The Unlikely Resident of Room 313

Chapter 6

Melody's room was not haunted.

Much to her disappointment.

Just as Melody began her research–-began to prepare for the ultimate ghost hunt fit for a TV special—the source of the supposed hauntedness was discovered. In the newly renovated building, in what was intended to be a storage closet, the contractor forgot to close a duct correctly. The closet was turned into a dorm room quickly and without proper inspection. That in turn allowed a rambunctious squirrel to run amok under the guise of a visitor from another world.

Most of me was relieved. Part of me was disappointed because ghost hunting sounded pretty interesting. All of me was glad she didn't have to relocate to another dorm while they fixed it.

Friday morning was a chaotic one. I hit the snooze button too many times, resulting in a longer shower line, and an even longer wait to grab a cup of coffee. I arrived five minutes late to my first class of the day: Introductory English. Unlike my other classes, this one consisted of about thirty people, so I couldn't sneak in undetected. All eyes were on me as I fumbled to the nearest empty seat, a collective gasp wavering from the group when I almost knocked over an iced coffee with my backpack.

Thankfully, the owner snatched it away before it was too late.

"Sorry," I half whispered to the instructor, Eloise. She was young. Barely in her mid-twenties. First-year introductory English courses were taught by PhD students.

"It's okay," Eloise said from behind her laptop. "I understand your first week can be a bit hectic."

She reminded me of a high-end fashion blogger, with dark hair slicked into a clean bun at the back of her head. Her cream suit beautifully contrasted the deepness of her skin tone, and her tortoise-shell glasses were accented gold to match her jewelry. The projector screen behind her sprang to life with three pictures of hardcovers we'd study this semester. Neither the names nor the covers and their authors looked familiar.

"As I was saying, this section of the course is specifically tailored to the great authors who once called Oracle University their home. Olivia Saint James attended OU from eighteen fifty three to eighteen fifty nine. The events of her classic novel, Briar's Fair, are closely based on her time as a student here before her tragic death in eighteen fifty nine."

Eloise continued to list the other books and their authors. They sparked my interest. I always loved to learn the history of old places and the different people that inhabited them. My mind began to wander during her presentation of different document formats. APA. MLA. Chicago. Double spaced. Indented. Different ways to write references and make citations. I thought about the banquet and Eric's party. I thought about Zara and Trevon and the other students in my dorm. My classes. How this felt like the longest week of my life and it was only a few hours away from being over.

Eloise excused herself to grab more copies of a handout, leaving students to quietly murmur amongst themselves. My ears burned from a wave of embarrassment when I remembered my not-so-smooth entrance. Of course, no one stood up and pointed at me, laughing. But that didn't stop anxiety from coiling through me, so I kept my eyes on the black and white words on my laptop.

"She swore she saw something," a voice floated to my ears. "She said it was a shadow on her wall. It looked like a person but there was no one there."

"No fucking way," another voice said, frustrated.

"David said he saw something, too."

"Bullshit."

"I don't know, man. He seemed genuinely scared."