Page 7 of I Hear You

Madison

Aftercheckinginandgetting my dorm room key, it only takes me a few minutes to track down my room.

Fourth floor, sixth door from the stairs.

There are no elevators and having only one suitcase is currently a blessing. Pinehurst is a small campus and dorms are limited to incoming freshmen only. Which means I’ll have to move into off-campus housing next year and live with even more people. But, that’s next year's problem and right now I just have to worry about sharing the dorm room with one other person.

I push open the door to my new home. The space is bigger than I expected. I'd looked up photos online and may have even stalked a few previous students on social media. Thank you internet for giving me the ability to know what my surroundings will be like before I’m thrust into a new situation. The anxieties I get occasionally, thank you as well.

Standing in the doorway, I’m able to scan the entire place. There are two twin beds on opposite sides of the room. Wooden bed frames raise the beds high enough that they’ve tucked desks underneath each of them. The built-in ladder at the foot of the bed is needed to get to the actual bed part. Beneath a large window, two nightstand style dressers with four drawers each separate the beds. I notice there’s only one real closet in the corner of the room, but it’s huge.

By the look of things, my roommate has already been here. Half the closet is filled with clothes and shoes, and the bed on the left is already made with pink bedding. No sight of the roommate herself yet. Kitchens and bathrooms are communal by each dorm building floor, so maybe she’s off exploring them. There are still a few boxes she has left to unpack. She must be coming back at some point. I take advantage of having the room to myself and peek around a bit. Her clothes hanging in the closet consist of dresses, florals, and pastels. Her style is much cuter than my own. The shoe collection in the closet is more ballet flats and colored converse than any other style of shoe. A girly girl for sure, but practical, not a single pair of heels in sight.

I’m not fashion challenged, but my wardrobe is incredibly basic. Anything my mom bought me before she became less than motherly, I’ve outgrown. I couldn’t afford the newest styles and trends with my meager after-school job paychecks, let alone the designer brands that girls back at my high school all wore. Jeans and basic T-shirts are what I usually go for. Otherwise, it’s simple black leggings or short flowy dresses. If you wear the basics, you don’t have to worry about other girls questioning what designer you are or aren’t wearing. Hopefully, the clothing brand judgment is something everyone left back in high school.

I was supposed to have the room to myself until the start of the year, but I got notified a week ago I’d have a summer roommate after all. It was so last minute that even though I had my new roommates contact info–I didn’t have time to email her. She sent me an email a few days ago that made it seem like she’s genuinely excited to meet me and be roommates. I hope her expectations aren’t too high, because I don’t have a lot of experience with friendships.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: June 5th 12:31

Subject: Your New Roomie

Hi Madison, I’m Taylor!

I’m your new roommate at Pinehurst and I can’t wait to meet you! I’ll be moving in on Friday. When will you be moving in?

I’m a local in Easton, but moved here when I was 13. I’ve lived all over. Montana was probably my favorite state to live in before I landed in Easton. But Easton definitely feels more like home than anywhere else. I’m only moving into the dorms because I am dying to get some independence and the dorms were the cheapest option! Sorry, I’m rambling.

Move-in-weekend and the first day of classes are right around the corner, so I totally get it if you don’t have time to write back before then!

Just know I’m super excited to meet you!

Taylor

I pull my suitcase over to my side of the room, lay it down on the floor, and unzip it. I put away my few outfits in the nightstand drawers first. Then I throw my new bedding up onto the bed. I’ll worry about that later. If I put it on now, I’ll be too tempted to climb in and nap. At the bottom of my backpack is a wooden jewelry box. It’s one of the most important things in my bag. It has the few very personal items I own. A silver necklace that was Dad's grandmother’s. A torn and tattered photo of Dad holding me when I was about two years old. And a few other things that have become precious to me. Stacked neatly at the bottom of the box are my favorite emails from Ender. I tuck the box into the bottom drawer of the nightstand under my pajamas.

Hiding the jewelry box is done out of habit more than anything. Originally, its purpose was solely for storing those printed emails. At home, I’d even pried up one of the wooden floorboards to hide it. Mom had made it a habit of going through my room when I wasn’t home, and I didn’t want her to find them. Toward the end of living with her, I worried she’d find the necklace and take it–that was added to the box too.

I put my laptop on the desk, plug it in to charge and climb up to my bed to put on the new sheets. The door opens as I struggle to put the last corner in place. In walks a tiny blonde in a short floral summer dress, pink converse high tops, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. She’s carrying a stack of books that’s so tall she has to crane her neck to see around them. Our eyes meet.

“Hi! You must be Madison! I’m Taylor!” she says while unloading the stack of books onto her desk.

Should I climb down and shake her hand? Give her a hug? What is a proper greeting for someone you just moved in with? I decide to stay where I am, offering a small wave and a smile.

“Yup, that’s me!”

“I hope you don’t mind that I chose a side of the room before you got here. This side looks like it will get more of the early morning sun, so I took it, hoping you’d appreciate the other side of the room. Plus, in all the horror movies, the bed that’s closest to the door is always the first victim and so I gave you the bed furthest from the door—”

Taylor’s talking fast and animated, waving her hands around now that she’s put her books down. Unintentionally, I’ve halfway tuned her out as she goes on about her favorite horror movies. She’s small, like 5 feet tall at most. She’s talking a mile a minute, but her voice is kind of soothing, with its pitch raising and lowering with her excitement.

I realize she’s stopped talking and is staring at me. Shit. I think she asked me a question.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” I ask. Here’s to hoping I haven’t already offended my new roommate.

“Oh, I just asked if you needed help bringing in any more stuff.”

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