Page 2 of Pack Giroux

Giving me another sweet smile, she says, "Of course, dear. If you have any questions at all, don't be afraid to reach out. Go back down the hall to student services so that you can get your student ID. That way you'll be able to catch dinner tonight at the dining hall."

I return her smile at the thought of having a hot meal. "Thank you."

She gives me a quick dip of her chin, and I turn to go back the way I came. The decision wars within me for a second. If I go get my ID right now, they're going to take my picture with me looking like a hot mess. However, if I wait and don't make it back before they close, I could miss being able to eat on campus tonight. I've got money, but I don't want to waste it on food when I can get that for free.

My stomach rumbles, making the decision for me. Ten minutes and a not awful but not good picture of me later, I'm walking back out into the sunshine. With all of my newly acquired items tucked underneath my arm, I make my way across campus to where I know the dorms are for the girls. From my understanding during the virtual tours, all of the sports teams have their own floor of the dorms. Volleyball has the entire third floor to ourselves for the team. In the normal rooms, two people share a space with separate sides of matching furniture and have to use the communal bathroom, living room, and kitchen area of the floor. On ours, we are matched four to a room, each room having its own shower and small kitchenette. Communal living isn't anything new to me, but I've known the people that I lived with all of my life. This whole thing is a new experience to say the least.

Once I make it to my building, I read the instructions on the keypad before opening the letter-sized clasp envelope andpeeking inside to grab the navy-blue keycard hanging from a plum-colored spiral bracelet. There's a silver wolverine on the side that makes me smile a little. Pressing it against the keypad like the instructions say to do, I wait until it beeps and flashes green before reaching for the door to pull it open.

A blast of air hits me as soon as I walk inside, making me shiver as it cools the sweat beaded on my skin. I take a deep breath of the cool, office-building-smelling air, feeling calmer than I have in three days. Finding my way over to the elevator, I reach out to press the button, but stop myself. Training and practice begins next week. There's no harm in conditioning now, even if it is by taking three flights of stairs instead of using the elevator.

I'm slightly regretting my decision by the time I make it up to my floor, only because exhaustion from not having slept or eaten well for days is finally catching up to me. I walk the last flight, dragging by the time I make it to my door. Fishing back through the envelope, I find a lonely key that I use to unlock the door and swing it open. Before stepping foot inside, I immediately hook the key onto my bracelet so that I don't lose it.

When I do make it inside, I'm surprised to find that the virtual tour did the room no justice. It's a lot bigger than I thought it'd be. There are two open doors on each side of the room. As soon as I walk in, to the right there is our small kitchen with its fridge, microwave and half stove. A bar divides it from the living room with four stools pushed underneath. The living room isn't huge, but it's big enough for a long sofa and two chairs with a coffee table between them and the wall. A cubed bookshelf sits underneath a good-sized TV on the wall.

From the empty rooms, I think it's safe to say that I'm the first one to get here. Were we here at the same time, I'd be considerate and let them all have their choice of the rooms first. Since I'm the first, I take my pick, the one closest to the door inthe front corner.

All of the furniture appears to be the same in all the rooms. A bare, twin-sized bed. A single nightstand. And a work desk with a chair. As I walk in, I notice a half-sized sliding door that opens into a small, empty closet and another regular-sized door that leads into a tiny bathroom. It's only got room for a stand-up shower, toilet, and small sink, and it leads into one of the other bedrooms, but I'm not complaining. I only have to share a bathroom with one other person instead of three.

Setting my bag down on my naked mattress, I'm reminded that I need to go shopping at some point today. I lay the mail and packet from registration down beside it. Sifting through the mail, I pick it up piece by piece to inspect it. The first envelope is my class schedule with all of the books that I'll need. I'm sure the info is all available online, but we'd specifically requested paper copies of everything since my access to the internet was limited at the compound. The second envelope is my social security card. The third is smaller and has a yellowish-tinted paper inside which has my name and birth place on it. My birth certificate. One small proof that I was born at a real hospital back before my mother and her pack switched religions and joined the cult. They don't call themselves that, but it's the only way I'll ever see them after learning that such things existed. The last thing I open is from my new bank. I gently pull the shiny silver card off the glue sticking to the paper. According to my financial aid advisor, who worked through my coach, I accepted all of the grants and loans they offered me this semester. They'd both said that I needed to accept every dime of financial aid at least this first semester since I'm literally starting from scratch with everything. Seeing it all laying out on the mattress, I can't begin to imagine how much time and work went into getting all of this taken care of for me. All while avoiding getting caught. I could live a thousand lives and not be gratefulenough.

