1
Mia
I’ve been waiting my whole life for this exact moment.
Blinking at the beauty of everything in front of me, I grip the handle of one of my suitcases to help keep me upright. Hemden University looks more like a church than a school, which makes sense since I’ve been worshipping this place for as long as I can remember. The gothic arches and dreaming spires glow golden in the mid-September sun, and I’m breathless as I pass through the wrought-iron double gates, easily twice my height. I can’t believe I’m actually here. A long, long way from Valley Springs, South Carolina.
Everything is exactly how I pictured it, from the old buttermilk-yellow walls of the buildings to the emerald-green grass of the quad, and even though everyone at home said it rains all the time in England, today the sun is shining in a brilliant sky. It’s like a dream, only better, because I’m pretty sure I’m awake. Not one hundred per cent certain because, wow, jet lag is real, but as sure as anyone as caffeinated as I am could be. The coffee was a necessity after waking up, crushed and drooling, in the middle seat of the back row on the night flight from Charlotte to Heathrow. Not that I care. I’d have swum here if I had to.
After all the hours I’ve spent studying the Hemden prospectus, I know the name of every building by heart and recognize them allas soon as I set eyes on them. In front of me is the iconic Hazelwood Library, the Goldbeck Theatre stands off to the left, the Lawton building to the right, huge, imposing structures, built hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Hemden has seen thousands of students come and go, some of the brightest and most brilliant minds ever to have lived. But right now, in this moment, it’s all mine. And when I join the swarm of students flowing in through the gates, I can feel myself smiling. Stepping out of the shadow of my small Southern town and finally standing on my own two feet, I feel like I’ve come home.
Hemden University is where I’m meant to be.
Correction, Carpenter House is where I’m meant to be.
As if choosing to bathe in cologne so strong I’m afraid I’ll still be able to smell it on my deathbed wasn’t bad enough, my generously scented Uber driver also dropped me off in the wrong damn place. According to the little paper map that came in my orientation packet, Carpenter House, my hall, is at least a ten-minute walk from where I am right now and I don’t know if the wheels on my overloaded suitcases are up to the challenge. While the ancient flagstones might be charming to look at, I can’t help but feel this is not the kind of terrain Target had in mind during their product development process. With a frown, I shrug off my favourite cardigan, sadly infected with Eau de Uber Driver, and tuck it through the straps of my backpack, hoping the scent will wash out and I won’t have to burn it on a pyre with a bunch of purifying herbs.
Any other time, any other place, being dropped off in the wrongspot might’ve sent me spiralling but today is different. Today, I am cool, calm and collected. Today, I am Mia Meyers, twenty years old and ready for adventure, a mature woman who walks into her power with her head held high … and immediately trips over an unseen object the moment she takes her eyes off the ground.
One second, I’m striding confidently alongside the quad, the next, I’m eating grass. The ground rushes towards me at lightning speed but I manage to fling out my hands just in time to break my fall instead of my face, suitcases crashing down beside me.
Ow ow ow.
All around I hear excited chatter, gasps of surprise and awkward laughter, and I lie still for a moment, wondering if it’s possible to spontaneously combust out of sheer humiliation. Nope, unfortunately not. Looks like I’m going to have to live through this.
‘For fuck’s sake, Bryn! I told you to move that bag. Are you trying to kill someone?’
A sweet, high-pitched voice coloured with frustration sounds out above me and I roll onto my side, looking down to see something green looped around my ankles like a snare. What the hell? A face that matches the voice moves into sight, blocking out the sun, a girl about my age with an apologetic look on her face. She’s so pretty, copper-coloured bob, perfect eyeliner, at least one thousand times cooler than me – and that was before I ate shit right in front of her.
‘You all right?’ she asks, hands on her knees, bent over as she inspects me.
I nod and try to speak.
‘I think so.’
I do not think so. I am not all right. Thirty seconds. That’s how long my cool, calm and collected persona lasted before I fell on myass. Trying my very best not to let the tears burning behind my eyes sneak down my cheeks, I carefully prod the grass stain on the knee of my brand-new, too expensive, these-are-the-jeans-that-will-change-your-life jeans and wince.
My first time wearing them and they’ve already failed the assignment.
‘We’re sorry,’ the girl says in a British accent. ‘You’re the third person to trip over that bag today. I bloody well told Bryn to move it.’
The handles of a tote bag, almost the same shade of green as the lawn, unravel themselves from around my ankles and snake backwards across the grass, a sheepish-looking guy with dark eyes and short brown hair dragging the bag away from the scene of the crime. Behind him sits a semi-circle of strangers, staring at me with a combination of concern and curiosity. This is not the first impression I dreamed of making.
‘Don’t worry about it, I’m totally okay,’ I lie fast, casually sitting upright as though my knee is not throbbing with excruciating pain. ‘It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
One thing about me, if I can blame myself for something going wrong, even if that thing is indisputably someone else’s fault, you can bet your ass I’ll find a way. Middle child and only daughter, reporting for duty.
The copper-haired girl offers me a smile and even though all I want to do is hobble away to my room, ice my knee until I feel well enough to crawl into a hole and never climb out, I force myself to smile back. This is progress. This is growth.
‘I’m Alice,’ she says, dropping back to the ground and folding her long legs into a sitting position. ‘First day?’
‘What gave it away?’
She hands me the map I didn’t realize I’d lost in all the drama.
‘Most returning students can find their way around without one of these. So, you’re a newbie. Fresher?’
I shake my head, clutching the map.
