On the third walk up to her room, Bella was beginning to regret declining Charlie's offer to come and help her move in. It was nice to have a bit of a view from the third floor, but carrying everything up to it was a different story.
"Oh, hi," she said, seeing what she presumed was her new roommate standing in their room. Dropping her stuff on the floor, she extended her hand. "I'm Bella."
The young woman reciprocated shyly. "I'm Grace." She spoke in a soft voice, eyeing Bella with either wide-eyed awe or horror.
Looking down at herself, Bella wondered if she'd a serious wardrobe malfunction in hoofing it up and down the stairs.
Nope, she decided, but definitely sweaty. However, her t-shirt and shorts were in order.
Despite the warm day, Grace wore a long-sleeved blouse that was buttoned to the collar, this tucked into a heavy floor-length skirt.
"Where're you from?" Bella asked, deciding it would be good to take a break for a bit, sitting down at one of the small desks that faced each other.
"Utah," Grace said quietly. "Hildale."
"Wow, you're far from home."
Grace blushed floridly.
Bella felt an instant kinship. The girl's thin, pale hair, neatly pulled back, made her look like a sunburned turnip.
"Yes, I couldn't . . . get into any of the programs at home," she said. "So I'm stuck here."
Bella was surprised. Washington State wasn't Ivy League by any definition, but it was a good state school with a solid reputation.
"You had somewhere else you were hoping to go?" she asked, politely, but the girl's blush practically turned purple, and she regretted continuing in the vein of conversation.
Grace looked down, "yes," and then there were tears.
Oh crap.
Bella cast around for something else to talk about. "So, I saw a sign for a floor mixer down in the lounge, later, if you want to go?" Maybe this would perk her up?
Instead, Grace looked at her with disgust. "I would never attend an event like that." Then she turned around, and began angrily unpacking her belongings.
I guess we don't need to talk about who gets what side of the room? Bella thought.
On her last, slow trudge up the stairs, Bella tripped as she turned sideways to let someone else pass, and the contents of her flimsy box went flying.
To her profound embarrassment, it was the box of tampons that chose to open and spray its contents all over the stairwell.
A boy stopped to help her pick it all up. "Nothing like picking up a girl's tampon box as a way to introduce yourself. I'm Ben." He smiled at her, the expression revealing a healthy if imperfect set of teeth and a set of wrinkles by his eyes.
Yeah, he's definitely having a laugh.
"Thanks," Bella said, wishing she could will the heat in her cheeks to slink back where it belonged. "I'm Bella," she added, shaking his hand.
"Bella Frosh. Good to know."
"Pardon?"
"Frosh—first year," he answered, picking up a book and setting it back into the box. "Which floor?"
"Oh, no, I'm fine," she said, picking up the now-battered cardboard container.
"Given the way I watch you fall over, you look like you're used to falling down." There was that smile again. "Why don't I help you up to your room?"
"It's on the third floor." Maybe he'd think twice about helping if he knew how far up it was?
"Ah, the cooker," he said.
"The what?" She was beginning to feel like she was lost in a whole new language.
"The third floor is toasty all year round. Hot in summer, boiling in winter. Hence the name: the cooker. There's something wrong with the thermostat." He wagged a finger and then picked up the backpack she'd set down. "I got smart after first year there and requested the second floor. I'm in room 201, if you need anything."
When they got to Bella's room, Grace hissed in a breath when Ben set Bella's bag down. She was more beet-like by the time he left, giving Bella a casual "see ya" on the way out.
"No boys," she said to Bella. "Ever. In our room."
"Uh," Bella said, "why?" wondering just what kind of roommate she'd acquired.
"Because," she replied, as if Bella had missed something scandalously obvious.
"Okay." She'd try to be accommodating. It wasn't like she expected Jacob to spend the night, but still. "When you're here, no problem."
Grace's eyes grew wide at this statement, but she only murmured, "excuse me", and then knelt in front of her bed.
Is she . . . .praying?
It was then that Bella caught sight of the set of books neatly stacked on the bedside table. They had well-worn covers, dark covers, and the fine india paper was edged with gold. From where she stood, she could make out the word "Mormon" on the topmost one.
Oh.
That explained a lot.
Not a Mormon. No, she'd met enough of those in her time to know they didn't dress like Laura Ingalls. This was a different creature entirely, a fundamentalist Mormon. She would bet money on it.
Bella blew out a deep breath.
Well, at least, she told herself, I don't have to worry about her dromie coming home drunk and vomiting everywhere.
An hour later, Bella was mostly unpacked, and pulling her t-shirt away from her, determined that yes, so far, her room was sweltering. The window was open already, but the breeze was negligible. Looking at Grace, who had also unpacked her sparse belongings, Bella wondered how she would react to her changing in the room. She briefly considered going to the bathroom, but dismissed it. Turning her back to Grace, she pulled off her shirt and slipped on the new one, running a brush through her hair.
Peeking behind her, Bella saw that Grace was still on her knees. Apparently, her praying took a long time.
Bella hoped she wasn't the cause of the prayer.
Trying to be polite, she offered one more time: "I'm going to the social. It looks like they'll have some pizza and soda. Are you sure you don't want to come with me and meet the other girls on the floor?"
Grace was more polite this time, giving a quiet, No thank you, but have a nice time."
Bella smiled gently, nodding and then heading out the door.
The lounge was packed, and she stood at the entranceway for some time surveying the room before actually mustering the courage to step inside.
"Hey, Frosh Bella, come say hi!" Ben called out, waving her over.
Relieved to know at least one person, she was pleasantly surprised to be welcomed by the group of people around him.
Without success, she tried to keep track of all the names being thrown at her, but the only one that stuck was Cathy, who looked much like Bella did: petite and brunette.
They discovered they were both South Western transplants, Cathy from Los Vegas, and Bella from Phoenix.
"You didn't want to go south then?" Cathy asked, a glint in her eye.
"No." Bella shook her head, thinking of the several reasons for staying close to home, "you?"
She shook her head too. "The green and wet grows on you, you know?"
"Yeah," Bella said, liking her more and more, "Actually, I do."
They passed the time discovering their other mutual interests, and by the time Bella had returned to her dorm room, she was ready to do no more than brush her teeth and fall into bed.
She was relieved that the bathrooms didn't resemble the horror stories she'd heard about. When she returned to her room, Grace had already changed into her night dress and was in bed, reading what appeared to be a nursing textbook.
"Night," Bella said to her, turning off her own bedside lamp.
"Blessed sleep," came the soft reply.
It felt strange to hear, but not unpleasant, and Bella smiled at the thought. Her sleep had not always been so blessed. She touched the dreamcatcher she'd hung on the bed frame, promising herself she'd call Jake in the morning before class.
The heat of the room was uncomfortable, but Bella didn't think Grace would be up for leaving the door open a crack, so she let it recall the warmth of Jacob's arms, remembering the many hours they'd lingered together on the cool grey beach at La Push. It was a pleasant descent into the nothingness of sleep.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.