~Chapter 2~

Rapunzel emerges from her dream state to the sound of someone knocking—no, pounding—on the door outside. And from the sounds of it, whoever it is has been there for quite some time.

Oh, no! Has she slept in? Mother must be furious, and now she's going to get a lecture on personal responsibility and how people who want to be doctors don't laze about in bed like some sort of princess because it'll make you obese, or your muscles will atrophy, or it develops into a disgusting cycle…

She is about to swing her legs over the edge of the bed when she freezes and notices the fence on one side of her bed, and the six-foot drop beyond.

Oh.

The insistent knocking comes again. It must be one of the RAs. It's Day 1 of orientation, and the first item on the schedule is a "cultural competency" meeting at 8 a.m. The RAs had promised last night to come around at 7 to wake the whole floor up and accompany them to the assembly.

Across the room, Mulan responds by snuggling deeper into her comforter, only to bolt upright seconds later as her alarm clock—a red Chinese-style dragon striking an obnoxious cymbal-like gong—goes off. "Mushu," she groans, a hand snaking out from under the sheets to smack the snooze button.

They can hear voices outside now. Ariel must have answered the door. Her bed doesn't need to be fully lofted like theirs because she's in a single, so she doesn't have to risk her neck every time she climbs in or out of bed.

Rapunzel briefly considers stealing an extra five minutes of sleep. Mother would freak, but Mother isn't here to police her. 7 a.m. was a reasonable enough wakeup time back home, but everything—her heavy eyelids, her aching back, her foggy brain—feels so off this morning. Maybe she's just tired from getting up so early yesterday. Maybe she just needs a few more days to adjust to sleeping in a new bed.

Yawning, Rapunzel gingerly steps down her ladder and pads out into the kitchenette without bothering to straighten the sheets. Who cares if her bed isn't perfectly made? She already learned to accept defeat yesterday, and it's not like Mother will ever know.

"Oh, good, you're up." It's Tiana. "It's a little after 7 now, but we're meeting in the common area outside the elevators at 7:45."

Forty-five minutes? On a normal day back home, Rapunzel would probably be ready with plenty of time to spare, but when is she going to find the time to eat breakfast here? A trip to the dining hall yesterday took about fifteen minutes. Never mind the time it would take to actually eat. There's no way she's going to be able to eat breakfast and get back in time to join the rest of the floor.

Skipping breakfast is harmful. Mother has made this point plenty of times. If you haven't eaten since dinner the night before, over 12 whole hours ago, it makes it a lot harder to think clearly if your brain and stomach are busy wailing, "But…I…neeeeeed…foooooooooood…" In fact, when Rapunzel was younger, Mother would threaten her with no breakfast the next morning whenever she misbehaved because she knew how terrible it is for your body.

She'll just have to stop by at the vending machine down the hall. Admittedly, she did balk when she discovered yesterday that they don't offer any healthy options, but she supposes it's better than getting no nutrients. And what Mother doesn't know won't kill her, right? Once classes start, she'll just have to get up extra-early so she can have time to have breakfast in the mornings.

For all the hype around starting college and how it's going to shape your future and change your life forever, orientation is off to a rather underwhelming start.

The speaker at the cultural competency assembly is a tall, skinny guy with funny-looking glasses who introduced himself as Dr. Milo Thatch, professor of linguistics. Rapunzel tries to give people the benefit of the doubt, but this presentation really is not going well. He keeps switching slides and then switching back, like it's his first time seeing this PowerPoint, too.

Rapunzel tuned out almost immediately after he started spouting off statistics about the demographics on campus. She knows it's rude, but she already knows all of this stuff. Back when she was still applying to colleges, Mother sat her down at the computer to prepare for her online interviews. She had to scour each school's website and read about their history, their values, their campus culture, and their programs of study offered so that she could impress each school with how much research she had done on them.

Walt Disney University, in particular, has a reputation for accepting students who aren't native to Epcot. In fact, 90% of undergraduates at WDU are outsiders. It's one of the reasons she decided to enroll here instead of at Corona U, where just about everyone is Coronan and most of the undergraduates went to high school together. A homeschooled freak like her would never fit in there.

Not that she has a much better chance fitting in at WDU, either. Look no further than the fiasco yesterday with a certain accidental Peeping Tom. (It got even more embarrassing afterwards, when Mulan pointed out that their bedroom door does, in fact, lock. But how was Rapunzel supposed to know that when she spent most of her days rattling around alone in that little cottage in the woods while Mother was away at work?) Plus, WDU is a world-class university. The people here are smart. She's going to have to work extra-hard to keep up with everyone else (especially the premeds), and she's never even had classmates before!

