CHAPTER TWO: Roommate Trouble
Tris
I leave the cafeteria with a smile on my face for the first time since I moved into my dorm room. The first two nights, I ate alone; the only friend I really have here is Eric. He has a few friends who also enrolled at Chicago University, but they aren't really people that I would choose to spend my time with. Four was really nice, though, and his friends seemed like a lot of fun as well; maybe I'll make some friends and not have to sit there all alone every night that Eric has to work.
Eric and I started dating nearly two years ago, right after I moved to Chicago. I no longer have any family, but Eric has been my one and only constant since my world fell apart when I was sixteen. It's been a hard few years, but I think things should be a lot easier now that I'm at college, living on campus. Eric works nights tending bar at a club that is too expensive for me to ever visit, so nights can be lonely.
I head back to my first floor dorm room. That's one aspect of college, so far, that I really have not had good luck with. While the rooms from the sixth floor up, like Eric's, are more like apartments- and of course cost a enough more that I couldn't bring myself to choose one when I am so limited financially- mine is basically a tiny box. That isn't the bad part, though. No, where I had really bad luck was with which roommate the college assigned me. I tried to switch within minutes of Molly walking through that door, but I was unsuccessful.
I unlock the door and practically tiptoe in, praying that Molly will be out. Unfortunately, my bad luck holds steady. She's there. I head straight to the dresser, trying to stay out of her way, planning to pull out gym clothes and some clothes to take with me to Eric's tonight and get out of there as fast as I can, but when I see my bed, I freeze.
There is reddish, clay-like mud all over my quilt- and I mean, thick and covered in it- and Molly sits on her bed with her arms crossed, smirking at me.
This isn't just any quilt. It's a quilt that my mother made for me when I was a child, and it's one of my most prized possessions. She spent months stitching it before giving it to me for my eleventh birthday. I was about to start middle school in just a few months, and it was a part of a bigger gift; she and I worked together to completely redecorate my bedroom, transforming it from a room made for a princess- and unicorn-loving little girl to that of a more grown-up, almost teenager. I didn't change a thing in it until I moved to Chicago after my parents died. That quilt was the only tangible reminder I had of one of my favorite memories of her.
"W-what…?" I swallow hard. "What happened to my quilt?"
Molly gives me the fakest look of innocence I've seen in my life. "Oh, I needed a blanket for a picnic. I was sure you wouldn't mind. It's just a little dirt, and that blanket is so ugly, anyway." She just can't keep that smirk off her face.
Tears prick at my eyes, but I can't let her get to me. I can't let her see weakness. I bite my cheek to keep the tears at bay as I throw enough clothes for a week into a large duffel bag then fold the quilt carefully and stuff it in on top. After grabbing a tank top, sports bra and running shorts, as well as my cross-trainers, and turn to leave without a word.
I freeze at the sound of Molly's voice. "Leaving so soon?" she sneers. "Going to see your little boyfriend, slut?" I want nothing more than to turn around and punch in her ugly, bulbous nose. Honestly, it would probably improve her looks. But I clench my fists at my sides, take a couple of deep breaths, and continue on without a word, changing in the bathroom down the hall on my way to the gym in the dormitory basement.
I decide to work the punching bags today, pretending with each hit that the bag is Molly's face. Eric started teaching me to fight, at my request, after my the first time someone tried to break into my apartment. A teenage girl living alone in a not-so-great neighborhood of Chicago isn't the safest situation possible. Eric really only helped me when I badgered him to, but it was enough to learn the basics and train on my own from there.
Molly and I, of course, have a history. When I transferred to Lincoln High School partway through my junior year, apparently she had been pining over Eric since middle school. He quickly took an interest in me, and that was all it took for her to hate me. Ever since, her main goal in life has been to torment me… and she's still at it. She has done everything from pulling my towel off in the school locker room to hanging my embarrassingly small bra from the big oak tree on our high school campus; from slamming me against lockers so hard I got a bump on my head to "accidentally" dropping her bowl of spaghetti upside-down in my backpack. She even got suspended once, but it didn't stop her. Ending up with Molly as a roommate was definitely a stroke of bad luck, but I would expect no less- bad luck is typically the only kind of luck I have.
