I do not own RENT and any characters or themes associated with RENT
One
Joanne Jefferson couldn't believe her mother would be so cruel. But it was happening, Joanne's worst nightmare. Boarding school.
Miss porters was a boarding school in Washington. The school had starting admitting boys three years prior, for before it had been an all-girls school. Her parents, Nancy and Fredrick Jefferson, thought it would be an amazing place for their exceptional daughter. The exception daughter did not.
Joanne had wanted to stay in New York where all her friends were and at her old school where she knew all the teachers. Even though she knew this school was better academically, she was adamant she could get herself into Harvard with credits from her old school. Joanne hated change. Loathed it.
Another thing she disliked was that she'd be sharing a room. While signing the papers for the school, she found out that she'd be sharing a room with another girl in her grade or a year older. Joanne was not impressed.
Getting to the school was easy, it just involved a plane ride and a car ride. Getting inside was another matter.
To get a room, you had to get a parking spot, and go wait in line for a key outside your dorm building. All buildings were named after someone famous person from way-back-when. Hers was the Mary Barrett Dyer building.
Waiting in line was horrible, since it was very sunny and Joanne didn't have on a tank top or anything especially cool.
Sighing, she looked up at the clear blue sky and wondered if it would always be like this. Horrible heat. Then she remembered she was up North, near Canada. It would be cold again soon.
"You're just not used to it, dear." Her mom said and patted her shoulder awkwardly. Joanne tried to smile at her mom in reassurance but couldn't do it. She definitely didn't want to be there when she saw a man, who could be the size of a bear, hug a smaller blonde man.
"Roger! Missed you buddy!" the man said in a booming voice. Joanne winced and moved forward in the line, she realized she was now first.
"Joanne Jefferson, Mary Barrett Dyer dorm." Nancy spoke for her daughter. Joanne knew there was no going back now. She was stuck here for ten months. Joy.
She was positively ecstatic.
Not.
"Here is your key, you're on floor five door 666." The lady said. As Joanne turned away, her key in her hand, she spoke quietly to herself.
"The devils number." she muttered under her breath.
Grabbing her phone out of her pocket, she turned it on to see how much battery she had left. Sixty four percent.
She slid it back into her pocket and helped her parents unload the car, they rented, onto a dolly.
"Now, after we take this up to your room, your mother and I are going to get your other things from the post office. Okay, Kitten?" Fredrick asked his daughter.
"Yes Daddy." Joanne said meekly. Fredrick smiled jollily at his daughter as the three made their way inside the air conditioned elevator.
Joanne had always hated elevators. The idea of being in an inclosed, small box wasn't appealing to her. Expecially when you thought about what would happen if the cabels snapped.
When the doors opened they revealed a hallway with white walls. Walking out, Joanne looked to her left and saw an open room with couches. Mentally, she made a note to look later.
They walked down the right halway and went down the numbers.
661… 663… 665… 667…
Confused, Joanne looked at the other side of the halway and saw her room number. 666.
"Ready?" she looked at her mom, took a deep breath and unlocked the door.
Opening it she saw that the room wasn't horrible like she thought it would be. Obviously, the other girl hadn't gotten there yet. The room had two single beds on either side of a good sized window. The door was on the wall right across from the window, both beds were against the walls and there were two desks between them.
On the same wall as the door was a table that had a TV on it and underneath a mini fridge, there was also a closet.
On her application Joanne had put that she wanted a loft bed, so the bed she assumed was hers, which was straight across from the door.
"We can fit your desk under your bed." Her father said as he looked at it, measuring with his eyes. "then we can go get a dresser for you." Joanne nodded not speaking.
Finally her parents left her with her boxes and had instructed her to move her desk under the bed.
Joanne starting doing as she was told and wondered why she had to do this. Was there a point? There was, for more room.
The window streched out the whole way between the two beds. And when Joanne finally had her desk under her bed, she looked across the room.
The other bed was also a loft bed, but a dresser/desk combo was already under it. The other desk would be pointless, Joanne concluded.
Her boxes were stacked at the end of her bed, and her suitcases beside her bed.
