"It was amazing how you could get so far from where you'd planned, and yet find it was exactly where you needed to be." ~Sarah Dessen, What Happened to Goodbye
"Sometimes, you just can't tell anybody how you really feel. Not because you don't know why. Not because you don't know your purpose. Not because you don't trust them. But because you can't find the right words to make them understand." ~Unknown
Move-In Day, mid-August
"Are you freakin' kidding me!?" she yelled to the student in charge of dorm check-ins. The student, though he was at least a foot taller than the five-foot-something Asian freshman, could not help but cower at the look of disbelief and rage currently present on the girl's face.
"I am sorry, ma'am, but due to renovations of some of our dorms and delays in construction for our new suites, we had to come up with some creative solutions to house our freshmen on campus this semester. This was a last resort, trust me," the student said, holding up his hands as if to try and shield himself from the girl's seething anger.
The girl glanced down at her room assignment again and then back up at the student worker. Though she noted early on his name tag read "Brunden" (a horrid name if you asked for the girl's opinion), the girl decided to annoy him some. To her, it would be an outlet to release some of her pent-up frustration and raging anger.
"Now, you listen here, Brenden, I requested a residence in one of the newer dorms situated close to the center of campus, in close proximity to the math and science buildings. As I am sure you were aware from my form, I'm a mechanical engineering major," the Asian student emphasized. "Instead, you have placed me in the oldest of the dorms – which is structurally unsound, mind you – located in the farthest corner of campus, over a mile away from the S.T.E.M. buildings. I don't want to hear your argument that I am near some of the classrooms; those are for liberal art and fine art majors. I don't give a damn about Shakespeare or Mozart. What I do care about is math and science, and I want a room in one of those dorms near the S.T.E.M. buildings – NOW!"
Some of Brunden's cowardice had faded as the girl poked fun at his name. Though that happened to him more times than he could count (he had it on his bucket list to get his name legally changed), it never failed to anger him when someone deliberately got his name wrong. He could not put up with this sort of abuse any longer.
"Now you listen here, ma'am," Brunden began. "I'm only in charge of check-ins, not dorm assignments. If you have a problem with your dorm assignment, you can schedule an appointment to talk with someone in the Office of Student Affairs about getting a room transfer. But, until then, please take your room key and go onto your room. You're in room 305, the corner room on the left side of the building, facing the wooded area." With this, Brunden turned his focus on getting the few other students checked-in and settled. But before he could do this, he felt himself being grabbed by the collar and being pulled downwards.
"Now, you listen here, buddy boy," the engineering student hissed. "If any other issues arise with my dorm assignment today, there will be hell to pay. So that person had better be watching their back, or they'll be sorry they ever tried to mess with me."
With this warning, the student released Brunden. She did so with such fury and force that Brunden stumbled backwards into the table, knocking papers and pens all over the place. The petite girl grabbed her bags from the sidewalk and her papers and dorm key from the table. She then took off toward her dorm, Margaret Allison Memorial Hall. There had better not be any other surprises with this room assignment, the female student thought. I am not in the mood to deal with anything else.
"Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing in my room?" she viciously demanded.
He glanced up in the direction of the voice and startled by what he saw. He had expected a six-foot tall, rough and tumble, and, most importantly, male roommate. She was the exact opposite. He noticed her tiny five-foot, three-inch frame and her messy, jet black hair. He was surprised that such anger could come out of such a small thing. "I believe you mean my room," he corrected.
"I think you'll find that this is room 305. It is mine," the Asian student declared, throwing her bags down on the bed.
"Interesting," he thought out loud. He passed her the paper with his room information on it. "I guess we're roommates. I'm Tobias M. Curtis, but you can call me Toby. I am a biochemistry major with a focus in pre-med and a double minor in psychology and communications. I am going to be a doctor someday."
What are we, in second grade? she thought to herself. "This cannot be happening," she groaned.
"So, do you have a name?"
"Happy," she informed him. Her face divulged about as much information as a brick wall.
"I asked you your name," Toby stated. "Not your mood."
"And I told you my name," she snapped back. "Not my mood."
"Well, that has got to be the biggest irony in the world," he pointed out. "You seem to be just about the world's unhappiest person."
"Haha, very funny, Doc," Happy said, rolling her eyes. If she was stuck with him, Happy was going to cause someone somewhere some real pain. And with this new surprise, that list only grew longer by the minute.
"Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans." ~Allen Saunders
"I knew the first time we met, you'd be kinda hard to forget." ~Anonymous
