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"Oh shit!"
The exclamation slips out, and I notice Pia's startled jump beside me. I glance at her, quickly adding, "Sorry."
Tears start to flood my eyes before I can do anything about it, and Pia puts a reassuring hand on my arm:
"It'll be okay."
I nod, even though I'm not convinced at all.
"We should hurry," my companion adds. "We're almost there."
The Gothic collegiatestyle of our dormitory is as classic as they come. In my opinion, the tall stone facades topped with battlements would be more at home on the ramparts of a medieval castle than at a university. Tall, needle-like spires dominate rooftops that seem to want to pierce the heavens, and I find myself imagining the view from up there...
My architectural musings come to an abrupt halt when Pia and I enter the building where a group of students have already gathered in the immense hall. The ambient chatter is amplified by the vaulted stone ceiling looming above us.
I notice I'm not the only one with luggage: some students even have cardboard boxes beside them.
My attention drifts to Pia. The young woman is biting her lip, and I notice she's nervously clutching her large bag against her body.
"Where's your luggage?" I ask, trying to distract her.
My companion's light blue gaze shifts to me, and I sense she relaxes a bit when she answers, "I arrived last night and dropped everything off in my room..."
Her response is interrupted by the appearance of a young man at the top of the imposing staircase leading to the upper floors. You'd almost think we were in a wizarding academy... I banish this incongruous thought to focus on the newcomer addressing the assembly. "Good morning, everyone! I know you're eager to begin this new academic year at OMU, but first I'd like to explain the rules of ourcollege. Before anything else, I believe it's appropriate to introduce myself: I'm Thomas Young."
A few laughs rise from the crowd, and our host smiles in response. "Yes, a Thomas living atThomas Edison College—you can't make this stuff up. In any case, I'm your resident advisor. Anything related to housing and the practical details of lifehere at TEC concerns me directly. However, I'm not your doorman, so don't bother asking me to receive your packages."
As he outlines the rules in effect at our dorm, I study him with curiosity. Tall, well-built, with a square jaw and an honest smile, he inspires confidence. Yes, I'd feel completely reassured asking him for help if I needed it.
As the minutes pass, I feel my tension draining away. I've dreamed so much about studying here that I've put tremendous pressure on myself. You might think I was relieved when I received that famous acceptance letter, but that wasn't the case.
The day I found out I was admitted was several months ago now, but I remember it like it was yesterday... I was coming home from high school in the crushing heat typical of southern Alabama when I saw the thick envelope sitting on the entry table, right next to where my family dropped our outdoor shoes to keep the mud out.
A shiver of joy runs through me at the memory of that momentous occasion, but the reminiscences of my past are swept away by Pia telling me, "I can't wait to start classes. I chose..."
She falls silent when our advisor's gaze sweeps across the crowd in our direction. I'm also impatient to start the semester, even if I can't help feeling a bit anxious. What if I'm not good enough? I studied at a good high school, but then again, how does it compare to other schools across the country? What if my excellent in Alabama is just average at OMU?
Overwhelmed by the extent of my doubts, the rest of Thomas's explanations are lost on me. I might regret not listening later, but there's nothing I can do to make up for my distraction now.
When he finishes, students begin to disperse throughout the building. Some climb the massive staircase while othersdisappear down the numerous hallways branching off from the main hall.
I feel lost again in the vastness of the place.
"Which floor are you on?" Pia asks.
Her light blue gaze is fixed on me. She has the appearance of a delicate, fragile doll, yet a kind of strength emanates from her.
I recall the details provided in the emails I received and answer, "The second floor."
"Me too!"
Pia unlocks her phone and types quickly before showing me a message. I read the information several times before my brain finally manages to decode it.
"We're on the same floor!" I exclaim.
My new dormmate, as it turns out, takes me by the arm and says confidentially, "How lucky! I'll admit I was a bit worried about ending up with strangers... I've never lived anywhere but with my parents, so this is all new to me."
I grab the handle of my suitcase, and we head toward the stairs as Pia continues talking, "I've never even been to a summer camp..."