A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I swipe it away quickly. I'm not going to squander her gift by feeling sorry for us. Leaving the mail where it lays, I dig through my bag until I come across the only article of clothing I packed. My white dress. I threw it in last minute as a backup just in case. I had to borrow, or steal depending on how you look at it, the clothes that I'm wearing. The only clothing I owned at the compound was dresses. We aren't allowed to wear anything else. All of them are a drab, grey color. We own a single white one, and it's strictly for church and special occasions.

Pulling it out, I consider myself lucky for following my instincts. It's about to come in handy. Reaching back into the bag, I take out the bottle of hand soap that I bought yesterday at the convenience store the bus stopped at. The bathroom didn't have any, and I couldn't stand the thought of not cleaning my hands. Especially since I already felt so grimy and dirty from not having a shower.

Taking them both into the bathroom, I drape the dress over the towel rack and set the soap in the shower before stripping down. As much as I really don't want to put the dirty clothes back on, I'd rather wear them than the dress, so I fold them neatly and set them on the sink. I save my bra and panties to be washed. I'm definitely not putting either of those on again until they're clean. I start the water in the shower and wait until it's warm to step in. The feel of it washing away all of the dirt and grime from, not just the past few days, but my entire life almost brings me to tears again. Popping the lid on the hand soap, I dump a ton in my hand and lather it into my long hair. It definitely doesn't smell as good as the goat milk shampoo on the compound, but it's going to do in a pinch. I'm just going to throw it back up in a bun when I get out anyway until I can get some actual shampoo.

I let it sit while I lather my body with my hand, reminding myself that I'll need some washcloths for bathing for next time, too. Rinsing all the soap off my body and out of my hair, I enjoy the warm water for another minute or two before turning it off. We'd only been able to take a two-minute shower at the compound. If we'd taken longer than that and gotten caught, we were punished. One of the other girls my age, Lily, had thought it was worth it and taken as long as she wanted. That wasn't her only infraction, either. She did a lot of things against the rules. Her punishments upped in severity each time until we no longer saw her. I'm not sure where she went, but it's been months since I saw her last.

When I step out, I use the white dress as a towel to dry my body and my hair off as much as possible. I finger comb my hair as best I can before pulling it back up in a bun on top of my head. I then pull the borrowed pants and shirt on, hating the way they make me feel dirty again. Hanging the dress up to dry on the towel rack, I go back into my room and slip my shoes on.

I debate for a few minutes on whether I should take my bag or not. I don't want to leave it here just in case someone comes in and decides to rummage through it. At the compound, there was no such thing as privacy. I brought next to nothing with me, so I slip all of my mail and registry information into my bag with the one notebook already in there. My one secret at the compound that no one ever knew about. The only thing I keep out, other than my room key, is the silver card and the paper it came attached to. It says that there's a number I have to call to activate it to have access to the money on it.

Clenching it in my hand, I leave the rooms, locking the main door behind me. I take the stairs back down to the bottom floor where I saw a person sitting behind a window.

They're still sitting there watching their phone when I tap lightly on the window. The girl with bright-purple hair lifts hergaze to me and smiles as she slides the window open. "Hi there, can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could use your phone," I tell her.

She looks down at the phone in her hand before realization dawns on her face and she giggles softly. Setting out the bigger phone from the desk on the little counter on my side of the window, she says, "Sure, go ahead. You can even make a long distance call if you need to."

"Thank you," I say. Picking up the handle and waiting on a dial tone, I type in the numbers on the paper and then go through a series of prompts asking for all sorts of information. When it asks for the last four of my social security number, I panic for a moment before I remember I have that information now. Whipping my bag around, I'm in the process of taking it out when the machine on the other end of the line asks if I need more time, so I press the number that says I do. Once I've got it, I memorize the last four without taking it completely out of my bag and enter it. The lady's voice on the other end says thank you and tells me my balance on my card. I almost drop the phone and my bag when she tells me that there's over five thousand dollars. I've never even had one dollar, let alone five thousand.

I'm still semi speechless when I set the phone back down and look back to the girl trying her best not to watch me. "Thanks again."

"Sure thing," she replies with another smile, taking the phone back to her side. "I'm April by the way, one of the resident assistants for this dorm. I'm here typically on the weekends and during breaks, because I'm the only one who doesn't go home. So, if you ever need anything just stop by and ask, okay?"

I nod with a quick smile.

"Do you want my number?" she asks. "That way you can text or call if you need anything and I'm not here."

I don't want her to think I'm weird, but I also don't wanther to think I'm rude. So, I decide to be honest, "I don't have a phone."

"Oh," she says in surprise. "I thought maybe yours had just died or something. That's cool, though. We get that here a lot, though. Either too cool to have one or the parentals were too strict to allow it. If you get one, don't be afraid to stop by and get my number. I've been here for three years now, so I know a lot of the ins and outs."

Her personality is as bright as her hair, and I like it. She's been more open with me in one conversation than anyone on the compound my entire life.

“That’d be great,” I reply honestly. “I’m Marnie.”

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