Chapter Text
Carolina Church hesitated on the edge of the sidewalk as an endless stream of student-and-parent teams dragged along their motley cargo. They were an army in t-shirts and sweatshirts emblazoned with the name Freemont Lancel University, all making their way in a determined, belabored march from the parking lot toward the dormitories.
She edged her toes over into the grass. Cries of, “Mom, over here!” and, “Dad, can you get the door?” soared toward her over the general chatter. Her cell phone sat heavy in her pocket and Carolina wondered briefly about texting her father. The idea seemed plausible for barely three seconds before it disintegrated in her mind. Instead she shifted her pack, straightened as best she could, and walked into the fray.
*
David Washington had studied for practically his whole life to get here. Freemont Lancel University. Best non-Ivy League science program on the east coast. Boasted such graduates as the famous artificial intelligence researcher, Leonard Church. One of the best universities in the whole country for an aspiring aerospace engineer, according to the Aeronautical Journal. He’d taken all the AP classes in high school, the SAT prep courses, the requisite extracurriculars – he’d barely had time to breathe in between school and Science Club and soccer and community service projects.
And now he was here. He’d made it.
Wash stared at the tall brick walls as his mom drove past the entrance, allowing himself to fall in love with the classic academic architecture all over again. It felt like just days ago that he’d first glimpsed these walls in the university brochure. He barely heard his dad ask him if he’d remembered his student ID, which was also the key to his new room.
“Yeah,” said Wash, feeling the newly-cut plastic rectangle in his pocket. With his picture and his projected graduation year. (He’d made it, he’d made it, he was here.) “Yeah, Dad, it’s here.”
*
“Aaaaaaand here we are, kids!” James York shouted above the Rolling Stones currently blasting from the radio of his rusted yellow pick-up truck. He swerved dramatically through the wide-open gates of Freemont Lancel, causing the security guard to glare at him while his passengers – North next to him, his sister South in the back – scrabbled for a safety hold.
“Jesus, York!” South shouted. He caught a glimpse of her pink-streaked blond hair in the mirror.
“Come on, guys!” York yelled back. “We’re sophomores now! We’re officially cool!” He soared over a speed bump while someone on the sidewalk, maybe a public safety officer, waved his arms and shouted something.
“Just fucking park,” South said. North just shook his head, looking slightly ill.
“Come on!” York said again, but he pulled into the next lot and screeched to a halt in what sort of looked like it might be a parking spot, nearly killing a girl and her parents on the way. But only nearly. They were fine, York reasoned.
North and South hopped out of the truck the minute it stopped, each grumbling (South significantly more so). York followed, all of them heading over to retrieve their various boxes and bags out of the impossible Tower of Stuff that was the bed of York’s truck.
York took a moment to take in the view of the great and fabled Necessitas. The most coveted dorm building on campus, Necessitas was rife with spacious dorm rooms, cushy-common areas, and, allegedly, various ghosts and secret tunnels. He grinned, crossing his arms and ignoring South’s shout to “Get your ass over here and help us!”
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and he was living with his best friend in the best dorm at the best college in the whole world – at least as far as he was concerned.
It was gonna be a good year.
*
Connie Hartford wasn’t having the best day. It should have been literally The Best Day, but it wasn’t exactly working out as she’d imagined. First of all, she’d just nearly been killed by some asshole in a pick-up truck. More importantly, she was about to leave her parents behind for a university and a dorm room and a roommate that were suddenly all adding up to one big question mark in her head. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Freemont Lancel was a good school with a good IT program and a beautiful, woodsy sort of campus that felt a lot like home.
But it wasn’t home, and Connie had never been away from her parents for more than two or three days tops, and now here she was clutching her bed comforter to her chest, and it was all just a little bit overwhelming.
“Sweetie, are you ready?” said her mom.
“I’ve got the microwave, kiddo,” added her dad, heading over from the car with bright eyes.
Those were her parents, never failing to break out the pet names in public. Usually she hated that. Today she felt weirdly fond of the idea.
