Damage

Chapter 2

When the cab pulls up I’m still half asleep, the sunlight streaming in through the dusty window as I pull out what I owe the driver from my wallet and make a mental note to never take a cab in New York again. 

I open the door and look around as I drag my luggage from the trunk, the late-morning air still slightly crisp.  I can remember how excited I was when I got my acceptance letter to Columbia but now; it’s replaced by a buzzing sense of nervousness and a lump in my throat.

After orientation I can tell. Columbia University is everything I thought it would be. People rush around the perfectly manicured lawns, dragging suitcases into stately and pristine buildings.  Small groups of people sit on the grass, reading and talking and laughing and I can already see my life falling into place here.

A smile starts to grow on my face, but it’s quickly wiped away when I notice all the other freshmen – just like me – hugging their family goodbye and smiling through tear-streaked faces. But there’s no bittersweet goodbye for me. All I have is a long plane ride alone and a suitcase that I had to pack by myself three nights before.

“What am I supposed to do when you’re not around anymore?”

I force the lump down in my throat and grip tighter on the handle of my suitcase. I’m not supposed to be sad like this, not when I’m about to live through some of the best years of my life. One foot in front of the other. That’s the only way it seems I can get myself to walk into the dormitory that’s ahead of me. 

Before I know it, I’m right in front of the door and my palm is gently closed, poised by the wood and about to knock.  I take a deep breath and clear my head before lightly tapping my knuckles to the door.  

It swiftly opens and I’m faced with a girl slightly taller than me with blonde hair and green eyes, bright with excitement and almost brimming with joy.

“Mia, right?” she asks, holding the door open wider so I can lug my suitcase through.  The space is small, but it’s inviting, a window behind each twin bed and a desk facing it.

 “H-Hi,” I begin, stuttering before closing my eyes tightly for a second and opening them up again. I put on my best smile and try and push all of my previous thoughts aside. This is the place for me to start fresh, start new.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, propping my luggage against the wall and reaching behind my ear to put a stray strand of hair back in place.

 “I’m Emily, but you can call me Em.” She returns back to setting her computer on her bed and opens up the closet. I can hear the laughing and light chatter of other new students in the dorms around us and begin to unzip my suitcase, placing my folded shirts and jeans on top of the blue blanket. 

“Where are you from?” she asks, sitting cross-legged on her bed and untangling her headphones. 

“Georgia,” I say, running my hands through my hair and glancing at my phone that hasn’t rung once since I left home. I take off my shoes, expecting to hear a 'You don’t sound like you’re from Georgia' but she simply hums in response, standing up again and peering out the door quickly.

“Well, welcome to New York.” She gestures around, and I look briefly outside - the view is nice, the sky dimming over the campus and all of Upper Manhattan. 

“Are you from here?” I ask.

“Yeah, not far from home at all,” she notes and somehow, it causes my chest to ache. But I quickly push it away, smiling back at her when she speaks again. “I’ve known a few of the people here my whole life. Most people here are cool but the rest are - ”

 “Rich, over-privileged, upper class brats,” a boy with dark hair and a flannel shirt interrupts, his tone dry and humorous. He knocks and asks to come in after already walking inside. He sits down on the armrest of the chair at Emily’s desk and she rolls her eyes.

 “What he means to say is that many of the sons and daughters of…well-off families go here.” I’m on full scholarship, but Columbia is an Ivy League School, so it makes sense that a lot of students would have money running in their veins.

 “I’m Michael,” the boy introduces himself, his voice raspy and deep as he locks eyes with mine. 

 “Mia.”

“Pretty name.”

I feel my cheeks heat up and he laughs lowly, standing up and rolling the sleeves of his plaid shirt up to his elbows before leaning against the wall.

 “Look, there’s a party later tonight that one of said ‘rich, over-privileged, upper class brats’ is throwing. Do you want to come?” Emily asks, outlining her green eyes with eyeliner and blinking a few times.

I’ve never been one to go to many parties, but college is the place to try new things and have new experiences, right? And despite my apprehensions and the nervous fluttering in my stomach, I know that if I want a fresh start, I’ll need to begin somewhere.

“Sure.”

***

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