The First to Fall ⚢

𝐨𝐧𝐞 • 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚

We've been in the same vicinity for less than thirty seconds and I can already feel myself starting to lose my mind. Her voice brings back memories from high school that I so desperately wanted to leave behind me; as soon as I heard her first words, it was like déjà vu. A crappy, unsettling version of déjà vu that made my skin crawl and my lips twitch.

"Don't bother with that," I tell Aspen as she starts to reach for one of the housing transfer request forms. "I already filled one out."

"Did they tell you how long it would take?"

"A month, give or take."

"Jesus Christ," she mutters. I raised my eyebrows in agreement before she continues. "Well, let's get this over with then."

Nothing else is said between us as we wait for the man at the desk to return. Then, when Ryan hands each of us keys to our dorm and mailboxes, he wishes us luck and a great day, though I think the only thing that makes that smile on his face genuine is the fact that he doesn't have to talk to us anymore.

I walk begrudgingly beside Aspen all the way to room 157, where the front door instantly opens to a small, open room with two doors on the back wall and one in the indented corner. I'd been so caught up with essays and letters of recommendations that housing was simply just an afterthought when I applied—hence my lack of knowledge when it came to the whole roommate thing—and I didn't realize we were lucky enough to have a shared common space outside of the separate bedrooms. It's like our own mini-living room.

Our door—I already hate the sound of that—is to the left, marked with a big, bolded 'A' on a piece of paper taped to the front. Beside room A is room B, where two other girls share a room—our suitemates. I still haven't met them, clearly, but I'm sure anyone is better than Aspen Greenwood.

Just as we open the door to reveal the damned room we'll be sharing for the next month, an older man with a scruffy white beard and pale skin hauls in a cart with some boxes. He makes eye contact with Aspen immediately, then smiles as she begs him not to hug her yet, and I instantly recognize him as her father.

Henry, Aspen's dad, was spotted at every volleyball game we played. Every awards ceremony, every science fair, every field trip, he was there. He and Aspen's mother, Riyah—they were always so adamant about us addressing them by their first names rather than Mr. and Mrs. Greenwood—and their other children. I remember the first time I met Maxwell, their youngest. He was just born our freshman year when Aspen and I weren't on nearly as bad terms as we were now. We weren't exactly friends, but she and I were the only two freshmen in the advanced English class that was meant for juniors and seniors, so we'd at least had something to bond over back then. Too bad it didn't last.

"Cara Jasper, is that you?" Henry asks, nudging my shoulder as I dress my bed with my new sheets.

I smile at him warmly, despite the complicated relationship I have with his daughter. "In the flesh."

"You two are roommates?" he asks with a bit of a concerned chuckle, knowing all too well how we feel about each other. I've always loved his kindness and acceptance toward me, even if Aspen doesn't like me. He never fails to make me feel seen and heard, just like his own daughter, and always tries to provide me with a safe space to feel comfortable around him. Every time he sees me, he smiles, and it is so refreshing.

"Some luck, huh?" he teases us. Aspen rolls her eyes and I just shake my head with a smile. "I didn't even know you were going to Barington. Did you have a safe trip?"

"Yeah, I flew in last night and stayed in a hotel."

"Is this all you brought?" He asks, gesturing to the three moving bags on the floor under my bed. They're huge and bright blue and carry everything I needed to bring from home outside of groceries. The best part is that they were able to fit inside whatever Uber I had to take to get here from the hotel.