“Okay,” said Connie hugging the comforter tighter. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
*
Sigmund Maine had brought exactly five boxes with him for his first year of college.
1. Bedding
2. Clothes
3. Video games (and console)
4. Television
5. School supplies.
He was done unpacking his car pretty quick, and unlike just about everybody else in the general vicinity, he didn’t have any parents fussing around. He sort of didn’t know what to do now. Like, what you were supposed to do next. He thought about calling – or, more likely, texting – his mom and dad, but they’d be busy with his older brother’s move-in today. His brother was going back to Harvard for his senior year. It was important. Maine understood.
So he went outside to get away from all the people swarming around with their boxes and suitcases. He figured maybe he’d take a walk, learn the layout of the place. Maybe just go to the football field. He knew where that was already. He remembered it from orientation.
And then he saw her, a small girl with bright red hair in a messy ponytail, dragging a backpack and a bunch of duffle bags that kept slipping from her hands. She looked determined. But in a lonely sort of way.
Maine walked over to her, stepping deliberately into her path. “Do you need help?” he said, looking down at the bags.
*
Carolina looked up, trying not to breathe too heavily – she didn’t want to seem that pathetic, not on her first day. There was some guy looming over her, and had she been feeling any less exhausted, she probably would’ve already been in ultra-defense mode. Instead she just looked at him, from the wide shoulders stretching out his football jersey to his close-cropped hair and finally to his eyes, which were unexpectedly kind.
“No,” she said, dragging one of her bags a little farther forward. “No. I’m good.”
The football player looked back at her, like he was sizing her up, then carefully took one bag from each of her hands before she could protest.
“I’m Maine,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I can help.”
Carolina blinked, anger already starting its slow boil. And then he smiled at her in such a simple, honest way that she almost couldn’t help but feel compelled to return it. (Plus, those bags were really heavy.)
“I’m Carolina,” she said. “Thanks.”
Maine just nodded, and they headed toward the building in relative silence.
*
When Wash and his parents arrived at his new room, it was entirely bare except for the furniture and five cardboard boxes piled on the bed on the left side of the room.
“Guess your roommate’s still unpacking his car,” said his mom, setting down one of Wash’s neatly-labeled plastic bins.
“I guess so,” said Wash. He felt a little nervousness creep up over the edge of his excitement now. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about the whole roommate thing, it just hadn’t seemed that important up till now. Not nearly as important as packing supplies and reading the introductions of all his textbooks…
Wash shook his head just a little and focused on the task at hand – turning this room into home. He would start with the books, of course.
*
York and North helped South move into her place first, tossing down what York judged to be way too many boxes of clothes and saying a brief hello to South’s new roommate. She was some hotshot from Texas with a real mean look in her eyes and a natural talent for making other people feel uncomfortable. York figured she and South would do just fine.
They were finally out and halfway to their own room on the other side of the building when North stopped dead.
“What?” said York, swinging back around with a box of vintage records in his arms.
“We forgot Wyoming,” said North, looking horrorstruck.
“No we did—” York stopped walking as it dawned on him. “Aw, shit. We did.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then bolted back toward the parking lot, York’s records jostling dangerously toward the edge of the box.
When they got to the truck they were greeted by a series of indignant squeals coming from the back seat.
“He’s pissed. Why’s he always so pissed?” York said, unlocking the door.
“We forgot him,” said North, pushing past him to fling the door open. He reached for the sheet-covered cage and lifted it carefully out of the back. The squealing subsided and North lifted the corner of the sheet a little to peer in at the fluffy white guinea pig inside. “Hey, Wyoming,” he said.
“Sorry, man,” York added.
The guinea pig glared.
York shrugged at North, grabbed his records, and they set off again at a far wearier pace.
“You really gotta trim that thing’s fur or something,” said York as they headed back into the building. “It’s starting to look like he has a moustache.”
“Oh, shut up.”
*
Connie swiped her plastic card key through the sensor and stepped into her room, peering cautiously over the boxes in her arms. Her parents were an elevator behind; there hadn’t been enough room in the first one. For a moment she thought she was alone but as the door swung shut behind her, she caught a glimpse of red in the corner of her eye.
