I slide a smooth brass key into the lock of my dorm room, room 333 exactly. I take a deep breath, prepared to start my new life at Warriors Highschool. Unlocking this door is they start of something new and wonderful, I think, smiling softly. Taking a deep breath, I tune the key, closing my eyes for, I don't know, dramatic tension. The key's jammed. "Way to ruin my moment, universe," I grumble, wiggling the key a little, then turning it.
It works this time, and I open my door. My roommate, whoever she is, isn't here yet. The room is completely empty. I can tell it hasn't been used in a while, except for the occasional janitor or cleaning person. It's spacious, with a large window that has an awesome view outside. On each side of the window there's a surprisingly comfy looking bed, each with a small nightstand next to it. At the end the beds are desks. The room is a rectangle, and I notice two doors, directly across from each other, spaced at the longer sides.
I cross over to one, twist the handle, and find a bathroom equipped with two sinks, a toilet, shower, mirror, and medicine cabinets.
The other room is a closet for two. Can you believe it? A highschool dorm room has a walk in closet! I gotta say, for a dorm room, it's awesome. A sheet of paper is taped to the window, I notice, when I leave the closet and examine the rest of the room.
Frecklestripe, Year Two, Course One, Sky Quarter
That's me! This year, I'm not a newbie any more. When your a year one, nothing exciting really happens. I mean, you get sorted into quarters, of which there are five, Thunder, Wind, River, Sky, And Shadow, but you don't get to stay in dorm rooms or participate in a ton of cool activities. You stay home with your parents, who at that point are only there to get you ready for year two. When you become a year two, your memory of any family besides siblings is wiped. You can't do anything about it, so no one was really close to their parents anyway. It's not a huge loss. Course one means you chose the normal route. Course Two is a specialized course in medicine. Only a few take it.
I turn my attention back to the paper. It reads-
Moriah, Year Two, Course One, Shadow Quarter
Beneath the two headlines are our student ID pictures. I take a moment to look at mine. My hair is dark brown, but streaked with cream-white and gray. My hair naturally ombrés to ginger at the tips, and in the picture it's lose and wavy. My eyes, which have heterochromia, are a teal-blue shade and pale golden. A little bit of makeup, very natural, is applied to my tanned features. Freckles cover my nose. I wasn't named Frecklestripe for no reason. My pale orange sundress that I took the picture in is actually what I'm wearing now. A lot of people say orange is a bad color, but some people CAN make it work. But not, like, neon orange. That's just gross.
I then look at my roommate. I'm surprised she isn't a Sky Quarter as well, but I guess the school doesn't really care about that. I can tell just by looking at her she's short, because her shoulders are barely in the frame. She's pretty, with curly, shoulder length blonde hair and heathery-blue eyes. She has a rounded face that's soft looking, but something about the glint in her gaze tells me she's anything but soft. I notice that she too has freckles, but not nearly as many as me. Tearing my gaze away from my new roommate's picture, I look around.
I plop my suitcases down on the left bed. Closer to the closet. I kick my sandals off, and the wood flooring is cool benath my feet, so I step onto the blue-gray rug. It's lush, and my feet sink into it. Pulling out my bed set, I began to make my new bed, arranging the soft pale orange sheets and quilts. At one point, I come across my favorite stuffed animal. A small cream colored bear, with an embroidered face and fuzzy velveteen ears. I prop it up against my various pillows, smiling at it.
It will take me forever to unpack all my stuff, but at least I can jazz up my side of the room. Another note on the wall reads "Students are allowed to personalize walls and furniture to their taste." Awesome. I reach into my suitcase, grabbing a box labeled fragile. Tearing it open, I see stacks of pictures, a box of nails, and a small hammer.
I have no idea how I managed to get into the school with a hammer. But I did, so whatever. I begin hanging the pictures on the blue-gray walls. Most of them are images of beautiful sunsets, aside from the occasional selfie of me and my bestie Lionfrost. All in matching pale orange frames. My favorite picture is an adorable selfie of me and Lionfrost in front of a sunset. Someone else was taking the picture but I forget who.
Our arms are slung around each other, heads bent together, half smiling and half laughing. We're wearing semi-matching outfits, Lionfrost in a cute white tank top and dark blue skinny jeans, me in another sundress, but this time it's white and I wear a brown belt. On my feet are slightly dressy brown flip flops, and Lionfrost wears strappy brown sandals. Our hair is in braids, except hers is longer and more put together, since she always wears braids. Mine is messy and slightly windblown. But I still love the picture.
The sunset in the background is beautiful. Our backs are illuminated with the rosy glow, making us look magical. Clouds stray across the sky in wisps, turned orange by the fiery sun plastered in the pink sky. It's beautiful.
I hang that picture front and center, now even more excited to see Lionfrost for the first time in moons. My beautiful best friend, with her long strawberry blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and perfect figure. She's really pretty. Prettier than me when I'm trying my hardest and she isn't trying at all. But no way am I jealous, because not only is she beautiful, she's the best friend any girl could ask for.
Suddenly I hear an extremely loud thump. I wheel around, and there, standing in my doorway, is Moriah. A bright blue suitcase had dropped out of my new roommate's hands and exploded on the floor, spilling out into the hallway.
"Oops," she mutters, glancing up at me sheepishly.
Great Stars, I think this is gonna be a long year.