United

Dreams and Shadows

I was walking down the dormitory hall, after having gone to the nursing and not finding Colleen there. Stella had to catch up on the things we did today so she went to her room, leaving me all by myself. In the hallways was deathly silence, the whole place was, not even the dull hum of the lamps hanging from the white ceilings could be heard.

“Seems like parties had began already.” I said to myself. That could be the only reason why it was these calm. Apparently.

Speaking of which, the closed doors themselves were a sight to be seen. If the students at The Royal Conservatoire put so much work on their dress code violations, they definitely not fell short when it came to personalizing their spaces. I already had walked by one door frame with a beaded curtain, and another with a motion-detecting welcome mat that encouraged her to “move the hell on” when she passed it.

I stopped in front of the only blank door in the building. Room 63. Home bitter home. I fumbled for my key in the front pocket of my backpack and opened the door.

I entered the room and when I closed the door, I saw the glimpse of myself caught in the full-length mirror behind the door.

I quickly looked away, trying to escape from the reflection of my shattered self. My face looking pinched and tired. My brown eyes flecked with stress. My hair like a tangle of knots. The sweater Stella brought me fit me like a burlap sack. I was shivering.

I wanted to unpack, so I could turn the plain room 63 into mine own place, where I could go when I needed to escape and feel okay, and where the music room and library were closed too. But I only got as far as unzipping my bag before I collapsed on the bare bed in defeat. I’ve never felt this way here, for once in all the years that I’ve been here, I felt so far away from home. I missed my parents, who’d stuck a Post-it on the T-shirt at the top of my bag, we love you! Windsors never crash! I missed my bedroom. I missed everything.

An unexpected knock on my door pulled me away from my thoughts and made me shoot up from the bed. How would anyone know to find me here? Colleen wouldn’t knock in my bedroom, she’d just storm in, and Stella would have texted me first, besides she’s busy. I tiptoed to the door and opened. I stuck my head to find a very empty hallway. I hadn’t even heard footsteps outside, and there was no sign of anyone having just knocked. I didn’t freak out because I’m used to this type of things happen to me when the sun goes down.

I was about to closed the door when I saw a paper airplane pinned with a brass tack to the center of the corkboard next to my door. I smiled to see my name written in black marker along the wing, but when I unfolded the note, all that was written inside was a black arrow pointing straight down the hall. Colleen had invited me over tonight, but that was before the incident with Belinda in the cafeteria. Looking down the empty hallway, I wondered about following the cryptic arrow. Then I glanced back at my giant duffel bag, my pity party waiting to be unpacked.

“A little party never killed nobody.” I said to myself. I pulled my door shut, put my room key in my pocket, and started walking. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, I’m not the party girl type but what the hell! I had a shitty day, it’s time to make it better.

I stopped in front of a door on the other side of the hall to check out an oversized poster of Mick Jagger. God how I love that man. He’s amazing, such a living legend. I leaned forward to read the name on the corkboard and realized that I was standing in front of Seth Devlin’s room. Immediately, a little part of my brain that started calculating the odds that Seth might behanging out with Harry, with only a thin door separating them from me.

Whatever! I’d come here to see Colleen, whose room, turned out to be directly across the hall from Seth. Really?

In front of Colleen’s room, I felt a little stab of tenderness. The entire door was covered with bumper stickers, some printed, others obviously homemade. There were so many that they overlapped, each slogan half covering and often contradicting the one before it. I laughed under my breath as I imagined Colleen collecting the bumper stickers indiscriminately (MEAN PEOPLE RULE ... MY DAUGHTER IS AN F STUDENT AT THE ROYAL CONSERVATOIRE ... VOTE NO ON PROP 666). Seeing all this, I know behind that tough girl look, a cute girl lies underneath.