Submission {UNFIN}

Chapter Ten.

1:43 p.m., August 23, 2008. Columbia University Dormitory.

I settled my teddy bear atop the fluffy comforter that sat on the small bed supplied. From the looks of things, it seemed I'd made the room appear pretty nice, considering what it had looked like when I first arrived. My roommate had yet to arrive, and despite me being anxious to meet her, I was grateful I had the time to call my mother in peace. I pulled out my new model iPhone 3Gs, thinking of how Olivia had convinced me to switch from Blackberry to the newer company, Apple. Mindlessly, my fingers dialed my mother's number as I gazed out of the window that displayed the school's city dominated courtyard.

"Beyoncé, hallelujah," was the first thing my mother said, making me laugh. "Are you situated?"

"Yeah, I just finished up."

"How's the campus?" One of the major things my mother was worried about with Columbia was that I was far away, and she wasn't able to visit the campus with me last spring when I was offered a scholarship. We weren't amazingly fortunate, but we weren't particularly struggling. Although, since Dad died in '02, money had been tight. The scholarship was arguably one of the most bountiful blessings we'd received in a while. There was no question; I was going to Columbia. They were the only school who had offered me a full ride for all four years, plus a $3,000 stipend.

"It's really nice. My dorm is almost ten minutes from Central Park." Her smile was a beacon of light that I still felt the effects of through the phone.

"I know you've got to like that. Since nature inspires you and what not," she teased. I giggled, flopping flat on my back against the awful, uncomfortable mattress I'd had to cover with cushioning to soften up.

"I already have so many ideas for new designs, Momma. This city has so m-"

"Didn't we talk about this? Fashion design is not a career choice, and you're not majoring in that." The sigh that was coming released from my lips in irritation.

"Well, with all due respect, Momma, it's not your choice to make, it's mine." The door creaked, and in walked a tall, incredibly skinny girl with cascading, espresso-hued hair and hazel skin. "Sorry, I gotta go." I ended the call without hearing her response, knowing she wanted to curse me left and right because of my disrespectful reply. I furled my lips into a smile that I hoped seemed inviting.

"You're my roomie, huh?"

"Yeah," I replied, unsure of how to decipher her tone; was she disappointed, shocked, annoyed, happy, skeptical?

"Nice to meet you," she greeted, outstretching her hand. "I'm Joan, Joan Smalls." (Picture attached)

"Beyoncé Knowles, but everyone calls me BB," I explained, shaking her hand in greeting and helping her bring some of her things in.

"So, BB," she chuckled,"where are you from?"

"Houston, Texas. You?"

"SoHo. Not so far of a distance," she joked. "I didn't want to leave New York because, I mean it's a great place to be for models." Learning she was a model wasn't too starkly unexpected; She was literally stunning, and her jawline was one that even I would kill for. "But what's your reason?"

"Scholarship," I told her, too ashamed to talk in depth about my financial situation. Joan was dressed in what I could easily name as Vince Camuto boots, Joe Jeans, a Gucci top and adorned in jewels that were definitely not fake. Me? My outfit was slayed of course, but I had made it myself. I didn't have the resources to shop in Saks like I'd always wanted.