Dorm Room 210 [Rewrite]

Chapter 2

"Oh, no." A sob escapes me. "No, no, no, no. This cannot be happening."

It's happening. It's happening. You're screwed. You're so screwed...

I run my fingers through my hair, taking deeper breaths to slow my heart down. I will not let myself breakdown here. 

The receptionist eyes my from her desk. Yes, of course. I can just ask her. I can talk to her.

Except the moment I stand in front of her, the words I built up in my head die in my throat.

A sigh escapes her painted thin, red lips. "Yes?"

"I missed the Guide... thing."

Her fingers type in rapid time without missing a beat.

"Your name and course. I'll find your dorm in no time."

"Lillian Camella." The smile feels fake on my face, but the relief sinks in. "I'm doing Bachelor of Fashion and Design."

Helen taps on the keyboard and clicks on her mouse a few times, and the numbness fades from my body. The square glasses perching on the end of her nose bounces back light and blurry words of information. She murmurs something inaudible and clicks a few more times.

"Is there something wrong?"

Helen does little to reassure me as she continues typing, expanding the silence between us. I take my phone from my jean pocket and squeeze.

The phone dials next to Helen and, without turning away from the brightness of her screen, reaches to answer.

"Just wait a minute, love. I won't be long," she says to me before speaking through the phone.

I move to the closest linen couch and my body sinks into its support. Way better than the tiles. With my stuff before me and my phone on my lap I'm calm. My phone holds solace in times of stress. I don't know when I started relying on it, but I haven't stopped. Aunt Jennifer noticed this and suggested if I needed something, a stress ball would be more suitable. But the idea of carrying a stress ball wherever I went frightened me – every stranger who saw me with it could conclude that something wasn't right, and I wanted to remain invisible as much as possible.

I could pass time browsing on my phone, but that's what put me in this position. Instead, I look at the black-framed photographs of past and present Head campus leaders surrounding the walls of the reception, their names printed in pretty cursive gold. The present leader, a photogenic man with cold blue eyes, holds my attention across the room. With shiny black hair and flawless airbrushed skin, he's on the borderline of looking younger than he should appear. I can't read his name properly behind the ray of sunlight and I don't want to get up to find out.

Warm air from outside disturbs the coolness of the air-con, then the seat beside me dips.

It's the short girl who caught me staring.

"Hey," she says. "Did you miss the Guides as well?"

She tugs her dark brown hair behind her ears revealing diamond earrings.

"Um, yeah." I play with the edges of my phone. "I was in... I was distracted."

"I know what you mean, I got distracted as well," she says. "There were too many ice-creams to choose, and Seven-Eleven's fridges are amazing for this heat. They offered free jelly cups, and I wanted three because my friends and I love jelly. But the store manager was like, 'Take one or leave' so I said, 'Your jellies are shit anyway'. Honestly, I was just hot and bothered."

"Oh, cool."

She goes through her pink leather tote bag with Prestwick's diary poking out and sighs, and I assume the conversation is over. "And, of course, he takes my gum." She groans.