Joanne once again pulled out her phone and sent a text to her best friend;
At the school, in my new room. My roommate isn't here yet –Jo
Joanne opened the box that was labeled for her desk and started to pull things out and place them in the drawers, when there was a knock on the door.
She openeded it to see a box, and her parents.
"Got it!" Her mom said happily as she pushed her way inside and her parents started to put it together. Joanne sighed and climbed up onto the bed. Feeling her phone buz in her shorts pocket, she pulled it out;
Bro, send pix. work. Ttyl –Kat
Joanne rolled her eyes at her friends incorrect use of the word bro, the incorrect spelling of "pics" and the incorrect use of the at symbol.
Later –Jo
"Joanne, do you want it where the desk used to be?" Nancy asked.
"Yes." Replied Joanne.
Finally the work was done and her parents were leaving. Her roommate still hadn't shown up but she tried not to think of it.
She put all her stuff away, books on the book part of the dresser (the side had a bookshelf) and her clothing in the drawers.
When she was pulling out her quilt (black and white large pokadots) the door was unlocked and opened, and in walked her roommate.
The girl had an air of self confidence about her. Her hair was dark blonde and her skin pale. The people behind her were obviously not her parents, but were carying in the boxes for her. Then, as Joanne sat there and watched, they pulled her desk appart that was under the window and then left.
The girl completely ignored Joanne as she put her things away and Joanne tried not to stare.
"I do not want a room mate." She said in a thick french accent.
"Oh, sorry." Joanne said quickly.
"I applied to get a room wiz out one." Continued the girl, ignoring Joanne, "but zey insisted I 'ave one."
"If it helps I don't want one either."
" 'ow would zat 'elp?" the girl asked. Joanne shrugged.
"I'm Joanne." Said the mocha skinned girl as she held out her hand to be shaken. The girl stared at it for a moment, wondering whether she should shake it or not, but then did. Hesitently.
"I am Élénore Babineaux, zee French Ambassadors daughter." Élénore said. Joanne smiled at her before turning back to her phone.
Joanne had packed four boxes of granola bars, a family sized box of cheerios, a case of water, a pack of gum, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of nutella. She was sure she could at least get through September.
Not liking new things or exploring meant that Joanne was not going to try and find the dining hall or the small café's that were scattered across campus.
That night there class schedules had been emailed to them, so Joanne had written hers out on a time table in her planner.
Her first class was English in the George Washington building. (housing buildings named after females, class ones named after males)
She walked out, grabbing her key as she left. Élénore was still getting ready, doing her fancy makeup.
Joanne walked out the doors and through the outside/inside tunnels. They were technically outside, but had a roof and things blocking the snow from coming in.
Joanne felt self contous in her cut off shorts and strapless black shirt. Nobody seemed to notice her, and girls were wearing much worse.
Finally, when she reached the building she walked up the stairs to the second floor.
She found a seat at the front of class, in front of the teacher's desk beside the window. A perfect place to get her work done and be able to look outside at the same time.
The class slowly filled up and Joanne felt butterfly's in her stomach. Not the nice ones you got when you had a crush either, the bad ones you got when scared. She hated to be scared, it felt as though she was out of control.
Joanne needed control.
Soon the door closed and she looked up from her book (Fangirl) so see the teacher walk in.
The teacher was pretty, with long flaming red hair. She took off her glasses and look at all the students carefully.
"I am Professor Maclean." She said with a slight British accent. "I would tell you I am just here to teach you English. That is not true."
She walked over to the board and wrote something down, Originality.
"You are all in the eleventh grade now. And in a year you will be applying for scholarships and universities. But at the moment, you're all following a set of guidelines that English teachers have told you to use. Paragraphs are seven to ten sentences. You must write color with an O, no U. Z is pronounced Zee not Zed.
"Now you all need to find yourselves, so while working through English this year I am going to try and help you do that. Give you the writing freedom many of your other teachers may have not done, and will still not do." She looked around the class. "Everyone has their own writing style, and by the end of the year I hope to be able to tell yours from the person sitting next to you."
Joanne smiled a bit, she knew she liked this class. Because if she didn't, she would've been an idiot.