Meanwhile, Mulan is playing some kind of candy matching game on her phone, completely oblivious to her roommate's emotional turmoil. Ariel has her ear buds in and is either bobbing her head to whatever she's listening to or nodding off. At the end of the row, Max and Tiana are checking their watches and not even bothering to be subtle about it. Some of the kids around them are actually holding side conversations as the speaker is presenting—and they're not even whispering discreetly.

Rapunzel supposes she's in no position to judge, since this assembly is really, really boring. But if she had acted like these people during lessons with Mother, she would have been sent to her room for the rest of the day and threatened with no lunch, no dinner, no bathroom breaks, the works. Is it normal to completely ignore a speaker if the presentation is boring? Does the speaker even care?

How did a linguistics professor get stuck with reading race riot statistics off a PowerPoint slide to incoming freshmen anyway? He probably can't wait to get this over with and go back to his research. She vaguely remembers seeing his picture on the WDU website when she was preparing for her interview. His work has something to do with rediscovering the language of the ancient city of Atlantis—something that has never really piqued her interest, but she's certain it's infinitely more fascinating than this assembly. Maybe the university bribed Dr. Thatch into doing this in exchange for more funding.

Her phone buzzes just then. Rapunzel slouches down in her seat and tries to pull her phone out without drawing attention. It's a text from Mother.

"Happy 1st day of orientation, Flower! I hope you're paying attention!"

She quickly stuffs her phone back in her pocket and sits up straighter. Sometimes, she swears the woman has eyes everywhere…

Date rape awareness training is awkward.

Like, really awkward. The speakers for this presentation are a comedy group that travels from school to school, putting on skits that educate college students about consent and protection. And they're not afraid to use, ah, raunchy language in their skits. Right now, the scenario is about a guy invading the girl's personal space and being really pervy (the obvious message being, "If she doesn't seem interested, back off").

They've already sat through a two-hour lecture on "cultural competency," as well as another assembly on underage drinking and Ritalin abuse among college students. A series of comedy skits should be a welcome change of pace. Except, Rapunzel somehow got separated from her roommates on the way here, so she's stuck amid five or six guys from their floor, and they're all nudging and winking at each other every time the presenters mention anything about reproductive anatomy.

Sigh.

So far, orientation has been a series of lectures on common sense, nothing that will help her get ahead as a premed. At least, it all seems like common sense to Rapunzel because it's what she's heard nearly every day from Mother for eighteen years. Don't do drugs, don't do racist things that can get you expelled, don't put yourself in danger. Easy peasy.

The afternoon is no better. She has a premed meeting and a panel discussion from upperclassmen on how to take effective notes and study for exams. On paper, they seem to be geared more toward what she's looking for, but even they turn out to be disappointing.

Mulan comes with her to the premed presentation, in a building that takes them quite a while to find because it's tucked away in some obscure corner of campus beyond an overgrown garden that isn't even on the map. They follow the map along a path but stop when it leads right into a creepy-looking forest.

("Hey, maybe it's like a test," Mulan quips. "Only the bravest and most persistent get to know the secrets of premed success.")

So they're late walking into the building where the event is supposed to be held. And when they find the building, they can't figure out where in the building the meeting is. There's a piece of paper taped to the front door that reads, "Pre-Medicine Presentation will be held in Room—" but someone has torn off the rest of the note. (Darn those cutthroat premeds!)

Rapunzel winds up making a fool of herself in front of Mulan when she opens a door to what she thinks is a lecture hall, but it's actually just a janitor's closet. Then a janitor walks by and yells at them. He mutters something about dumb blondes and bookish Asians with no common sense and then snaps that the premeds are supposed to be downstairs in the basement.

So they arrive at the presentation twenty minutes late, and the door squeaks when they try to open it unobtrusively, causing the entire (packed) room to turn around and stare as they tiptoe in. Mulan darts into the nearest row of empty seats and signals for Rapunzel to join her, but the entire row happens to bear a handicap placard, so she looks around for another empty seat.

Then the professor giving the presentation stops and calls out, "Is there a problem?"

Realizing that he's addressing her…and that everyone in the room is staring again (probably wondering what a ditz like her is doing in this premed meeting), Rapunzel squeaks, "Um, no, sir. Everything's…fine. Good! Goody great-great!"

