Page 12 of The Casualty of Us
“Yeah, that’d be great.” I agree, loving the idea of avoiding the crowd for a while longer. “Just grab me whatever looks good.”
“Perfect.” She smiles, heading for the door. “Later, Ophelia.”
“Later!” I call out, waiting for the door to close before sighing happily. Not overly energetic. Not nosy. I really couldn’t have asked for more.
I push up out of the chair, snagging my backpack off the floor before heading to my room to make good on my word to unpack at least, noticing for the first time as I come to the door that the knobs in my dorm are different from the ones in Ollie’s.
Crystal instead of bronze. A nice touch.
It has me running my fingers over it once before pushing the door open and immediately falling in love with the rich color of the room that’s completely different from the boys’. The dark-green walls and wood wainscotting pair perfectly with a cream-colored sleigh bed that sits facing me. Its tufted headboard rests against the back wall, and silvery bedding covers it already, with boxes from home piled along the foot of it. A small nightstand rests on its right with a pretty silver lamp on it, and the same shelves and desk setup that Ollie has are built into the wall opposite my bed. The large window that runs the length of the outside wall has even darker green drapes hanging from it, showing off a view that’s nothing but forest.
It gives the entire room a cozy feel.
As if we’re tucked away in a magical treehouse or something.
I turn away from the window before getting too lost and spy the tablet lying on the bed. Sutton’s words from beforerattle around in my head, making me drop my backpack to the floor. Immediately heading over to pick up the white tablet and investigate it further, I click the small button on the side to see the Pinecrest logo lighting up the screen and play around with it until I find my class schedule. Seeing that I have French, art history, and the literature seminar I signed up for on Mondays and Wednesdays, while Tuesdays and Thursdays are reserved for American history and my least favorite subjects of math and science.
Fridays being the oddball day of me only having debate, which has been my choice in elective for a while now.
And I’m definitely needing the outlet right now too.
I set the tablet back down and move on to try the door that’s tucked into the wall facing the window, pulling it open to find a nice but modest-looking bathroom by this place’s standards. The counters and floor are made out of subway tile with a large oval mirror and sink combo on my left and a fancy standing shower next to the toilet on my right. Another door sits at the back of the bathroom, and I immediately go to open it, finding a long walk-in closet that’s eating away at the bathroom space.
“That explains it,” I mutter, looking at the matching uniform sets hanging neatly from the rack on my left. The dark green pleated skirt and white blouse ensemble with its black jacket make me scowl at the fact that I’m not getting to leave uniforms behind in high school since apparently Pinecrest still requires them during class hours. Antiquated bullshit in my opinion, but I’m not exactly in a position to be choosy when it comes to my choice in higher education at the moment. So I reach out and finger one of the ties while sighing at the fact that I don’t even know how to do them. “Weird.”
I step away from the clothes and quickly relieve my bladder before heading back to my room, pulling boxes open and unceremoniously dumping my clothes into the drawers in thecloset. Only taking the time to hang up the winter jackets and the few nice dresses my mother insisted I bring just in case the need for them arose. I force myself to wait until all the essentials are unpacked and my electronics are tucked neatly into the desk before starting on what I really want to devote my energy to.
Quickly opening up the three remaining boxes, I start to pull the books from them, separating them by era and theme and placing Voltaire on the shelves beside Nietzsche and the Brontë sisters next to Austen. The top shelf is reserved for my first edition of1984that Mom gifted me two years ago for Christmas and the old copy ofHamletthat Ollie jokingly gave me for our last birthday—the only Shakespeare in my collection. Some of the spicier stuff I own gets slotted in with the other contemporaries in the middle.
Marley comes back right as I’m putting the finishing touches on the shelves and pops her head in to see me turning one of my Funko Pops! of Toothless to rest at just the right angle.
“Ah.” Her wide eyes run along the shelves. “I think I just found my study partner.”
“Lucky you.” I grin, stepping back and taking in my hard work. “I don’t study with just anyone, but since you’re my roommate, I’ll make an exception and share notes.”
“Ha!” She smirks at me, nodding over her shoulder. “Come on, Bookish, I come bearing food and hope you like Italian.”
“Love it.”
The rest of my night is spent eating spaghetti with Marley and getting to know her. I learn that she’s been playing soccer practically as long as she’s been able to walk and that she has two younger sisters, which momentarily fascinates me, having only grown up with a brother. I quickly surmise that she doesn’t get along with her mom, and when she finds out I’m close with mine, she fires questions at me until delivering a verdict that she sounds badass. We’re winding down in the living room andfinishing off the garlic bread when she finally prods. “So your brother is here, right? The one they tried to kidnap too?”
I take my time chewing the bread before swallowing it down and finally answering. “Yeah, Ollie’s here with me. You’ll probably be able to tell who he is as soon as you see him.”
“You two look alike?”
“Oh, yeah.” I laugh softly. “He’s taller, but our coloring and features are very similar.”
She leans her head back against the chair. “Interesting.”
“What?” I cock my head to the side at her thoughtful expression. “Have you seen a picture or something? Think he’s cute?”
“No,” she scoffs. “I’ve seen no pictures, or if I have, I don’t remember him and have no time for guys anyway.” Her mouth opens, but she pauses before starting hesitantly. “I was just thinking that must have been hard for both of you…the whole, you know, kidnapping thing.”
“Yeah.” I swallow again, quickly clearing my throat to push through. “Thanks, it was, but I’m honestly just trying to move on now.”
Hopefully shutting down this line of conversation.
“Understood.” She nods. “I’m here if you ever want to talk, though. Just saying.”
