Black Masquerade

August

Kathleen Mes has flames for eyes, and they're staring right into my own. 

She's also holding a pocket knife and using it to cut up her gas station chicken strips. Why didn't she just get nuggets?

She asks me, "Since you're a Junior, why are you looking for a new roommate?"

"Not a new roommate, a first one," I say. "I won some scholarship money, so I decided to transfer Austin University from community college."

I still can't believe I did it. My heart's beating like crazy just thinking about it. I thought I'd have to graduate from some branch location or no name college to afford schooling, but look at me now: a student of AU!

"Ah. So you're one of the smart girls," says Kathleen.

"That depends on who you're comparing me to... but yes," I say.

Kathleen is wearing these amazing black boots that lace up to her knees and give her at least an extra two inches. Her shorts are a sooty looking denim, and she's got her arms in the sleeves of a soft flannel. It's falling off her shoulders, and I'm living for that.

I found Kathleen on AU's roommate match site, which is  a lot like I figured a dating site would be (minus all the hot people). I matched with her since she's the same age as me and wants someone clean, which is great because I also want a tidy roommate. 

Ok, yes, and I picked her because she looked super cool, and beautiful beneath all the cool. She's the exception to "minus all the hot people." You've got me.

Kathleen is the one who signed the lease to the apartment, so she's the one who picks the roommate. She arranged a meeting here, at the Chikin-Likin gas station right off -campus, to interview---more like interrogate---me and decide whether or not to share her space.

Maybe I shouldn't  be too upset if she refuses me---It's probably dangerous to share an apartment with someone whose appearance causes dyspnea. 

"When's your earliest class?" she asks.

"Ten A.M." I reply.

"Thank God. I am sick of being woken up by 8 A.M. ruckus. Listen, for every class in the future, 10 A.M. is the rule, understand me?" she says.

"Understood."

I swallow. Her flaming eyes are burning me. I look away to fan my face. I wish she'd stop staring at me.

I decide to ask, "You're the one who's already been here for two years; why do you need a new roommate?"

She answers, "Last girl dropped out.  Couldn't understand enough to keep even Ds. Good riddance; she was a terrible roommate. Ha. Eh, I guess I was terrible too from her perspective."

"Why's that?"

"I brought back girls all the time."

"Oh. I wonder why she didn't like that. I'd love it you brought your girls over; I need to meet more people."

"Lidia, Honey... No. Those girls weren't my friends."

She makes a sexual gesture with her pocket knife and her fingers. 

"Ohhhhhhh. Well. I suppose we could... exchange numbers? And you could, you know, give me a heads up before you... you know? And maybe give me a few weeks to settle in before you... start bringing people home."

"That's fair," she says and holds her phone out toward me. 

There's a vintage-looking mushroom on the back of her phone case. She twirls the pocket knife around her fingers while I type.