Advent
With a sigh, I put my old Saab into neutral and pull up the hand brake. Looming ahead and to my right is Blair Hall, the co-ed dorm at CUPC. Cars line the street, hazard lights flashing. Students and parents mill around, hefting boxes and television sets from their vehicles and heading up the stone stairs. As I watch the giant doors swallow them, I gather my courage and reach for an energy drink from the cooler behind the passenger seat. The drive from Oregon exhausted me, and the day is only beginning.
Bag on shoulder, I lock the car and head up the steep stairs. Three masses of people, which I suppose pass as lines, stretch ahead of me, ending in long tables stacked with papers. There are signs above each table; the one on the far left reads "A-H," the one in the center, "I-P," and the one on the right says "Q-Z." I join the center line and pull out my phone; it's probably considered rude but it's the only thing I can think to do in a room full of strangers.
"Hey, dude, it looks like I'm in the 'I pee' line!" I turn to see a raven-haired boy shouting across to a redhead in the line to our left. I try not to snicker at their juvenile joke, but fail and end up instead making eye contact with the boy. His blue eyes momentarily appraise me before he speaks.
"Hi, I'm Stan…and that's Kyle," he says, gesturing toward the redhead. Kyle waves and smiles; despite the distance I notice his bright green eyes. I wave back and smile, and turn again to Stan.
"Renata," I say, tongue almost tripping over the name, "but everybody calls me Ren." We shuffle up a few inches as the line creeps inward. I briefly consider going back to playing Cover Orange but keep talking instead. Stan must have had the same idea.
"Where are you from?" we ask each other at the same time. After letting out a small laugh, I tilt my head downwards and gesture with my hand; I've learned to listen first and talk later.
"I'm from right here in Park County—South Park. So is Kyle…and just about everyone else we know. Except you, now. I mean, we would know you if you were a local. So, where are you from, and why did you come…here?"
The words I rehearsed during the drive down here come out naturally. "Well, I'm most recently from Portland, Oregon, but I was born in Scotland and I lived in Alaska from the time I was 10 until I was 14." Whoa, I prepared way, too much information Shut up, Ren. "And the reason I chose to come here is…not an interesting story." I pause. "Will you let me get away with just saying that I needed a change of scenery?"
"Hey, we love it here—it's the best place on the planet! You chose the right change of scenery; the people here are great and there's a lot of fun stuff to do." He reminds me of a child on his birthday. I can't help but smile wider. A pensive look passes over his face so quickly I think I have imagined it. He continues, almost imperceptibly quieter, just a bit less enthusiastic than moments ago. "Really, we were so glad that they opened a college here so that we could all still be together instead of scattered across the country."
I did just a little bit of homework before choosing UCPC. The school had been open for four years, and because of the introduction of a local college, high school graduation was steadily increasing in surrounding towns. The county opened the university for two reasons: to provide the local kids with an alternative to moving away for college, and to bring students (and therefore money) into the county.
I decide that I like Stan's voice, I like hearing him talk. I press for more. "Why are you guys living in the dorms, if you're local? I mean…" his laugh cuts me off.
"Trust me, it was just time for all of us to move out on our own."
"All of us?" I wonder, but never get a chance to ask. I look up and see that the table is right in front of me, and the balding man sitting behind it is impatiently droning, "Next."
"Hi, I'm Renata Kinloch. I need my room keys?"
"Got it. Okay, Renee, room 378. Your roommate's already checked in." I roll my eyes at his slaughter of my name and step aside, heading outside toward the daunting task of unloading my car.
"Hey," I hear Stan call out as I'm approaching the door. I look up and see him standing next to Kyle, who shouts, "We'll see you later?" I nod yes and wave behind me as I head out the big doors. I can't contain my smile so I look at the ground, letting my long hair fall around my face.
-XXX-
The bulky key turns easily in the lock for room 378, and I kick the door open with my left foot. I see no sign of my actual roommate, but the bed on the left is covered in luggage and boxes and a glittery pink train case with "Lexus" spelled out on the lid in Swarovski crystals. I throw my stuff on the bed to the right and walk over to the tiny mirror that sits above a little microwave on a cart. The reflection is still unfamiliar. Will I ever get used to it? I decide to accept what I see and try to notice things that I like, rather than try to see something that is no longer there. My dark blue- green eyes really stand out next to my new flame-red hair, which falls around my shoulders and loosely curls down my back. It's still kind of a shock to see that I'm not blonde anymore, that my nose is shorter and my jaw wider…but that was the whole point.
I decide to change out of my now-disgusting "road trip" clothes. I open one of my backpacks and pull out a denim skirt and a t-shirt that says "Hell's Belles" on it. Remembering that I left the door slightly ajar, I turn back to close it and almost jump out of my skin. A boy with baby-blonde hair and periwinkle eyes is standing in my doorway.
"H-hey," he stutters, looking down as he nervously wrings his hands. "I-I don't mean to bother you, but your door was open, and I can't find the RA's room!" He sounds desperate and, well, lost, and the whole scene kind of breaks my heart.
"Um, well the directory they gave me says the RA is in room 310, so I guess it's all the way down at the other end of the hall," I say as I walk over to him. For some reason, he is wearing a "Hello, my name is…" sticker on his blue polo shirt. "Butters?" Oops, that came out almost sarcastically.
