"I can't remember what happened that night. I'm not talking slippery details or fuzzy-edged visions; I mean a complete and utter blackout. Like I wasn't even there. Except... I know I was."
Since the death of her boyfriend six months ago, Morgan Cai...
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"Welcome to Marshall Hall! Do you need any help with your boxes?"
I can only see half the face of the girl in front of me, my view obscured by the teetering pile of textbooks stacked on top of the box I'm carrying, but it's enough. The ear-to-ear smile and overbearing enthusiasm—without even looking down to notice her lime-green T-shirt and badge, I know straight away what I'm dealing with.
Two trips up to third floor, and I've already run into about twelve of them. All-too enthusiastic 'student ambassadors', smiles kept wide by the promise of $14 an hour: there to reassure nervous freshmen and help carry boxes and, apparently, get in my way as much as possible.
"I'm good," I tell the girl. "But thanks."
As I shift the stack of books in my arms, her badge comes into view. It reads Hailey, although she's decorated it with so many glittery, smiley-face stickers that the name is barely visible. She doesn't seem to think this is excessive.
"No worries!" Hailey beams. "Welcome to the dorm! By the way, if you need help finding your way around, there are campus walking tours leaving from the front entrance every hour, on the hour. Then, the welcome party starts in the downstairs lounge at four. Everyone's welcome!"
I'm shaking my head before she's even finished her sentence. "Oh, no," I say. "This isn't my first year."
But Hailey isn't fazed. "That's okay. You can still come along if you want! I think there are a few other upperclassmen in the building, so it might be a good chance to meet them."
"I'll think about it," I say, with a weak smile, even though I have no intention of doing so.
Finally, she steps aside. "Well, let me know if you have any other questions, okay? Have a nice day!"
I breathe a sigh of relief as I move past, making my way down the rest of the hallway. It's the last door on the left that I'm heading for; although with no free hands, I have to shimmy the handle down with my butt and push backward through the door. For a moment, I think about how Hailey's helping hand would've actually come in useful right now—but then I'm inside, with the door clicking shut behind me, well and truly alone in an empty shell.
It hadn't been my intention to spend a second year living in a campus dorm. Like most people at Davidson, I'd expected to move into an apartment with friends once freshman year was over. Hanna and I had even started apartment hunting in the spring with a couple of girls from our floor. But then things changed. Josh died, and I disappeared from campus before the papers were signed. With no set date for my return, they had no choice but to go ahead without me.
Leaving me with no choice but to apply for on-campus housing, and simply hope for luck of the draw.
In this new bedroom, there are two beds. A suitcase and a couple of boxes sit unopened on one of them—the first bits of luggage my parents have carried upstairs, still to be added to when they get the rest from the car—but the other is just a bare mattress. The best bit of news I've heard all day is that it'll stay that way. By some stroke of a miracle, I haven't been assigned a roommate.