I feel a little better after my workout… and then, after I shower, I open up my duffel bag for a change of clothes and see my quilt folded at the top. Tears swim in my eyes all over again. I pull out my phone and tap Eric's contact- one of the few names on my recent calls list.
"Yeah?" he answers, sounding annoyed. I bite my lip and debate telling him to just forget it, that I'll see him later. "What? I'm at work, babe."
"Um, I'm going to stay at your place tonight if that's okay? Or maybe, you know… most nights?"
He sighs, sounding exasperated. "I already said you could, Tris."
I nod, then realize that he can't see me because this is a phone call. "Yeah…" He has to be able to hear how tight my voice is. I know it shouldn't embarrass me but it still does. "Yeah, I know. Just, um… did your roommate show up yet?"
"I don't know, Tris," he snaps. "Don't you think I would have told you if he did? He hadn't when I left for work but he might be there now. I guess you'll just have to go up there and see. If he's there, just stay out of his way until I can talk to him." Tears are streaming down my face now. I sit there silently. "Did something happen, Tris?" There's a lot of noise in the background and I know if I keep him on the phone much longer he's really going to get irritated. I'm sure they're busy at the club. It is a Friday night, after all.
"Just… Molly ruined my quilt. The one my mom made me."
"It's just a blanket, Tris. You can get a new one." He just doesn't get it. It's not just a blanket to me. It's like losing her all over again.
"Yeah, okay," I squeak, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "Okay. I'll see you tonight."
"Later, babe." The line goes dead.
I splash my face with cold water before leaving the bathroom, then head straight to the elevator. After punching the button for the tenth floor, I lean tiredly against the wall. My mother always understood when I was upset. She was so kind, patient and selfless. I run my finger over the tattoo that is just barely hidden under my shirt collar, the one I got for my family. It's a habit; whenever I miss them too much, I touch the ravens inked onto my collarbone, flying toward my heart. There are three: one for my mother, one for my father, and one for my brother Caleb, even if he doesn't deserve it. He may be a sorry excuse for a brother, but he's still my family, nonetheless.
When the elevator doors open, I slowly trudge down the hall to room 1024. Eric gave me the spare key to his place when I first showed up at the door upset about Molly's appearance. I have no doubt that if I stuck around my own dorm room, eventually I'd wake up with a butter knife in my eye or something, so I stay away as much as I possibly can. I'm really nervous for his roommate to show up; what if he isn't okay with me being around all the time? Then what will I do?
No one is in the apartment when I enter, and all the lights are off. I switch on lights in the kitchen and living room; I somehow feel less lonely when there's plenty of light. In Eric's bedroom, I look for any spare patch of floor to set my bag on, but there is none, so I end up tossing it out into the living room on my way to make myself a drink before tidying up Eric's room. It's such a disaster, I won't be able to stand being in here as it is. On my way there I peek in the other bedroom and my stomach lurches, afraid I'll be kicked out and have to go back to my own room tonight, when I see that the roommate has, in fact, arrived. There are a few bags on the floor and it looks like others have already been unpacked.
As long as no one is here, I figure I can listen to whatever I want, so I set my phone to play Red Hot Chili Peppers on the bluetooth speaker I got Eric for Christmas. I am about half done tidying up when I hear the front door shut... and I freeze. I feel like I've broken into someone's home or something, like I don't belong here. I don't really feel that way when it's just Eric and me, but now there's this unknown guy living here and he just walked in the door, certainly not expecting to find some random girl in his apartment.
As my mind races, I hear him walking around the living room, then I think maybe go into his own room. I'm relieved that it seems I won't have to face him yet, and I resume gathering up the dirty dishes Eric has already managed to accumulate in this room, carefully stacking them so I can take everything to the sink in one trip.
Only a few moments pass before I hear footsteps in the living room again… this time coming toward Eric's room.
"Hey!" I hear a deep voice call out. "I was wondering when I'd get to meet you. I'm-"
My head snaps to the doorway as Eric's roommate stops mid-sentence and I see the guy from the cafeteria, Four, standing there with his mouth half open and his eyes wide in surprise, one hand gripping the door frame. Then his eyebrows knit together as his expression turns from startled to confused. "Tris?"