There was another girl in her room. A wiry girl with pale green eyes and bright red hair that frayed out of its ponytail in a frizzy mess. She was small but stood very straight, shoulders back, gaze level with Connie’s the moment she walked into the room.
Your roommate, she reminded herself, trying to get used to the idea. It was a perfectly normal thing, having a roommate.
Except for the giant football player next to said roommate. That was not perfectly normal. That probably wasn’t even allowed. What was he even doing here? Was he rooming here too? Was he the girl's brother? Was he her boyfriend? What if he was her boyfriend and he was planning to stay the night, what if they tried to kick Connie out of her own room on her first night, what if –
Connie stopped that train of thought abruptly, looking at the bags that the football player was setting down gently on the bed at the far side of the room. Don’t be stupid, she told herself. He’s just helping her move.
“Hi,” said Connie, a little out of breath.
“Hi,” said the girl. The guy made a rumbling noise that could have passed for a greeting, or maybe just indigestion.
“I’m Connie.” She set her boxes down on the bed that was closest to her.
“Carolina,” said the other girl. “This is Maine,” she added, nodding at the tall guy. He nodded at Connie, then rumbled something to Carolina.
“Okay,” Carolina told him. “Thanks again.” Her voice softened there. Maine just nodded again and headed for the door. Connie was forced to step to the side to let him pass.
“So,” Connie spoke into the awkward silence that followed. “I guess we’re roommates.”
“I guess so,” said Carolina. She didn’t sound particularly happy about it. She didn’t sound particularly anything about it. She opened her mouth to say something else, and that was when Connie’s parents finally barged in with the rest of her stuff.
“Oh! You must be Connie’s new roommate!” said her mom, beaming over an armful of boxes.
“Are you from around here?” added her dad, setting the microwave down. “What’s your name? Are you a freshman too?”
“It’s so nice to meet you!” gushed her mom before Carolina could even begin to respond.
Connie resisted the urge to facepalm. It was very difficult. Instead she shot Carolina a look that, in a perfect world, would clearly convey her awareness of the incredible hopelessness of her parents.
Carolina blinked a little but answered the onslaught calmly, wearing a distantly polite smile. “I’m Carolina. I’m a freshman. Not really from around here, a few hours north of here. It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Mom,” said Connie. “Dad. Please –” But they ignored her, continuing their chatter about how nice it was to be here and what a lovely university and did Carolina like it here and had she been at the tour for admitted students last month and what was she majoring in and, and, and.
Connie sighed heavily. Carolina glanced over, her expression unreadable, and Connie offered a weak smile. There was nothing she could do but wait it out and hope her parents weren’t too embarrassing. She sat down on the bed and started to sort out her boxes.
*
It was late by the time Wash’s new roommate showed up in the doorway. The sun was going down, filling the room with a lazy golden light, and he was just about entirely unpacked. His parents had already left an hour ago, each hugging him tightly enough that he had doubted his ability to continue breathing. They made him promise to call every week and give regular updates via text message – “But not in class, of course,” said his mother sternly. And Wash had promised.
So now his October Sky poster hung on the wall above his bed, his books were all shelved alphabetically and by genre, his clothes were neatly folded in his dresser, and his desk was entirely prepared to face a full semester of rigorous academics. The only thing left was to greet his roommate.
Wash stood as said roommate – who, oh god, appeared to be an enormous football player – walked in. “Hey,” he said, as something a bit more intense than the usual new-person-nervousness kicked in. He had not had good luck with enormous football players in high school. “Um…I’m Wash? David Washington? But really I’m Wash.” He suppressed a wince at his own awkwardness.
His roommate did not seem fazed. “I’m Maine,” he said.
“Nice to meet you?” Wash tried.
Maine nodded and sat on his bed, looking at the boxes there as though he didn’t particularly approve of their presence. Wash thought about asking if that was all Maine had brought but then he thought maybe that was rude, like what if Maine was against ownership of possessions and asking would be offensive to his beliefs or whatever? He couldn’t take that chance.