But instead of resuming his lecture, he keeps looking at her expectantly.

What? Did she suddenly sprout a second head? Is her fly unzipped? (He's all the way in the front of the lecture hall, so how can he tell?)

"Rapunzel, sit down." Mulan's hiss cuts through the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

Oh.

She does so, gingerly, as if the seat cushion is made of lava, and the presentation continues. The speaker is talking about how there's really no "right" way to get into medical school, how you can have a golden 4.0 GPA and still get rejected if you don't have enough extracurriculars, but Rapunzel can barely pay attention because she is sitting in a seat reserved for someone else. For a handicapped person. She can't help but imagine Mother's disapproving scowl. "You were always such an obedient child. It's such a shame, now that you're in college, that you think yourself too good for following the rules."

She's barely been at college for twenty-four hours, and she's already slept in late, not made her bed, eaten junk food for breakfast, zoned out during lecture, been late to a lecture, and stolen a seat from a handicapped person!

When the professor allows everyone to come down to the front of the room and add their email addresses to the mailing list, Rapunzel walks out the door, not bothering to check if he noticed. So what if he's on the premed advising committee? She can just schedule meetings with one of the other advisers instead.

Scratch that. She should take a gap year. Learn how to function in the real world first. Then cut her hair and dye it brown. Change her name. Start over as an entirely new person. A socially savvy person who doesn't trip up and do something awkward or unacceptable every other second.

To celebrate a "successful first day" on campus (so far as no one broke down and started blubbering about wanting to go home), the RAs have decided to take the entire floor to the campus dining hall for a "family dinner" before going to the Freshmen Welcome Acapella Concert.

Around them, their floormates are taking shameless advantage of the all-you-can-eat buffet and the copious amount of dessert choices (after all, it's not like their parents are here to scold them for having dessert before dinner).

Mulan is regaling Ariel with the tale of Rapunzel's Premed Misadventures. Rapunzel has moved on from burying her tomato face in her hands in mock distress and is now teasingly flicking wadded napkins at them.

"You guys are terrible friends," she deadpans as Mulan recounts their encounter with the grumpy janitor and Ariel snickers. "I guess I'm not letting you share my stash of chrysanthemum tea after all."

"Hey, girls," a new voice cuts in from behind. "Mind if we join?"

"Snow! Rose!" Ariel exclaims, scooting over to make room.

Rapunzel notices that both of them are wearing sweatpants and tank tops. Rose still has curlers in her hair. "Uh, did you guys just wake up?"

Snow yawns. "We kind of slept in and missed pretty much everything," she admits sheepishly.

"There was construction going on outside our window all night," Rose defends. "We barely slept last night, and we figured we might as well catch up on sleep before classes start for real. You guys probably had a way more interesting day than ours."

Mulan shrugs. "Not really. Orientation's been a total rip-off so far. If anything, Disney's just having us move in two days early so we can get used to living away from home. I hear most of the people on our floor are seriously considering just not going to any of the programs they have scheduled for tomorrow—"

"I'd join them," Rapunzel adds, "but my mother would kill me if she found out."

From there, the conversation turns to the upcoming acapella concert, and Rapunzel loses interest.

She doesn't think to check her phone until the concert is over and she's retired to her room for the night.

57 missed calls, all from Mother's number.

She stabs the green call button in a panic, her mind flashing through all the things that could have gone horribly wrong for Mother to try to reach her so many times. Has the house burned down? Did she get into a horrible accident? What if Mother has collapsed and needed to be rushed to the emergency room, and it's the hospital calling with terrible news?

Mother…isn't in the best state of health. Now that Rapunzel is in Epcot, who will take care of her? Working and raising a daughter as a single mom is difficult, and it shows in the gray hairs and the wrinkles that have creeped into their family photos over the years. In fact, one time, back when Rapunzel was writing her college application essays and not a day went by without some harsh disagreement between them, Mother was so stressed that she nearly fainted. Rapunzel still feels horribly guilty for the way she acted that day. She should have noticed that Mother was shaky and pale, yet she had stubbornly shot down her ideas as "stupid" like an ungrateful brat.

"Why are you fighting me? This essay could determine your future, and you're not even taking it seriously!"

"You're ruining my future!" After being forced to start over and re-write one particular essay five times, gratitude had been the last thing on Rapunzel's mind.

"You wanted this! You said you wanted to become a doctor—!"

"I. WAS. THREE."

"—and I warned you that it would be difficult, that it would take a lot of sacrifice—!"

