One step forward, two steps back

Meeting Scarlet

A girl with short electric blue hair walks into the room. She's wearing purple lipstick and heavily winged eyeliner, and she has countless piercings in every place imaginable. She shrieks when she sees me.

"Oh! You scared the living day lights out of me!" I'm surprised to hear she has a heavy Yorkshire accent.

"Sorry! I was late and didn't want to interrupt the welcoming assembly. I'm a first year too. Melanie," I say, with a friendly smile.

"Oh right. Hi. I'm Scarlet," she replies with a smile. "So, you've already started decorating I see?"

"Yeah. I hope you don't mind the bed by the window?"

"No, it's perfect! So what are you studying?"

"Medicine. What about you?"

"Music Technology."

"Cool! So what career would you like to do?"

"Not sure yet. Maybe a radio DJ. All the music on the radio is complete crap. We need good music. What do you want to do?"

"I have no clue. I just need to get a degree in general medicine and I'm happy!"

Scarlet clearly decides that the conversation is over as she goes back to the door to bring all her boxes and bags into the room. She throws everything onto her bed and starts decorating by sticking up posters. Lots of posters. There is hardly any space on her half of the wall when she's finished. They're all for rock bands, indie bands, books, indie/arty movies, most things I've never heard of. I notice that there's a poster with her on it and what looks like her band. The poster is titled 'Phoenix'. She notices me staring at it curiously.

"Oh, that's my band, Phoenix! We've just finished our tour around the British Isles. I'm lead guitarist and vocals."

She returns to rummaging through her boxes and covers up what is left of bare beige wall with Polaroids. They seem to be taken during her band practices and gigs, although there are some of Scarlet with her friends and family on holidays as well.
Scarlet changes her bed sheets from old but clean white to crisp hot pink. She unpacks all her clothes (band tees, ripped jeans, avant garde vintage pieces, fishnet tights and leather garments) and takes out a giant bag full of makeup. She spills all of it out onto her desk and hangs a mirror above it.

"Don't you need space to work?" I ask her.

"What? Oh, not really. For music technology, we mainly just use our laptops, which I can use in bed. The library's there if I need it, anyway. This," she waves her arms dramatically at the makeup, "is much more important."

Scarlet takes her guitar out of it's sticker-plastered case and strums it gently. It's electric and a shade of blue that matches her hair. She props it up on a stand in the corner and sits down at her desk - now a dressing table - and fixes up her lipstick.

"You hungry? We should get lunch," she says to me matter-of-factly, and she walks out the door, and I follow.

Edited by: TheStuffedCrust