Jump the Gun

1. Hippies and Vampires

BRIAR
six months later

Angel Hills really lives up to its name.

The cherry blossom trees scattered throughout the small, cozy-looking campus are just one of the scenes that catch my eye as Mom and I carry boxes toward my residence hall. This entire town feels like something straight out of twilight, just without the vampires and werewolves. I hope.

I thought I'd absolutely hate it here along the dreary coast of Oregon, but it appears that some things that glitter are gold. I almost scoffed when my high school counselor recommended Angel Hills University to me. Everyone was always hyping it up to be something that I thought was unachievable in a college. But here I am, standing corrected. I didn't want to choose a college just because it was pretty. But the Angel Hills art program grabbed my attention. So I've learned to look past the common misconceptions about small towns in Oregon after being raised in San Francisco.

"This place really is something," Mom gushes, her eyes wandering as we trudge down the cobblestone path with all of my possessions in tow.

"Sure is," I sigh, taking note of the tall, brown building we approach. South Haven Hall. Girls hold the door for us, a few of them chatting with each other. I assume they're moving in today, too, and are on their way out for more boxes. I'm hoping they won't be anything like the girls back in San Francisco.

The foyer of the building is spacious, a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling, wood paneling down the walls. A living room area with dark green couches to my right is full of more girls, sitting criss-cross-applesauce in their pajamas. To my left is what looks like a kitchen, furnished with dark wooden cabinets. The whole place looks very small-town-in-the-North-West. Not at all what I'm used to, but I'll manage.

"I'm on the third floor," I tell Mom, checking the card I was given at registration. "Doesn't look like there's an elevator, either."

She shoots me a look and sighs before grabbing the boxes again and carefully making her way up the stairs. I follow suit, dragging my suitcase and three backpacks full of stuff. It seemed like the easiest way to carry things at the time while I was packing, but now, my back is numb. After three flights of stairs, where we occasionally passed girls rushing down past us, causing Mom to almost fall, we finally reach the floor that my dorm is located on. Of course, my dorm happens to the be the one at the very end of the hall on the left.

I fling open the creaky wooden door, revealing a small, dimly lit room with two twin beds. A girl with curly blonde—almost white—hair springs up from her position on the bed against the right wall. The moment of truth. 

"Hi! You must be Briar!" She immediately shakes my free hand, giving a small wave to where my Mom stands in the hall behind me. "I'm Marlee."

"Hey," I say hesitantly, dragging my luggage into the small space, Mom trailing behind. Marlee grabs some boxes from her hands, helping out. So far, she's not absolutely terrible, so I'd say it's a win.

"Thank you dear," Mom says, addressing my new roommate. "I'm Ellen."

We begin sorting the boxes on my bed, something I've dreaded doing since we left the house. It wasn't hard to leave. In fact, I had to get out of that town. But everything is a reminder of how guilty I feel leaving Mom there.

"This is cute." Mom smiles the room. I admire it, too, my eyes traveling over Marlee's side. Rock band posters line the wall, and a lamp is diffusing some kind of air that smells like lavender. She's probably not a hippie, but I wouldn't put her too far from it. Despite her weird display of decor, she's dressed pretty normally. A Mazzy Star t-shirt and jeans make up her outfit, complete with fuzzy socks—no shoes. I feel utterly bland standing next to her.