cart and, through some unspoken agreement, head toward the home section of the store.
“What all do you need?” I ask as we peruse the aisles.