"I WAS ONLY THREE! I could have been just as serious about wanting to be Superman! You're the one who's pushing me into this!"

"I'm only trying to help you!"

"It's my life, so I get to make my choices," Rapunzel had finally burst out. "You don't work for the college. You don't know what I need, so why don't you just butt out?"

The fact that Mother did not instantly snap, "It's my business because I'm paying for it," should have tipped Rapunzel off, but it wasn't until the older woman started swaying on her feet that she realized something was wrong. Mother usually only got this bad in the early morning, or after exerting herself too much.

Fortunately, she was able to sit heavily on the couch, and after a few cups of chrysanthemum tea, Mother started to feel better. Rapunzel has kept the phone number of the nearest hospital taped to the fridge ever since…

"Rapunzel?"

Tears of relief spring to her eyes as Mother's voice on the phone breaks her reverie.

"Oh, Mother! Are you okay? I'm so sorry I missed your calls…"

She sounds fine. Not faint. Not like she's been coughing. In fact, Mother has never sounded better. Younger. More energized. It's like the past 18 years have melted away, now that the greatest source of stress in her life is no longer sapping away at her strength 24/7.

"Whatcha doing?"

It's Day 2 of orientation, and Rapunzel has decided to skip any talks that are going on today because she really doesn't want a repeat of yesterday's premed debacle. Unfortunately, she's just realized, now that she has unpacked and settled into her (temporary) new home and no longer has Mother constantly hounding her to study for the SAT or AP tests, and classes haven't started yet, she has a ton of free time on her hands and nothing to do with it.

She's already finished all three books that she brought with her to college to read for pleasure, and she's considering breaking out her paints when she notices that her roommate has been hunched over her laptop ever since they returned from breakfast…about three hours ago.

Mulan swivels around in her desk chair. "Oh, hey, Rapunzel. I was just Facebook messaging some old high school friends."

"Facebook?"

"Yeah, you know? The social media site where you stalk and 'friend' and 'poke' people?" Noticing Rapunzel's blank expression, she sighs. "It's how a lot of kids used to waste time and procrastinate. Nowadays, it's mostly for old people who want to yell about politics, but I'm using it to keep in touch with my friends from high school."

A ping signals a notification. "Maximus Welker has accepted your friend request. Write on Maximus's timeline…"

"What's a timeline?" Rapunzel asks, hoping it's not too stupid a question.

Mulan doesn't seem to mind. "It's a page where you can display your information and all your posts. See? All my photos are here, and here's a list of pages I like, and here's some basic information about me, and here's a list of people I'm friends with…"

"How do you have over four hundred friends?"

Back home, Rapunzel had a grand total of zero friends, being homeschooled and all—though she considers the other kids who volunteered at the nursing home to be…casual acquaintances. They called her "Homie," which they claimed was slang for "close friend," but she's pretty sure they meant "homeschooler," with all its stereotypical connotations. (Corona has a really good public schooling system, so the immediate general attitude toward homeschooled kids equates them with oddballs.)

Mulan waves her hand dismissively. "Most of them aren't really my friends, just people I know by name at school or people I've talked to once or twice and agreed to keep in touch with."

Three more notifications pop up.

"Ariel Triton wants to be friends on Facebook."

"Aladdin Cassin has accepted your friend request."

"Aurora Rose Stephan poked you."

"What's a poke?"

That earns a shrugs. "It's entirely pointless, and actually kind of annoying. I haven't had any poke wars in ages. Maybe Rose slept through the past five years, Rip Van Winkle-style, and didn't get the memo." Mulan accepts Ariel's friend request and moves to minimize her browser window. "You ready to go to lunch? The activities fair's supposed to open in an hour."

It's hard not to feel overwhelmed when the activities fair is this huge. The entire quad has been transformed, lined on all sides with folding tables and hastily put-together poster boards advertising the various student groups Disney offers, from aikido club to the Zimbabwean Students Association.

Extracurriculars are important. Rapunzel knows this. To get into Disney, she volunteered at the Corona Woods Nursing Home every weekend and occasionally helped do housekeeping at Mother's research lab. But if she wants to get into a good medical school, she needs to show that she's engaged with the local community and committed to helping people. She also needs to join clubs that she can stick with long-term. Long-term commitments are more impressive than hopping from club to club to fluff out a résumé without contributing anything of substance. Ideally, whatever club she joins should also be a meaningful experience that she can (hopefully) write about in her application essays. Oh, and of course, she also needs to add a club that's just for fun, to show med schools that she has a personality beyond school and work. Maybe she'll even find a club that does both, like an art club that sells their creations and donates to charity or something.