"Th-that's me!" I'm a bit taken aback at his simple joy, but I respond. "I'm Renata, but…" Before I can get the rest of the sentence out, he interrupts me. "Hi, Renata, nice to meet you! You sure are pretty! Thanks, now!" Wow, he got my name right. I think my mouth is still hanging open in surprise as he skips down the hallway, singing "I'm going to see the RA, I'm going to see the RA…" Strange, but cute. I decide that this is the perfect "small-town" occurrence, and hope that I have made a friend.
Still smiling about the adorable Butters, I remember that I am supposed to join the rest of the residents in the Grand Lounge at 3:00 for orientation, so I finish changing, brush my hair, and bolt out the door…late as usual. I run smack-dab into Kyle, who is standing outside the door next to mine, playing with his phone.
"Sorry, I just….wait, are we neighbors?" I ask.
"Stan and I are in 376. Cool! Hey, Stan, the new girl is our neighbor," he shouts toward the door, which is halfway open. Through it, I can see that one bed is a mess of clothing and Wii games. Stan is rooting through the stuff, softly cursing.
"Sorry, Ren, Stan can't find his phone so I'm trying to call it repeatedly. I think the battery died, though."
"Oh, I'll help look…if it's okay?" I take a closer look at Kyle's green eyes, bright emeralds compared to mine. His red hair is lighter, more natural than mine, but like me, he has no freckles. He is tall, and not just because I am only a tiny 5'2". I peg him at 6'2", give or take half an inch. I let myself move slightly closer, and Kyle flicks his eyes toward me, conveying a strangely unreadable emotion. I jump with a start when Stan sticks his head out the door.
"Found it, it was in my running shoe."
"Let's go then, dude, come on."
"Wanna race?" I challenge them, and without waiting, begin to run to the staircase at the end of the hallway. I hear their footsteps seconds behind me, but when I reach the stairs and vault over the handrail down to the second floor, landing in a I know I have them beat.
"What the hell…? That kicks ass! You have to teach me how to do that!"
"Someday, maybe," I tease. "Come on, guys, we can't miss 'Get to Know You Games,' now can we?"
-XXX-
Down in the Grand Lounge, we are instructed to take a "Hello, My Name Is…" sticker and place it on our shirts. So that's where the Butters kid got a name tag. I write "Renata (Ren)" on my sticker, place it on the left hem of my t-shirt, and sit down next to Kyle and Stan.
"Everybody listen up, m'kay? See the row you are sitting in, I want you to form a circle with your row right now because that will be your first group for our Get to Know You Games, m'kay?"
Stan does a facepalm and moans, "Why the hell did Mackey have to leave South Park Elementary and come to work here? It's like he is trying to torture us!" Our row starts to stand awkwardly, nobody wanting to be the first person to actually move their chair. We finally form something like an ellipse and sit down again.
I look around my circle and see that besides Stan and Kyle, there is a dark-haired girl with a purple beret, a chunky boy with dishwater brown hair and blue eyes, a curvy girl with a huge mass of curly blonde hair, a nondescript boy with dark brown hair and a name tag that says "Clyde," and an African-American boy who is wearing head-to-toe Armani Exchange.
"This is crap. You guys, I am so pissed off right now. I mean, where are the Cheesy Poofs?" the chunky guy, whose name tag reads Eric Cartman, whines.
"Shut up, Cartman. You can go for five minutes without food!" This from Kyle.
"I came for the Cheesy Poofs, god damn it. Fucking Jew."
"Cartman, you don't even live here! You live at home with your mommy! Go eat her fucking Cheesy Poofs, fat bastard!" Kyle's very real anger at the larger boy is too much for me; I fail at holding in my laughter.
"What the hell are you laughing at, skinny bitch?" Wow, very original, fat boy. I laugh harder and reach for Kyle, who squeezes my shoulder and laughs with me. We are nearly falling off the chairs when we are interrupted by the sedated-sounding voice of Mr. Mackey.
"M'kay, we are passing around a list of get-to-know-you questions. You get to choose one question and one person in your circle, and ask them that question. You cannot use questions twice within the circle, and nobody can be put on the spot more than twice in a row. If you just…"
He keeps talking, but we aren't listening. Kyle and I are still trying to contain aftershocks of giggles, Stan is talking to Wendy about an Amnesty International meeting, and Cartman is trying to convince Clyde to go get him Snacky Cakes from the vending machine. I look at the purple sheet of paper that is shoved in my direction.
"Oh my God, Kyle…does this really say 'What is your favorite color?'" For some reason we find this hilarious, and dissolve into laughter again. As we get louder, Stan and Wendy turn and give us looks of warning.
"FUUUUCK!" Mr. Mackey shouts. He is now standing on a tabletop in the center of the room. Everyone goes silent.
"M'kay, kids, remember that we are hosting a dance party tonight in the gymnasium. We have a real DJ, m'kay, and it's a great way to meet the people you will be living with for the next year, m'kay?"
"Okay, that was weird," Stan whispers. Students start to get up and move, escaping the forced camaraderie.
"Are you guys going to this dance party?" I ask nobody in particular, putting "dance party" in air quotes. Everyone answers in the affirmative, except Cartman, who still seems preoccupied with the free snacks that were promised us.
"God damn it! There'd better be food at this stupid dance!" He looks from me, to Stan, and finally to Kyle, before announcing to no one in particular, "Screw you guys, I'm going home."