The Unlikely Resident of Room 313

Chapter 5

The first week of classes was a whirlwind of sounds, sensations, and a multitude of feelings all wrapped up into one giant butterfly in my chest. Alarm bells chirped from behind closed doors. The bathrooms quickly became a battle zone of shower-lines, conquering counter space, and outfits that ranged from athleisure to right off a European runway. Twenty-thousand students and faculty descended on the red-bricked, blue bannered campus, starting from the first bells chiming the start of eight o'clock morning classes, and all the way through lunch.

On our family trips to big cities, the traffic of people squished together and hurrying past one another was expected. The sidewalks were small, the buildings vanished in the clouds, and space was limited. Here, the landscape was open and free; there were trees and sidewalks and lots of open space to spread out. I checked my class schedule, checked the walking time, and my legs ached as I stepped into the correct building. (After double and triple checking the board outside said McMillian Hall instead of McMichael Hall or McDreamy Hall). I was proud of myself for sitting down and starting a conversation with the person beside me—a sweet international student from Hong Kong.

"Sweetie! How are you?" Mom asked when I called her after my last morning class. How in the world was it Thursday? 

Mondays, Wednesday, and Thursdays were my busiest days. As I entered the Demetrius Student Center, voices echoed across the high ceilings, reminding me of the rapid buzzes of bees in their hives. The main entrance housed a cushy study area with chairs and tables, twin fireplaces resting on either side of the long, rectangular room. Students lounged and ate, staring into their phones, laptops, and textbooks. A sign hung from the dome-shaped ceiling, welcoming students, while a circular informational desk sat in the center of the room. When I passed the archways into the belly of the building, my eyes widened at the sight before me. Five, oval-shaped levels overlooked shiny white floors dotted with tables filled with eager students. I saw the outlines of bodies waiting in endless lines, and sweet and savory scents wafted between the chatter, causing my stomach to tighten with hunger.

"I'm good," I told her. "Starving."

I thought an hour between my morning and afternoon classes would be ample time to eat. Now, I wasn't so sure.

"Why don't you go to the Main Street Market?" Mom suggested, seemingly reading my mind through the phone. "It's the convenience store on the fourth floor." Eating a frozen meal for my first lunch of the semester didn't sound very appealing. But I had no other choice.

"Good idea."

"Do you have any plans for dinner Friday night?" she asked. "Your dad and I were wondering if you'd like to come to the Alumni Finale Dinner. It won't go past nine o' clock, I promise."

I was glad she couldn't see me grimace. Ah, yes. Let me spend my second Friday as a college student as my parent's shadow.  

"I heard a lot of the other committee members have kids in your year! Lots of cute boys! A great way to make new friends! What do you think? We'd pick you up at seven thirty."

Any other time, I might have wished for lightning to strike me down. The last Alumni Foundation dinner involved a lot of uncomfortable small talk. There were so many questions about whether or not I would join the sorority my mother went to. I received heaps of unsolicited advice about my major and graduate school and job applications. The only upside to that night was the fact that it was hosted on a fancy yacht in Portland.

I didn't tell my mom no.

Now that I was at OU, the advice on my future intrigued me. Though I'd only been here a week,  the looming threat of choosing  a major swung over my head like an anvil. Networking was the way of the game, right? The thought of meeting more people on campus intrigued me. Melody double majored in Accounting and Music Composition, so we didn't share any classes. I didn't see anyone I recognized from the dorms. I need more familiar faces.