And, hey, if Disney doesn't have one of those, then maybe she can start one and get points in the leadership department. Provided, of course, she gets over her aversion to dealing with the bureaucracy that will no doubt accompany the process of starting a club. That, and her crippling fear of socialization, which will no doubt be required if she actually wants people to join said club.

Muttering half-hearted apologies as she squeezes through the throngs of freshmen everywhere, Rapunzel wanders past a row of fraternities and sororities (which Mother had warned her to avoid like the plague) before pausing in front of a booth for a chess club. Their poster is covered with paper cutouts of rubber duckies, and it takes a moment for her to realize that it's a play on the fact that the club is called the Disney University Chess Knights (DUCK for short).

The upperclassman manning the booth looks thoroughly bored as hands her a flyer and waves her on.

"Hey!" Someone bumps into her from behind.

"Oh, hi, Mulan!" Rapunzel raises her voice over the general din of conversation on the quad. "See anything interesting yet?"

"No," she shouts back. "The crowd is ridiculous! You want to browse along the perimeter until people start clearing out?"

It's as good a plan as any, so they gingerly step around the silverware collectors (a club whose name sounds like it actively encourages utensil theft from the dining hall) and turn down offers of flyers from Parcheesi Club and Cloud Watchers. Rapunzel can't believe there are people who don't find these things fatally boring—and she's the one who grew up read SAT prep books and CliffsNotes!

"Hey, you!" A gravelly voice jerks her out of her musings.

They whirl around to see one of the young men at the Chinese Cultural Club table waving his arms in the air, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a tantrum-throwing gorilla. "Over here, bro," he calls in their general direction.

Rapunzel's confusion mirrors her roommate's. She could have sworn the guy was talking to Mulan, but the last time she checked, people don't address girls as "bro."

They glance around behind them, but he shouts again, "Yes, you! I'm talking to you, next to that short blonde girl! Come over here, bro! You want me to shout it in Chinese, too?"

"He thinks I'm a guy?" Mulan's self-consciously tugs at the ends of her black hair—somewhere between shoulder-length and chin-length. "It used to be down to my waist, but I cut it off in a moment of rebellion," she explains quickly. "I didn't think it was that short!"

"It might be more the camo pants and hoodie than the hair," Rapunzel suggests. "Come on, let's go see what he wants before he calls you 'bro' a third time."

As they approach the table, one of the other guys—a tall, scrawny beanpole—leaps up from his seat and smacks Gorilla upside the head. "That's a chick, you idiot!"

Gorilla's eyes widen, and Rapunzel has to bite her cheeks to keep from giggling at the horrified look on his face.

"Holy crap, you're right! My god, this is awkward—" He clears his throat and says hastily to Mulan, "Sorry about that! Clearly, we don't get too many girls interested in joining our club—"

"Don't you know how to sell your own product?" Beanpole shakes his head in mock disgust. Plastering on a painfully artificial grin, he extends a hand for Mulan to shake. "Hi, I'm Ling, treasurer of the Chinese Cultural Club." He gestures at the third member of their party, a stocky guy who dwarfs his two friends in height. "This is Chien-Po—"

"Pleased to meet you ladies."

"—and this bumbling idiot here is—"

"Hey!"

"Well, you are! How can anyone be that dumb? How did you even get into Disney?"

"That's it! I'm gonna hit you so hard, it'll make your ancestors dizzy!" With that, Gorilla bunches the front of Ling's shirt into one fist and rears back the other.

Casting an apologetic glance at Mulan and Rapunzel, Chien-Po intervenes, gently pinning Gorilla-Guy's arms to his sides and—their jaws drop—lifting him clear off the ground. "Yao, take a deep breath and relax!" He proceeds to drawl, cheerfully ignoring the fact that his detainee's face has turned purple with rage, "Breathe in through your nose…Count to four…Now hold for seven…And breathe out slowly…Count to eight…"

"So!" Ling turns his attention back to Mulan and Rapunzel, attempting to straighten his collar. "You should think about joining the CCC! It'll be loads of fun—we have Chinese food at all our meetings, and you don't have to be Chinese to join!" (This is clearly directed at Rapunzel.) "And if we get enough new members this year, Shang might even be able to override Chi Fu and let us have a dumpling-making workshop!"

"Shang? Chi Fu?" There's no one else at their booth.

