Kristen made an effort to talk more the next day. After all, this was the last time she’d see her parents for months. It seemed like an hour at most before they’d reached the outskirts of the city. She could see her dad’s hands clenching on the wheel of their dirty van as he looked forward at all the towering buildings. For someone who built houses, he would have preferred that the Earth was covered in nothing but trees. If it weren’t for the snow, he probably would have had them “living off the land,” as he liked to call it.
It wasn’t just the buildings, she knew, that were worrying him. They’d been warned about trying to drive in the city. Countless people had told them to fly, and ship her things there. But her parents didn’t want to spend more money than they had to, and her mom had never trusted planes, so despite all the warnings, they’d set off in their own aging blue mini-van, their Michigan license plate and “I’m a Yooper!” bumper sticker sticking out horribly among the mass of inconspicuous black town cars and taxi cabs.
Kristen wasn’t the only one feeling ill at ease. She actually saw her dad spray a little washer fluid on the windshield and turn the wipers on for a minute to get rid of the bugs and dirt that had taken residence on the glass. Her mother took her feet off the dashboard, and sat up rather straight in her seat, wincing every time someone honked at them.
Her dad checked his paper directions nearly as much as he looked at the road. Everyone was in such a rush. If the lack of trees was a culture shock, the constant hurry was like another universe. The more they neared Greenwich Village, the more nervous Kristen became. Everything was new. New people. New place. New lifestyle. New York couldn’t have been more different from Big Bay.
Finally, they pulled up to the campus where the car was immediately rushed at. A group of students was there to take her things to her room – thankfully, she’d labeled her bags with her name and room number, as otherwise, she had no clue where it would end up. Her dad was pointed to a parking garage a block over and she and her mother went running after her things.
She was living in Loeb Hall on East 12th Street, a large co-ed dorm with primarily freshman. Every floor had five suites, so she’d have one roommate technically, but essentially she’d have three. They walked into her building and she was approached by a very bouncy girl with wide brown eyes and hair piled up into a bun on the very top of her head. There were red chopsticks sticking through the bun, and she was chewing gum without closing her mouth. “Hi!” she chirped. “What’s your name? What floor are you on?” She tugged at the hem of her thick woolen sweater, an odd choice in the late August heat.
“Fourteenth,” she told her. “And I’m Kristen Murphy.”
She picked up a clipboard from the table she’d been sitting at when they walked in, and flipped a few pages. “Great! I’m Elsie, and I’m the HR. So you’ll probably see me around here a lot.” She smiled brightly, and looked back down at her clipboard. “Your roommates already checked in. So I’ll just give you a few papers… you’ll need to sign this. It’s just a housing agreement saying that if anything’s broken, you’ll be held responsible blah blah blah, and then here is your welcome present…” she handed her a paper bag decorated with glittery letters that said “Welcome to Parsons!” Elsie started walking towards a door to the left of where they stood. “Over here is a lounge, and there are also various art studios and study room’s throughout the building. The elevator is back in here…” she led her back where they’d came from. “And there are stairs if you ever don’t want to wait… but on the fourteenth floor… I’d wait.” She laughed, and Kristen tried to smile back. “Anyway, you can head on up and start unpacking. Your RA will come by and meet you sometime today, and you’ll have a floor meeting planned for later this week – there should be information on your door about it.”
Kristen nodded, trying to take in all this new information at once, thanked her and pushed the button for the elevator. Her mother looked overwhelmed.
~
Alessandra Cosette Dupont was a fashion design stereotype from her over-the-top French name, to her assymetrical, shiny black bob, to her ghostly pale skin and red lips. She might as well have worn sunglasses, a beret, and a striped shirt to top it all off – not that her clean, black clothes didn’t do enough for the effect she was giving.
Kristen Elizabeth Murphy felt very, very American, and not at all chic and stylish as she entered the room in her homemade plaid shirt and skinny jeans, rolled at the cuff. She stood in the doorway for a minute, playing with the hem of her camisole. She suddenly felt very subconscious about the length of her hair, it’s golden brown color, and about her tan, uneven from spending the summer outside in a mixture of t-shirts and bathing suits. She tugged the shoulder of her shirt up a little higher to cover the varying shades she was sporting in the shape of all her swimsuit straps.
“Hi,” she said tentatively. “I’m Kristen… you must be my roommate.” She tried to give a smile, but she was worried it looked fake. At home, Kristen had never had a problem making friends. She’d always been upbeat, and natural, and generally well-liked.
“Alessandra,” she replied, offering a hand with a flourish. Kristen took it, noticing the glint of her silver watch. It looked expensive, and suddenly, Kristen was a little worried to unpack. Her family shopped at Wal-Mart, and the only jewelry she owned came from local venders.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, trying hard to push all her misgivings aside. It couldn’t be so bad right? She’d known the people here would be different, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t like her.
Her mother had crossed the room and was speaking to Mrs. Dupont, who looked every bit as uppity as her daughter, and who was standing several feet farther away from Mrs. Murphy than was necessary. Her nose was turned up and she was regarding her with an air of displeasure, probably stemming from the fact that Mrs. Murphy was sporting a visor on top of her sloppy gray hair.
For once, Kristen was glad her mother couldn’t take a hint, and wished she could only be half as self-confident. She turned away from Alessandra, who had already gone back to making up her bed, and began to unpack some of the Tupperware boxes that had already been delivered to her room.
~~~
Hope you guys like the new chapter! I'm just anxious to get to chapter four already... that's where it gets interesting. But the first few are necessary to set the scene. So sorry if it's a little slow for now.
Also, I'm still thinking a lot about Curtain Call. Stupid writer's block... I WILL get back to it though. Promise.
