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"Us girlies need to stick together. Any bitch that comments on your body is getting a fistful of knuckles the next time I see them. I hope you do the same for me."
I fist bump Rina. "I’ve got you, girl."
Rina isn’t a bad roommate at all. I judged her prematurely when I first laid eyes on her, assuming that because she wore designer brands like the other girls and was perfect, she was a bitch. She’s world’s away from Trace.
I’ve never met Trace in person, but from what I saw on the Saintswood message boards, she’s as nightmarish as they come. Because her father is the Dean of Students, she thinks she runs everything, even though she doesn’t. She has a big head when she hasn’t done anything to deserve it.
I think about my own upbringing and the turns of events that brought me to Saintswood, and can’t help but feel grateful. Unlike many of these students, I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Life was tough when I was a young girl and I had to fight to get my schoolwork done and study most of the time. Instead of devoting myself to parties, shopping, and boys, I was cooped up in the public library, dealing with creeps who shot me weird glances because it was the only place where I could focus. My high school library wasn’t the best space to study, because after school, the administrators decided they could make an extra few bucks hosting day care, and the actual students didn’t have a place to go.
Coffee shops weren’t an option. I didn’t have money to buy fancy coffee most days, so I had to opt for free study spaces. Things are different now thanks to the wonderful scholarship I received at Saintswood, which I still can’t believe I have. I blow out a breath of gratitude for not the first time when I think about the difference in my life now and then. Yes, there are guys stalking me and using me as a cum dumpster, but I’m not wearing rags and scrounging for scraps at the public library. I’m in an elite institution surrounded by future Supreme Court Justices. Senators. C-Level executives.
Rina unpacks a granola bar from her desk. "These are supposed to help me stay fit until the spring season starts."
Rina is here at Saintswood on a track scholarship. This is another thing I didn’t know about her when I first met her, which is why I judged her to be a Trace. Rina’s family can obviously afford the tuition, but as she confided in me, her grandmother is the only one with money and her biological parents didn’t save for her college. Her grandmother promised she’d pay half of Rina’s tuition if Rina managed to pay for the other half. She excelled at track and field in high school, and she’s a boss on the high jump. She showed me footage of one of her meets from senior year, and I was astonished to see my roommate swirling through the air as crowds of people clapped and cheered. Rina is a total badass when it comes to athletics, and that’s probably why she has such a great figure.
I crack a grin. "Better not be like those weight gain bars from Mean Girls."
"The ingredients aren’t in Swedish. I checked."
We share a laugh, then settle onto our beds. It feels good to have a roommate like Rina in my life. For a while, I was worried they’d pair me up with some total nerd who also received a scholarship. In my limited knowledge, I assumed that all the students who received scholarships would wear glasses, have buck teeth, and be into anime. That was me being judgmental, which I shouldn’t do, because that’s such a Trace thing to do. As Rina shows me every day, the classiest girls at Saintswood aren’t bitches like the so-called popular girls. They’re kind. Slow to judgment. Full of patience and understanding.
I tug out my photo album that I brought from home, then crack open the cover. It was a college gift from my father, which he blessed me with before he dropped me off at the dorms. My fingers flip to a picture of my dog, which always makes me tear up. He’s a tiny three-year-old toy poodle that’s a direct descendent of the poodle we had when my mother was still alive. The breeder kept their line going because the poodles were so well behaved, and I must admit, Apricot is a keeper.
"I miss my dog." Apricot’s warm, sweet face stares up at me, his eyes so full of love. My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I blink hard so I don't miss him too much.
Taking him for his last walk was a tearjerker of an experience. I’m not a crier, but seeing him skip across boulevards and sniff flowers as I knew that I wouldn’t see him until winter break was brutal. I’m lucky that I have his picture in this photo album as well as all the selfies I took with him on my phone.
Rina plops down next to me. "You should smuggle him into the dorms. No one would know."
"I highly doubt that."
"This is Saintswood. All you’d need to do is bribe some administrator to look the other way."
"I’d rather not get expelled. Also babe, I’m on a scholarship so I don't have the money to bribe anyone if I wanted to."
"I’ll tell my alcoholic bitch ass mom to send me a couple Gs. That should take care of it."
"You’re too kind."
I tug out my phone to text my father.
Me:Tell Apricot I miss him.
My father doesn’t respond. Typical.
It sucks to say that before my mother passed away, my father was an incredible parent. He took me to the circus, the zoo, and he genuinely gave a shit about being involved in my life. It’s not that he’s a bad parent now because he’s doing the best that he can. But before her death, he was alive.
Part of him died with Mom.
His distance is what allowed my stepbrother to spend more time with me. Dad would sleep in late and Nate would slip into my room, getting too close for comfort. I cringe as Nate’s prying eyes fill my mind, those eyes that lingered on my developing breasts for too long.
What the fuck is it with fully grown men who stare at you like that when you’re still growing into a woman? It’s wrong. Disgusting. I didn’t even know the first thing about boys yet, but my stepbrother thought it was his prerogative to ogle me like the freaks in the library.
Rina takes a bite of her granola bar. "Please tell me you have a spare tampon."
"Of course." I tug one out of my nightside table, then slide it to her.
She hurries to the bathroom, then comes back a few minutes later. "I need like five Percocet and ten boxes of chocolate."