"Chi Fu's our club faculty advisor," Ling supplies. "He's a fun-hating idiot but harmless enough. And Shang's the student president of the club." Here, his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "He says if we don't get more girls to join the club, the Disney Feminist Alliance—" he cocks his head in the direction of a booth directly across the quad "—will complain to the school that Chi Fu's scaring off all our female club members. I mean, yeah, he's a dick, and we personally wouldn't mind getting rid of him, but the club needs a faculty advisor, and they'll shut us down if he goes. Shang says he'll have to resort to his secret weapon if we don't recruit some girls soon."

Mulan raises an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"His six-pack. He's going to let the girls touch his six-pack."

Rapunzel doesn't miss the faint dusting of Mulan's cheeks as she snatches a flyer and mutters, "I'll think about it," before dragging her away from the table, back into the masses of club-hunting freshmen.

"Mulan, wait!" Rapunzel gasps, trying desperately not to lose her roommate in the crowd. "What's a six-pack? He's not going to get girls drunk and then coerce them into signing a contract to join the club, is he?"

"A six-pack," Mulan states flatly, not breaking stride, "is another name for well-defined abdominal muscles in the configuration of a six-pack of canned drinks."

"What's so bad about—oh."

That kind of six-pack.

"I think I'm going to join, though," Mulan continues. "Those guys seem like they'd be fun to hang around. And since I rejected my parents' plans to marry me off like a good little traditional Chinese daughter, I can sort of make it up to them by not entirely rejecting my…Chinese-ness."

"For the love of apples!"

The convocation ceremony is starting in fifteen minutes, and everything is going wrong.

Well…not everything everything. For starters, everyone is dressed nicely and ready to leave. No one's pants have split. No one is injured. Everyone is on time.

But they are running late. It's just not their fault.

The entire 6th floor—both east and west wings, including the RAs—is gathered around the elevators. The numbers above the elevators indicate that they are still bouncing between the lower floors, as they have been for the past ten minutes.

"Wait, wait, wait! I think this is it!" someone exclaims.

Everyone holds their breath as one elevator rises from 1 to 2…from 2 to 3…from 3 to 4…from 4 to 5…

"Aww…" It's going back down to 4.

"Seriously?" Max groans, jabbing the down button again. "Have people on the second floor ever heard of stairs? At this rate, we won't get to convocation until next week!"

"We may have to take the stairs and then run across campus," Tiana muses. "If the elevators are stopping on every other floor, we might even beat them down there."

But just as they start down the hallway for the stairwell, there's a thunderclap out of nowhere, and suddenly it's pouring outside.

Tiana laughs nervously to Max. "Maybe they'll postpone the ceremony?"

"Nope. We're late. Everyone else is already there. We'll just have to get our umbrellas."

Mulan nudges Rapunzel as they start shuffling down the stairs, pushing past some of their floormates who are turning back to retrieve their umbrellas. "Think they'll let us get away with wearing rain boots under our dresses?"

"Doubtful."

It's not an impractical idea, though. The only "dressy" shoes that Rapunzel brought to college with her are a pair of platform wedge sandals. A far less practical choice of footwear for running across campus than Mulan's flats. She makes a mental note to ask the RAs if there's a shopping mall or something nearby, where she can find some more sensible shoes.

As they gather in the doorway, a number of their floormates unfurl their umbrellas. Two of the guys notice Mulan and Rapunzel hovering nearby and wave them over. "You can walk under this one with us," one offers.

And just like that, they slowly pick their way through the puddles, careful not to splash their nice clothes as the downpour continues. Between dodging puddles and trying not to slip on the mud, Rapunzel even manages to make some small talk with their companions. The guy holding the umbrella is named Aladdin and came from Saudi Arabia, and the other guy introduces himself as David from Hawaii.

When Rapunzel mentions that she's from Corona, Aladdin comments, "Cool, my roommate's from Corona, too. Which part of Corona are you from?"

"The Woods. I was homeschooled, though, so I don't actually know anyone here."

"You know, there's a class Facebook page. I think they have a doc where people can add where they're from. Probably to help find people and make friends more easily."

Maybe she should look into this Facebook thing. Maybe Mulan can help her set one up. She'll just have to avoid mentioning it to Mother so she doesn't get an earful about not getting distracted from her studies.

