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3. There Will NOT Be An Event At 8pm In The Fourth Year Lounge

My spine creaked under the load of a dozen new textbooks, and sweat dripped down my back under the heat of my blasted hoodie.

I'd found my backpack. I'd had to wait, awkward as always, outside the full lecture hall until the class concluded and I could duck in to look under the seats. Remarkably, no one had wanted to steal my pink-lined "Hello Kitty" backpack. There were a few dusty footprints on top of Kitty's face, but nothing seemed to be missing from the inside.

I swung it safely over my shoulders, and marched toward the busiest place on campus: the bookstore. I may have missed class, but if I looked over the textbooks tonight I figured that would make up for it.

When I finally slogged up to the cash register, after waiting in a line that wound around the bookstore like a cobra, the cashier smiled at me with pointed teeth and scanned my five crisp-covered textbooks.

"That'll be $1218.75," she said.

That'll be what? my mind shouted.

My traitorous body simply handed over my card.

I frantically did some quick mental math. I supposed it added up. Each book was worth $200 or $300. But seriously! How would I afford to eat for the next eight months?

"Here's your receipt."

"Thank you," I choked.

I could feel my bank account wailing like a child whose toys had just been ripped away.

Now, wheezing like an old man, I carried my hoard up the last steps to my room.

A girl locking her door across the hall paused to stare at me in judgment.

"You know there's an elevator?" she drawled.

I stopped.

"Oh."

The girl rolled her eyes and strode down the hall ahead of me, balancing on black heels so shiny I could see my reflection in them.

I braced my stack of textbooks against the wall as I dug in my pockets to find my room key. Spilling books and keys, I tumbled into my dorm.

And, of course, my new roommates were there to witness my grand entrance.

"Hi," I said weakly.

Together, we all stared at the books strewn across the floor.

A short redhead with curly locks as wild as a lion's mane burst into laughter.

I laughed in relief and waved sardonically.

"I'm Sarah," I stated by way of explanation.

The redhead took a moment to compose herself.

"Sorry," she wheezed. "I'm Rachel." She bent down to help me gather my things.

The other girl, an East Indian girl the size of a pixie, looked either petrified or disgusted. It was hard to tell.

"Devanshi," she said.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"It's my name."

I think I insulted her.

"I... Oh. OK. Nice to meet you," I replied. I didn't try to repeat her name for fear of butchering it.

She smiled coldly, retreated to her room and closed the door. Unfortunately she'd already removed the yellow sticky note that had been there to label it. My heart dropped. I would have to ask for her name again at some point.