Prejudice

Chapter 2

The car ride was spent with my parents being over-protective, as usual, but today, I didn’t really mind it. “You’ll text me when you’ve arrived?” “Yes, of course mum.” “And you’re sure you have everything?” “Yes papa.” “And you’ll come home in a month” “Of course mum” (something like this, back and forth, until we arrived). It only took a few moments from my old flat to the station, and when we arrived, my parents both began to cry, and I’m being perfectly honest, so did I. We hugged for a while, telling each other how much we’d miss one another and how we loved each other, and before I knew it, I had my ticket in my hand and was on the platform. The station was abuzz as always, but particularly due to school season. I shoved my way through the crowd of parents, teens, children and everyone in between, and finally made it to my train. As I stepped on, I looked down the corridors, both lined with university students. I was suddenly struck with great fear. I made my best attempt to draw no attention to myself and burrowed through the hall. I searched up and down for a few, and finally found an empty car, seriously wishing not to have to socialize with anyone at the moment (I’m not an extraordinarily social person, so I’ve been told so many times). I got in, shut the door to the car, placed my case on the overhead compartment and pulled out my book and cell phone, before sitting down. I open my book-Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, a terrific choice-but before I could get more than twenty words into it, I hear the door click open. ‘Uuuuhhhh’ I thought, can’t a woman just read it peace?’, but as I look up, my thought pattern changes. It’s a young man, about 6’, dashing brown hair brilliant eyes of a colour I’ve never seen before and a cute crooked smile. “Uh, hey, mine if I sit here?” he says, motioning to the car. “Uh, no, not-a” but before I can finish the sentence, and boy with black hair and a little moustache comes up behind him, slapping him on the shoulders, asking him to come to a car. He gives me a sideways smile, and apologizes. “Please, don’t…” but before I can finish my sentence, he’s whisked away by his friend. I sunk back into the seat. ‘Uuuuhhhh’ I think, “stupid moustache guy. Didn’t even hear his name. Probably has a girlfriend though…Never mind. Forget about him’. I reopen my book, and the train jerked forward. ‘Well, at least I get the car to myself’. I pulled out my cell phone and open my contacts. I went to Gideon’s number, pressed the phone icon and held the cellular to my ear.

Gideon was my best friend in London. We’d been best friends since middle school, when those girls started picking on me for my acne (which is gone now, thank you very much), and he cussed them out, and told them to “go to hell”. Good old Gideon. We’d always protected each other. He was now over in New York studying in America, but we still decided that our friendship would never end.

“’Sup bitch” I heard from the other end. I laughed. “Damn boy, America’s changed you”. Now he laughed. “Converting. No more tea, just Mountain Dew”. I made an over exaggerated gasp. “How dare you!”. “Just kidding, tea is “in” over here. I’m just like, yeah, tea is “in” over there two. Get. With. It. Patriots.” “Promise you won’t be patronizing to the Americans”. “I make no promises”. I laughed again. “You never have.” “So are you there yet? How are the grounds? The dorms? The riiich people”. “Ha, no, on the train now”. “Well, I expect a full report when you do arrive”. “You deserve nothing less”. “Duh. Now tell me. How attractive are the people? Because theory is, richer you are, better your face looks”. “Oh yes, everyone here looks like a supermodel”. “Complimenting yourself much? But never mind, go on”. “Well there was this one boy…we only met for a second, but…” “You don’t mention boys often. This one much be hot. Like, Mr. Darcy hot”. I start to crack up. “You’re the only one who understands me Gideon”. “Forever and always. Uh. America is so…different than I thought it would be”. “What do you mean?”. “Well, there are not flags on every door, no one has attempted to jump me, may have spoken too soon on that one, and the food isn’t lousy”. “Good to know you’re getting off well”. “I am. Have to go. Call you later?” “Course”. “Talk to you soon, bye”. “Bye”.