The lecture hall is mostly filled up by the time they arrive. The stage has been set with a flag standing on either end. Rapunzel recognizes the insignias of the Walt Disney School of Arts and Sciences (WDAS for short) and the Pixar School of Engineering. The class banner boasting their graduation year hangs from the rafters between these two flags. Beneath the banner, there's a row of empty chairs lined across the stage with a podium in the center, emblazoned with the university's "Mickey Mouse ears" crest (which always reminded Rapunzel of a water molecule) and motto ("If you can dream it, you can do it").

Up ahead, faculty members are still ushering students into their seats and handing out programs. Having lost her friends in the crowded lobby, Rapunzel winds up seated amidst a bunch of strangers. Apparently, none of these people know the others, judging from the awkward silence enveloping them while the rest of the auditorium buzzes with conversation. With nothing better to do, she flips through her program book. It doesn't say much, just the names of the people who will be speaking tonight, along with the sheet music and lyrics to the university's song.

The house lights dim down moments later, and everyone quiets down. The band set up in the orchestra pit starts playing the Epcot national anthem, "Mickey Mouse Club March."

As the final chords of the song ring throughout the auditorium, a man in a royal blue robe ascends the steps to the stage and approaches the podium.

He wishes everyone a good evening to half-hearted applause. "I'm Bob Iger, president our esteemed institution, and it is my pleasure to be among the first to welcome you to one of the finest and most diverse universities in the world, and to your new life as a college student and a young adult." He goes on to talk about bridges and new horizons and opportunities or something, but Rapunzel's mind starts wandering as soon as she hears the words "young adult."

Technically, she's still going to be a minor for another month or so, but she knows President Iger is referring to the fact that they've "left the nest" and are on their own.

It's like they've all been dumped in the ocean, and their only options are to sink or swim. Or to cling to some rocks jutting out of a cliff…or to cling onto the hand extended by some luckier soul who managed to get to the rock before you. And once you two become friends, you can hold your free hand out to the poor soul flailing around nearby, so all three of you become friends. And so on, until you have an entire chain of friends, which can then latch onto another chain nearby, hanging off another rock, and then you have an entire network of people who care about you, and it won't matter that you used to be a friendless homeschooled freak who couldn't leave the house without embarrassing herself.

Just about every freshman arrives virtually friendless and desperate to make a good impression on people they're hoping will be their friends. Maybe that's why Rapunzel has always experienced so much anxiety in social situations—she's too stuck in her own head, too worried that others are judging her. Maybe it's time to give her classmates the benefit of the doubt. She's in college; she has a change of scenery; she's about to carve her own path without Mother constantly taking over for her. No one here knows about her socially-incompetent past (minus Mulan, her amazing roommate and liaison between the rock she lives under and the outside world), so there's nothing stopping her from coming out of her shell and being a better, bolder Rapunzel Gothel…

Maybe great minds really do think alike, because President Iger starts telling an anecdote:

"I remember when I was in your position. An anonymous freshman, just arrived at Walt Disney University. I remember on Day 1 of Move-In, my roommate and I were unpacking our stuff in awkward, nervous silence when one of our new neighbors came over and knocked on our door to say hi. We wound up joining her in knocking on our floormates' doors and greeting everybody, and I will forever be grateful for her bold, friendly personality. Because if my roommate and I hadn't met her, and we hadn't taken her up on her invitation to say hi to the rest of our dorm, I probably would have never gotten to know all the amazing people I spent my freshman year with. Some of these folks remain my closest friends today, including two friends who eventually got married." (A collective "aww…") "So come out of your shell—go out of your comfort zone a little. Explore what kind of person you are and what person you want to become. Thank you, and may you have an unforgettable four years with us at Walt Disney University." (A smattering of polite applause.) "And now, please sing along to our school song, 'When You Wish Upon a Star.'"

After the song, men and women dressed in similar robes ascend to the stage and sit down in the row of chairs. They must be the board members.

One of the men approaches the podium. He introduces himself as Dr. Ed Catmull, dean of the School of Arts and Sciences, before launching into a welcome speech similar to President Iger's, all about coming out of one's comfort zone, and not missing out on meeting some amazing people. "Now is the time to meet as many new people as you can, expand your worldview, experience some new cultures on our diverse campus. So when you walk into the very first lecture class of your college years, make an effort to know your classmates around you. You may find that the funny-looking individual sitting three rows behind you could very well become your new best friend…or even your future spouse."

("Why is everybody suddenly talking about marriage?")

The exclamation comes from a couple of rows in front of Rapunzel. Several heads, including hers, swivel around to look for the source of the outburst. A girl with unruly ginger curls ducks her head and shrinks down in her seat.

