ᴀᴅ ᴍᴇʟɪᴏʀᴀ ~ ᴅᴘꜱ (ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴇᴋꜱ)

2 - no vacancy

"What do you mean, 'I'm your roommate?'" I say, my brain lagging behind my sense.

Amy cocks her head. "I feel like it's a pretty straightforward statement," she says, amusement lacing her tone, "I don't know how else to explain it. Uh, we're sharing a room, we're dorm buddies, we're sleeping together— actually, maybe not that last one, on second thought." She chuckles, seemingly expecting me to join. I remain stoic.

"My roommate is supposed to be Beatrice Haddix. Let me see your sheet," I say, less of a request and more of a demand. I scan my eyes around the room before locating the paper on her desk. I snatch it and read:

Amy Drewitt

Year: 12

Age: 17

Rooming Assignment: Maxine Hall, 3E

Notes: See Record.

"This doesn't make any sense." I shake my head. "Why would they room me with a senior?"

I'm speaking out loud, but I'm mainly asking myself.

"You're not a senior?" Amy asks, equally as puzzled. "God, Coleman really wasn't kidding about this punishment thing..."

"Punishment?"

She waves her hand. "Doesn't matter. We're roommates. If you've got a problem, take it up with the floor supervisor. I've got stuff to put away." She turns to her bed, then adds over her shoulder, "Nice meeting you..."

I realize I never gave her my name. "Ivy. Ivy Albrecht."

She nods. "Ivy."

I pause, expecting her to say more, but she doesn't. She busies herself with her fitted sheet, fighting to stretch it diagonally across the mattress pad. I turn and exit the room.

-

Ms. Duvall groans as she sees me storm down the hall. It doesn't take a psychic to tell that we're thinking the same thing:

This is going to be fun.

Ms. Duvall was my floor supervisor the year that Bee and I met. In hindsight— we were awful to her. There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. We pulled pranks, we spread rumors, we stayed out past curfew, etc. Anything we could do to make her job harder, was done. Perhaps it was misguided anger and a desire to take back some freedom we had lost that first year at Constantine, but it's history at this point.

Well, to me at least.

"Ms. Duvall. Always a pleasure," I say, plastering a fake smile onto my face. I've really got to amp up my performance if I expect any help from her.

"Yes, Miss Albrecht?" The words flick off her tongue like the sparks on an impractically short fuse.

"I think there's been a mistake with dorm assignments. You see, I put down Beatrice Haddix as my choice, and she put me as hers, but now there's some random girl in my room. She's a senior, too," I add, hoping to strengthen my argument.

"I can check the records if you want, but I believe Miss Haddix already moved in a few hours ago. She didn't seem surprised by her room assignment."

My heart sinks. "What?"

"I'm certain you heard me, Miss Albrecht. Would you like me to check or not?"

I quickly regain my plastic smile. "Yes, ma'am, if you don't mind."

Ms. Duvall walks past to a desk and starts shuffling through papers, leaving me frozen in place.

She already moved in? To another room? And she didn't tell me?

I'm pulled back to reality by Ms. Duvall's voice, now raised slightly. "It says here she left the 'roommate preference' line blank. I'm not sure what to tell you."

A thousand thoughts race in my head, but my better judgement takes the reins and I say, "Thank you, Ms. Duvall. Have a nice night," before turning my back and dragging my feet towards my room.

-

"No luck?" Amy sneers, not looking up from her book. She's gotten comfortable in the few minutes I was gone, now lounging lazily on her bed.

"Look—" I start to fire back but reconsider. After a moment of contemplation, I sigh and continue. "I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I've had a rough day, and you weren't who I was expecting when I opened the door."

She scoffs. "Clearly."

"If you want me to just leave you alone, let me know. Otherwise, I'm gonna get ready for bed, and we can re-do all this tomorrow." She still isn't looking at me, so I sigh and conclude, "I really do want to be friends. I mean that. And I'm sorry. I mean that too."

She doesn't respond, but I think that's a good sign. Better than her other retorts, at least.

Satisfied by the interaction, I gather my pajamas from my chest of drawers and head to the bathroom. It's a dim, humid communal bathroom with a few stalls and three showers separated by a flimsy curtain. I make a mental note to only shower early in the morning or late at night to avoid the other girls.

I'm halfway through brushing my teeth when I hear the door creak open.

"Ivy?" a familiar voice calls.

I turn my head, toothbrush still in my mouth, to see Amy.

"Yeah? What's up?" My words come out muffled through toothpaste foam.

"It's pretty early for bed." She says it more like a question than a statement.

"I know," I say, pausing to spit, "I don't have much else to do today, though. Most of the first-weekend activities are for the younger girls." I quickly scold myself for talking down to her before adding, "You're a senior, though. You probably already know that." She definitely already knows that.

"I do. There are other things to do on campus, though."

"I dunno. It's pretty-"

"God, you're clueless." Amy pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm inviting you out. Are you coming or no?"

Her bluntness throws me off. "I mean..." I start, but fall silent.

I have to say yes, right? If I say no now, she'll never ask again.

Maybe we'll see Bee while we're out.

"Sure. What the hell, right? Curfew isn't for another hour."

"Great," she grins. "Grab a coat on the way out."

She ducks back out of the doorway and I hear her footsteps leading towards the stairs.

I gather my toiletries and rush back to the room, throwing them on the desk and snatching a zip-up jacket on the way out.

Junior year. New roommate. Spontaneous plans.

... Well, here goes nothing.