Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him-it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at leas...
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A few days after moving in, I'm set to begin the volunteer work my dad set up for me. Afterall, it was just another stipulation in the long list of expectations he set forth when I showed interest in moving on with my life and going to college. Which is why I pointedly ignored him each time he brought it up in previous weeks. But even with a string attached, I couldn't hide the excitement it pulled from me to finally have something to do.
I like to do things by a schedule, to anticipate what's to come. Having an agenda leaves little room for error. Or at the very least, you have at least thought about the potential errors that could occur. Something I've worked hard to create for myself, to maximize the success but minimize the mistakes.
It's the very reason I quickly read the informational email as soon as it hit my inbox a few days ago. The long winded could-have-been-an-info-flyer message eagerly greeted me and thanked me for dedicating myself to making everyone #new2state feel welcomed from their very first moments on campus.
I didn't know hashtags were still used unironically for people who weren't trying to promote something on social media, but I would gladly check students in and hand them a key with as little interaction as possible.
I've been told that my body language doesn't scream approachable, but rather than a character flaw I consider it my most charming attribute. It takes most people way too long to realize that awkward silences are a good thing. Small talk isn't necessary for every single person you meet, especially on a campus this size. The chances of ever seeing any of these people again is slim. And if I do see them, the chances of me interacting with them voluntarily are next to none.
Niceties don't matter for handing a key and a cart to incoming students. It's nothing more than a step by step process. Repetition. I could do a meaningless task like that for hours.
In all of my planning, though, I didn't account for the unpredictable errors that could come along and throw me off my game. Like the sound of construction going on outside my window right now before the sun has even begun peeking through the cracks in the blinds. Several machines sound off simultaneously like a symphony of deafening assembly work.
I bury my head under the covers searching for relief before my ears start bleeding. I reach one arm out of my cocoon and pull my headphones off the windowsill and turn on my sleep playlist until the sounds of ocean waves crashing onto the shore fills my ears. The jackhammer seems to take this as a challenge, because the second I hit play he ups his anty. I suspect that the sound of the concrete breaking could be heard from space.
I crack the window open slightly and attempt to scream at them, but instead of a reply or a reprieve in noise, I'm given a bug straight to the back of my throat. I instantly begin to cough and gag simultaneously for a few seconds before I reseal the window and accept my defeat.