Fortunately, her interjection wasn't loud enough for Dr. Catmull to catch because he keeps talking, so everyone nearby just snickers and brushes it off.

The red-haired girl does have a point, though. Rapunzel has never been to public high school, but based on the rants she overheard from the local teens who volunteered with her at the Corona Woods Nursing Home, she's pretty sure they all get the same lecture she gets from Mother:

"You're too young to know what love is."
"High school relationships shouldn't be taken seriously."
"You still need time to mature."
"Teens who get married straight out of high school are out of their minds."

Yet the instant they get to college, people start encouraging them to look for their soulmates or risk being alone forever. What sense does that make? They're here in college, primarily, to learn—to practice living on their own, not to shop for a spouse. Mother would probably disown Rapunzel if she found a boyfriend because he would take up all her time. And she'd kill her if she dropped out of school to get married.

Not that it matters. Boys wouldn't like her anyway. She's sloppy, perpetually underdressed, hopelessly clumsy, positively grubby, and either chubby or too skinny to be healthy, depending on Mother's mood. Rapunzel knows looks aren't everything, but she's also immature, gullible, naïve, and a total ditz. And boring. Guys would probably talk to girls about movies they've seen, or hobbies they have in common, right? What kind of guy would be interested in a girl who never reads anything but SAT prep books? A 1600 on the reasoning test, along with 800s on all her subject tests may look impressive to colleges, but boys aren't colleges.

Yep, she's going to be rocking the spinster lifestyle for a long time…

The next speaker introduces himself as Dr. Pete Doctor ("People do a double take all the time when I call myself 'Doctor Doctor,'" he quips), dean of the Pixar School of Engineering. He gives a few quick remarks that Rapunzel doesn't bother to pay attention to, since by now, all these speeches are starting to sound the same.

And then the band plays some kind of Epcot march, and the board members leave the stage, signaling the completion of convocation.

It's hard to tell if Mother's in a good or bad mood tonight. She listens as Rapunzel describes her day, with the occasional "that's sounds nice" or "uh-huh." But there's silence on the other end when she's done.

Finally, Mother sighs. "Rapunzel, it's late, and I'm feeling a little run-down…"

Oh! Okay, that's her cue to leave Mother alone, then. Rapunzel dutifully reminds her to drink her chrysanthemum tea again, and they exchange their customary I love you's. They're about to hang up when something suddenly occurs to her.

"Um, Mother?"

"Hmm?"

"Uh…so…I was wondering if you had some…fashion advice for me?"

"This isn't about some boy, is it?"

"No, I just—"

"Because you know how men are, sweetheart." Mother's voice takes on the singsong lilt she always adopts whenever she's about to impart her pearls of wisdom. "Vicious dogs that will rip you to shreds the moment you give them a chance!"

"I know, Mother. It's just, I've been wearing jeans with a T-shirt and sneakers, but I thought it was a little too kiddie, so I was thinking about wearing leggings with a tank top tomorrow—"

"What colors?"

"Um…brown and black?"

"Rapunzel!"

Uh-oh. She pulls the phone away from her ear just as the shrieking starts.

Okay, but how was she supposed to know brown and black are a no-no? They always work well together, along with muted greens, in her forest paintings! And she's always worn pastel dresses around the house, and jeans and a T-shirt when she used to volunteer at the nursing home or at the lab. Sheesh, she was only trying to fit in at college!

Mother's sighing now. "Honestly, Rapunzel! How are you going to become a doctor if you're too incompetent to even dress yourself? Just go with jeans and the tank top. Blue jeans go with just about everything. Better yet, wear a dress. I paid for them all, you know."

Click.

"I just can't do anything right anymore, can I?" Rapunzel asks to no one in particular.

End note (Sept 4, 2018): This was my least favorite chapter when I first wrote it, so it was a pain to revise 4 years later. I hope it's better now?

In case you were wondering, yes, the girl who yelled, "Why is everybody suddenly talking about marriage?" was Merida, for obvious reasons. I know we've been seeing a lot of other Disney characters, and Mulan's army friends had quite a lengthy cameo, but these are just cameos, and this is a Tangled fic, not a crossover. (It'll be clearer in later chapters.)

Also, there's no way to work the geography into the story without it feeling clunky, so I'll just say it here: Epcot City is 6 hours from Corona Woods, but they're in separate countries (Epcot and Corona). There are a lot of little countries, so it's kind of pointless lugging your passport around or getting a green card, so they're like the Schengen Area of the EU.