Page 1 of Beyond the Lines
act 1
one
LEA
Pop music assaultsmy eardrums with increasing intensity as I drag my suitcase down the corridor of Hughes Hall. And, while I’m as big a Taylor Swift fan as anyone, ‘Blank Space’ blaring at a volume that would make most stadiums envious is not how I thought I’d start my college experience.
My brother, Mike, is only a step behind me, but I can barely hear him as he shouts, “What fresh hell is this?”
I turn to face him and flash an impish grin. “Hey, someone on the floor is a Swiftie, deal with it.”
He gestures with his chin at the door from which the music is spewing. “Looks like your roommate is, Andy…”
“Great!” I smile, realizing we’ve reached my room. I reach into my pocket, grab my key, and?—
“Wait!” He screams, freezing me cold as he grabs my shoulder. “What if the music is covering for something?”
I exhale slowly as I turn to face him. “And whatexactlywould it be disguising, genius?”
“Meth lab…” He shrugs. “Extreme make out session…”
“I’d prefer the meth lab,” I say. “Come on.”
“Maybe I’ll wait out here…” he says.
“Comeon,Mike,” I say. “You’re meant to be showing me around. If Mom?—”
“Fine!”
With an innocent smile, I unlock the door, steeling myself for whatever awaits on the other side. The door swings open to reveal a whirlwind of motion—my new roommate dancing like she’s auditioning for a music video, using her phone as a microphone.
“Cherry lips, crystal skies, I could show you incredible things. Stolen kisses, pretty lies, you’re the King, baby, I’m your Queen…”
Mike and I stand there for what feels like an eternity, watching her flail around the room like a tornado. Her eyes are closed as she sings, but somehow she avoids knocking anything over or stubbing her toe on the furniture. It’s as impressive as it is scary.
I clear my throat loudly. “Uh, hi!”
She freezes mid-hip thrust, and her eyes shoot open. Then her eyes widen, almost comically, and she launches herself at me like a human missile.
“Oh my God, you’re here! You’re finally here!” She runs at me and wraps me in a hug that threatens to crack my ribs. “I’ve been waiting all day! I got here this morning, and I was like, when is she coming?Isshe coming? Maybe she changed her mind and decided to transfer to another school, and I’ll be all alone, and?—”
“Can’t. Breathe,” I wheeze.
“Oh! Sorry!” She releases me, bouncing back.
“It’s OK,” I say, resisting the urge to take a step back from this human ball of energy.
“Anyway, I’m so excited!” She goes on. “I’m Amélie. Buteveryone calls me Em. Well, except my Mom, when she’s mad, then it’s ‘Amélie Charlotte Dubois’ inthattone that means I’m inheapsof shit, you know?”
Mike clears his throat behind me.
“Oh!” I gesture to him. “This is my brother, Mike.”
“Hi, Mike!” Em gives a little wave. “You’re on the hockey team, right? I totally recognized you from the social media clips!”
I raise an eyebrow at Mike, who’s trying not to preen.
Hockey players and their egos, Iswear.
