𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉

That day was my last interaction with the band. After getting back with Gustav, Bill told me they had some problem with their upcoming tour and needed to fly to the United States to deal with it. So, I found myself alone in my brother's house, in a city I didn't know, with my only acquaintance here possibly wanting to kill me. I thought it'd be better if I stayed in most of the time, since he was probably stalking me.

A few days ago, I started looking for part-time jobs near the college or the house. Luckily, I found a receptionist job at a simple 3-star hotel down the road, and today was my first day. I grabbed my keys, hopped into my car, and drove to the plain-looking building. I parked on the side of the road, went in, and heard a friendly voice. I looked around and saw a small, older lady with round glasses and curly grey hair behind the reception desk.

"You must be Lolita. We talked on the phone yesterday," she said, coming around the desk. "Let me show you around." She then gave me a quick tour of the hotel, showing me how to work the cameras and going over what was already said on the poster.

The tour continued, and she explained how to handle check-ins, reservations, and provided some tips on dealing with customers. It was a simple, no-frills hotel, and the job seemed straightforward.

As the day went on, I began to settle into my role as a receptionist. The work was far from glamorous, but it offered some stability, which was exactly what I needed in my current situation. The elderly lady, whose name I learned was Mrs. Anderson, was a patient teacher and showed me the ropes.

For the next few days, I began to find a sense of belonging within the routine of the hotel. Meeting and interacting with the guests allowed me to connect with people in a new city, even if it was in a limited capacity. It was a small step, but it offered me a glimmer of hope that I could regain control and independence in my life.

****

On my first day of college, I woke up feeling hopeful. I picked out my outfit: a pair of black, baggy jeans paired with a belt adorned with tiny skulls and a white sweater vest. My white Adidas shoes and a few accessories completed the look. After packing my essentials into my bag, I made my way to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

I noticed we were low on food when I opened the fridge, so I'd have to go shopping later. While I was cooking eggs, my phone rang. It was my brother. "Hey, sis, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. Things have been chaotic. How are you doing?" He asked, his voice sounding tired.

"Well, I got a job as a receptionist at that 3-star hotel down the street. I still have some extra money, and Markus hasn't shown up, so I'm okay for now," I told him, as I cooked the eggs. "I just need to go shopping later."

"I'm glad you're okay. We're likely coming home next week, but if anything comes up, just give me a call, and I'll catch the next flight back, alright? Good luck on your first day, kid," he reassured me.

"Goodbye, Georg," I smiled.

"Goodbye, Lolita," he replied before hanging up.

I finished my breakfast, gathered my things, and hopped into my car to drive to school. Finding an empty parking spot, I parked and made my way to the school entrance. I searched for my classroom, but I had a good fifteen minutes left before the first lesson, so there was no need to hurry.

As I strolled through the hallways, I couldn't help but admire the beautiful artworks adorning the walls. The school seemed to be a place filled with creativity and inspiration, and I felt fortunate to be a part of it.

When I finally found the correct classroom, it was already buzzing with people of all kinds. There were students my age, some older, with green or purple hair, and one girl wearing a top that was more revealing than a bra. I chose a seat between two girls—one covered in tattoos from her neck down, and the other with rainbow-colored eyebrows. It was clear that this school welcomed a diverse and eclectic group of individuals.

The professor entered the classroom and wrote his name on the board, 'Mr. Spocks.' "Good morning, students. I'm Mr. Spocks. Some of you may remember me from last year, and welcome to the history of art," he began. I took out my plain notebook and wrote down the date.

"What's that?" the girl with the cool eyebrows whispered.

"Um, a notebook?" I replied, somewhat confused by her question.

"I know it's a notebook, I'm not dumb. But why is it so plain?" she inquired.

"I don't know, I just didn't have time to decorate it," I fibbed, even though I preferred my notebooks plain.

"I can decorate it for you if you want. I'm Jessica Byers, by the way," she offered, extending her hand for a handshake. I accepted it and shook her hand. "I'm Lolita Listing. Nice to meet you," I smiled in return.

She froze, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized my face. It was a strange reaction, and I couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy, but perhaps this was just how people were in art schools. Maybe I just need to get used to it.

"Wait, Lolita Listing, as in Georg Listing's little sister?" she asked, her words leaving me in a state of shock. I wasn't sure how to respond. In general, it was quite rare for people outside our private circle to recognize me, as Georg hardly ever spoke about our family to protect us from paparazzi and crazy fans.

"Yeah, that's me. How do you know that I'm related to Georg?" I asked, being cautious. It could be that she had heard it in an interview, but I couldn't help but wonder if she might be one of those obsessive fans.

"Some of my friends are really big Tokio Hotel fans, and they talk about the band a lot. I overheard them discussing an interview where your name came up. They'd be thrilled to meet you. Are you busy later?" she inquired.

"Yeah, sorry, I have some errands to run, so maybe another time," I politely declined.

"Oh, that's a shame, but I understand. You must have a busy schedule. I can't believe we have a celebrity here on campus. Just wait until others find out!" She was clearly excited, but I couldn't have someone spreading the word about who I was.

"Jessica, please, don't tell anyone. Georg doesn't talk about his family much for a reason," I pleaded with her. Her smile faded for a moment, but it didn't take long for a mischievous smirk to spread across her face. I recognized that expression; Markus used it often when we were together. She was about to blackmail me.

"I won't tell anyone if you arrange a private meeting with Tokio Hotel for my friends and me," she grinned. "And let me decorate all your notebooks," she added.

I let out a sigh. I didn't have a choise. "The band isn't currently in Germany, but I'll let you know when they're back," I explained. It was only my first day, and I was already in some sort of trouble. This wasn't going as smoothly as I had hoped.

"Deal," she replied, smiling with satisfaction. She opened her over-decorated, shiny notebook and began making notes. On the other hand, I struggled to concentrate for the remainder of the lesson. I doodled some small sketches of birds and skeletons, but none of them felt good enough for me to later tear the page out and put the drawing in my sketchbook.