All good, I have my bags. It’s super late – call you tomorrow? Love you too xo
Three dots hover on the screen then disappear. Then come back and disappear again. I hold my breath, staring at the screen, chances of falling asleep racing away with every second. Right as the screen goes dark, Mom’s name pops up again.
Don’t worry about us. As long as you’re having a good time.
No Xs or Os this time, no ‘I love you’. Just good old-fashioned Meyers family passive aggressive behaviour.
I slide my phone facedown on my desk and stare at the ceiling, regretting the tone of my message, until I finally fall asleep.
When I hear a knock on my door at nine a.m., I’ve already been up for hours, showered, shampooed, deep-conditioned and I’ve checked the contents of my bag three times. I’m so ready to go. Most importantly, I’m happy in my carefully selected first-day outfit. Cute plaid mini, oversized blue sweater and screw you, Breanna Kershaw, I will have my academic-chic redemption.
Throwing open the door, I see Alice, sleepy-eyed, in drawstring pants and an enormous sweatshirt, the kind of outfit that would make me look like I was wearing a sleeping bag, but on her, looks chic and intentional.
‘Hi!’ I grab my bag from the bed and slip out into the hallway. ‘You came!’
‘Said I would.’
We had agreed to walk down to the enrolment centre together but I’m all too aware people don’t always do what they say they will. She ruffles her short red hair and gives me a once-over.
‘Love the outfit.’
As if she wasn’t my favourite person on campus already.
‘Be warned, I am not a morning person.’ Alice yawns, covering her mouth with her whole arm. ‘I need coffee. Lots of coffee.’
I lock the door, hitch my leather tote up on my shoulder and point towards the kitchen. ‘You want a cup before we leave? I brought some instant from home.’
She pushes my hand down, then links her arm through mine. ‘Lesson number one on my unofficial guide to everything-you-need-to-know-about-Hemden. Everyone gets coffee from The Snug. There’ll be a line a mile long but it’s worth it for the pumpkin spice mochaccino, believe me.’
‘You’re sure we shouldn’t enrol first and get coffee after?’
She stares like I’ve just suggested we sacrifice ourselves to the lesser gods rather than wait five extra minutes to get a drink.
‘Don’t make me regret adopting you,’ she says, pulling me down the hallway towards the front door. ‘Coffee first, everything else second.’
‘What do you mean you can’t remember my name?’
A girl’s voice carries through the heavy wood of the door next to mine, followed by a crash, a bang and muffled male cursing.
‘Someone had an exciting evening,’ Alice says when another loud thud is followed by a high-pitched shriek. ‘Bold move to break the no-overnight-guests rule on the first night.’
‘We should go get that coffee,’ I say, desperate to be gone before Ethan or whoever he has in there make a dramatic exit. ‘Didn’t you say there would be a line?’
‘Yes but—’ She stalls, right as something smashes against the wall, and winces. ‘Is it me or did that sound expensive?’
‘Yes, and I don’t want to be here when campus security shows up.’
I grab her hand and we’re out of the flat, the front door slamming shut behind us.
‘Is there really a no-overnight-guests rule in the dorms?’
‘Yep.’ Alice nods as we stroll across the quad, the grass still wet with dew and sticking to my boots. ‘If you get caught with someone in your room after eleven, you both get fined. They claim it’s a fire safety thing. Everyone ignores it, obviously. What kind of idiot lets hundreds of students live together, puts a subsidized bar on campus, then expects them not to shag? We’re all adults, it’s absurd.’
‘The logic does seem kinda flawed,’ I agree. ‘How do they enforce it even? Wait, the rooms aren’t monitored, aren’t they?’
‘With cameras?’ She shakes her head. ‘No, they’re much more devious. Every few weeks, they’ll set off a fire alarm in the middle of the night and do a head count. Someone always gets caught out. Bit of a giveaway that you weren’t in your own room if you’re stoodoutside in nothing but your knickers at three in the morning in the middle of January.’
The thought alone fills me with dread.