There was a long silence, and then Maine said, “Do you play video games?”
Wash furrowed his brow. “Yeah, sure.”
Another pause, shorter this time. Then Maine looked at him, and Wash recognized the nervousness in his face as a reflection of his own. “Do you want to play NASCAR?” Maine asked.
“Yeah,” said Wash, though he had never played, “that’d be…that’d be cool.”
“Cool,” agreed Maine, and he began to set up the television.
Maybe enormous football players weren’t all bad.
*
“So this is it,” said York, standing over by the window of their new room. You could see a lot from the third floor. They had a particularly good view from the corner of the building here, plenty of stars visible now and the lights of the main building coming in pale through the little patch of woods next to Necessitas.
“This is it,” North agreed tiredly. He was flat on his back on one of the beds, arms crossed behind his head. His side of the room was almost entirely clean and unpacked. Wyoming’s cage had taken its rightful place next to North’s laptop on the desk, a few books piled on the lid to keep it shut. The guinea pig seemed right at home; he was eating voraciously while glaring at York, which successfully incorporated his two favorite past times.
York’s stuff was strewn all over the place, but it didn’t bother him. He’d dug out his pajamas and toothbrush and stuff, thrown a pillow and some blankets on the bed, and that was really all he needed right now. Tomorrow there’d be time for unpacking. Tonight he wanted…he wanted to let it all wash over him. A new year, a new semester, a clean academic slate and a brand new dorm. He wanted to remember this. He wanted this to last.
“You all right?” North said after a while, sitting up to get a better look at York.
York turned away from the window at last. “Yeah, sure.”
North frowned. “You’re not talking a whole lot.”
He shrugged. “Just tired, man. No need to be my mom or anything.”
North shrugged back. “Just asking.”
York wandered over to sit cross-legged on his bed, back against the wall, looking at the Avengers posters already adorning North’s side. “It’s gonna be a good year,” he announced.
“You think so?” said North absently, settling back against his pillow.
“Sure,” said York. “Sure. It’s gonna be good. I can feel it, man.”
North smiled. “Right. Why don’t you get some rest?”
“I can, though,” said York, tossing a blanket over his knees and letting himself sort of sink down against the mattress. “I really can.”
“I believe you,” said North simply, and York nodded, yawning and flopping abruptly onto his pillow.
“M’tired, man,” he mumbled. “Moving sucks.”
“Goodnight, York,” North replied, glancing over with weary amusement.
“Night North.” He reached out and swiped at the wall until he hit the lights.
*
Carolina drew her blankets up to her neck and pressed her cheek to the pillow, curled up loosely in her new bed. The mattress was hard, the springs digging a little into her back, but she didn’t really mind it. She’d slept on floors before and this was better.
She glanced over at Connie, who kept shifting around in apparent restlessness. She wondered if they were supposed to be talking, about classes or life or whatever it was that new roommates talked about. They hadn’t said much to each other since Connie’s parents had gone. There were a few questions from Connie, but they were mostly dead-ends. Did your parents come today, what do they do, do you have any siblings. (Answers: No, my dad’s a researcher, and no.)
She listened to her roommate trying to get comfortable in the darkness for another minute or two, then said, “Connie?”
The shifting stopped. “Yeah?” came Connie’s hesitant voice.
“Are you…worried at all about tomorrow?” Carolina said, before she could manage to swallow the words down. It was the sort of thing you could only say in the dark.
There was a pause, and then, “A little,” said Connie, sounding small. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” said Carolina. “A little.”
“Yeah.”
They were quiet for a long while after that, strangely aware of each other’s wakefulness. Then Connie said tentatively, “Goodnight?”
“Goodnight,” Carolina replied, glad for the escape from any possible further conversation. She rolled over to face the wall, eyes still open, and stayed awake for a long time after Connie’s breathing had slowed with sleep.
There were still people in the hallway talking and moving things around; Carolina could hear them clearly through the thin walls. There was a sudden shout, something unintelligible followed by a burst of laughter.
Carolina closed her eyes to the darkness, dragged the blankets up over her ears, and tried not to think of anything at all.