I put the phone down, into my lap and heave a heavy sigh. I missed Gideon already. I was relatively certain I was never going to find someone like him here. Someone who understood me, laughed with me, helped me. ‘Why did I even come here? I was accepted to other schools, with other people. People who wouldn’t judge me, people who were accepting.

‘No, no I did accept here and I am going to Cambridge and that is that’. I sat forward in my seat to peek out into the hall. ‘Well at least the boys aren’t bad looking. Could be worse. Could be unattractive and mean’.

The train rode along for a good 40 minutes, until we finally reached Cambridge, and when we did, I was sure to take my time getting off. I was one of the last people to exit the train, one of the last people to enter the platform. When I did step onto the platform, everyone else was socializing. Big groups of girls, big groups of guys, couples kissing each other for the first time since the spring, all of them in designer khakis, Ralph Lauren polo’s, Tory Burch blouses, etc. I felt seriously underdressed in my Jack Wills hoodie, Abercrombie jeans and converse. I lugged my heavy suitcase across the platform of the station, through he large group of students, and finally exited the station. When I finally got outside, I was astounded at the grounds. The building was enormous, the greens were the brightest I’d seen. Everything was beautiful. “FIRST YEAR STUDENTS FOR DORMING” I heard a loud voice yell from a table a few feet away. “Hello, I’m Lilian Alice”. “Lilian…Alice…” she said looking through her list, “ah yes. Here you are love, dorm number 221. Here’s your key, dorms are straight behind” she said, pointing to a magnificent building. It reminded me a bit of the architecture of my old flat. I thanked the woman, and rushed to the dorm building. The grand wooden doors were surprisingly easy to open, but dragging my heavy case up two flights proved quite difficult. Eventually, I got to the top of the stairs and entered the corridor. The whole hallway was abuzz of girls yelling, hugging, and doing whatever it is girls do. My room was right at the front of the hallway, by the stairwell, 221. The door was open just a crack, and when I walked in, I could tell my roommate had already moved in. The far wall was covered in posters of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones and blink-182 and Pink Floyd. In the far right corner there were stacks of records and CD’s, sitting next to them, a record player. The far right bed had plaid red flannel bedding, and on the dresser there was an iPhone 6 and a Mac-Air. On the other side of the room, the wall was painted a plain grey, the bed was unmade, the nightstand was empty and my other cases were in front of the bed. I fully entered the room, placed my case on the empty bed, and began to unpack. I had successfully unpacked my books and put some of my clothes on the bed when I heard another person enter the room. “Uh, hey”. I turned around to see a girl, an inch or two shorter than I with pixie-cut brown hair, wearing a flannel that resembled the bedspread, leggings and black combat books. “Hey” I said back. “So, you’re my roommate?” she asked. “That’s what they tell me”. She looked at me, up and down, almost judging me, and after a moment, she stuck out her hand and said “I’m Alexis”. I smiled and shook her hand. “I’m Lilian”. “Cool name”, she said, nodding approvingly. “Thanks mate you too”. “You can call me Al, if you want”. “Alright, cool”. I returned to my packing, pulling out a few sweaters, before she said, “wait, let me guess”. “Guess what?” “Well, stacks beyond stacks of books, about twenty jumpers, I’d bet 20 quid you’re a…English major? Or literature or something of that nature”. “Great guess, yeah Literature and English language. And for you…um, music theory?” She shook her head. “How ‘bout…history?” She shook her head again. “Chemistry”. “Really?! Wow, that’s cool!” I was surprised. She didn’t seem like a science-y person. “Yup, so if you do my book reports, I’ll do your lab reports”. I laughed. I think I was going to start to like Al. She was really cool, didn’t seem mean. “Deal. I hate science anyway. Well, that is unless it’s Doctor Who”. Al laughed “ha ha yes or what about Sherlock”? “Oh my god yes perfection”. “We need to discuss this further. Let’s go grab some tea”. “Well I gotta finish unpacking…” “I’ll help you after, but let’s go. Tea takes president over all”. Yeah, I was definitely going to like this girl.