Pete had abandoned Myka at the mere suggestion from Steve that they check out the 19th Century Literature Book Club. She had intended to follow, but he maneuvered through the crowd so quickly that she lost him.

Myka had balked at Steve's suggestion because, first off, that was an awful name for an organization. Descriptive, sure. But, in actuality, it was just long and boring. Also, when she read, it was for herself, she didn't want to share it. She would go searching online for other people's opinions - usually articles, peer reviews, even sometimes (god forbid), Amazon. But she didn't actually want to have to talk about her opinions. They were private. No amount of whining, however, was going to convince Steve.

"The meeting's downstairs in like five minutes. It literally could not be any easier to go."

Myka crinkled her nose in protest, "Steve, I don't even really like books."

"You're lying."

"What? I… what? No I'm not."

Silence.

"How could you tell?"

"Because I'm a human lie-detector."

"Oh, that's… useful… wait, really? Is that a real thing?"

Steve ignored her question. "But mostly, it's because I carried your books into your dorm room. I suggest that if you don't like reading you stop carrying around such huge volumes. Especially multiple copies of the same book."

Myka's brain told her to be quiet if she ever had the hope of getting out of this, but the words flew out of her mouth before she could really think about it. "They're different translations!"

And at that, he grabbed her wrist and made his way toward the stairs while she went into a detailed explanation of why she intended to read Anna Karenina in Russian because she had yet to find an English translation that did anything for her.

The meeting had already begun and the circle of about ten or so students all turned their heads when Myka kicked the garbage can that was stupidly placed right in front of the doorway.

She looked down, color rushing to her chest, and muttered "Sorry," while Steve pulled two chairs for them from the wall and everyone made room in the circle. Myka kept her eyes cast down, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin in the palm of her hands.

The room was thick with silence and it seemed that everyone was doing their own version of "I don't actually want to be here."

The faculty advisor, a man who's clothing and unkempt hair (and those eyebrows!) made him look like he had wandered in here on accident, barely gave a passing glance to Myka and continued on. "Where were we?"

"I do believe it's my turn."

Myka's ears perked up. Who was British? She raised her eyes toward the voice and it all came together. Of course. Of course Helena, the seemingly perfect-looking girl had to have the seemingly perfect-sounding accent. And when Myka actually looked at her (because she hadn't seen much other than her face before), she noticed that she also had the seemingly perfect attire and attitude of "I didn't actually try this morning, but don't I look fabulous?"

She hadn't yet met the girl, officially, but everything about her just seemed… right. Myka wasn't sure why this made her seethe, but it did.

Helena uncrossed her legs, her slim, toned legs, of course, Myka thought, and continued.

"Well, let's see, alright… My name's Helena and everybody likes me."

Everyone in the room looked back at her agog. Now Myka was truly seething and she sat up tall. "Everybody LIKES you? Who says that?!" she thought to herself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we were supposed to say something that isn't obvious? Well then that won't do. Obviously I'm completely lovable." Helena rolled her eyes and threw a genuine laugh to the room, which immediately lightened the air. Her self-aggrandizing joke seemed to put everyone in the circle at ease. Except for Myka. She couldn't understand why even Steve was chuckling with Helena. Who did this girl think she was?

"But actually, I'm Helena and I'm a cognitive science major. Oh, and I haven't met my roommate yet, so if anyone else does, tell her the thing about me being lovable? I am actually horrid to live with, but if strangers keep telling her I'm fantastic, maybe I'll win her over."

And with that, Helena leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and owned the room.

Myka was almost certain she saw Helena dart her eyes toward her, but she wasn't going to dignify her with a response.

She had been thinking so intently about all of the things that she wanted to tell Steve about Helena after the meeting that, when the circle got to her, Myka had nothing to say.

"Uh… hi… I'm Myka and… I'm her roommate, so… don't worry about telling me she's fantastic… cause I heard it myself… Ha!" Myka tried to land her "joke" as Helena had, but was about as far from successful as possible. Even her laugh had come out more like a bray.

In response to Myka's attempt, most people either squirmed in their chairs or looked away. Steve threw her a chuckle out of pity, but a pity laugh is obvious to everyone. Even Professor Nielson (who has introduced himself and said the thing that nobody knew about him was that he made the best oatmeal scotchie this side of the Mississippi) grimaced and shook his head. Myka began to try to backpedal, crossing her arms and starting over. "Uh, uh… but I actually, um…" Further silence followed while Myka sat with her mouth open trying to find words. Any words.

And then, Helena picked up right where she left off, standing and thrusting her hand across the circle.

"Well, it certainly is a pleasure to meet you Myka. And I apologize in advance. Do forgive me."

Myka, still with her mouth open, took Helena's hand; her soft, but strong, delicate, but sturdy, hand. And she shook it meekly.

"Right…"

Helena gave Myka a sincere smile as she sat back down.

Steve introduced himself to try to get the attention away from Myka and she slumped in her chair, casting her eyes back down and checking her phone for the time. Please, PLEASE let this fresh hell be over soon.

"OH MY GOD, MYKES."

"Shut up! It was fine! I was fine! … Just shut up!"

Myka punched Pete in the shoulder as he threw popcorn at her.

"Did you just lose your mind?!"

"I don't know, Pete, just let it go!" Myka's voice was doing that thing that it does when she gets worked up. It was tightening and going up in pitch and volume and she was struggling to keep a hold of herself.

"And when she laughed? Oh my god, Pete, when she laughed at her own non-joke… I had to try so hard not to fall out of my chair." Steve was doubled over in hysterics, enjoying her pain far too much.

"Well, whatever, Steve!" Her voice was just a squeal now. "Come on, what the hell was her problem, though?!" Myka sat on the couch in her most formal posture, screwing her face up to look like the Dowager Countess, and putting on the most horrendous British accent the boys had ever heard. "'I'm Helena, and everbody likes me, and I'm a terrible roommate, isn't that hilarious? Look how FANTASTIC I am!'" And she broke down into hysterics, braying like a donkey just as before, which sent both of the boys even farther down the well.

Someone knocked on the door of their dorm room and Pete jumped over the couch to open it, taking deep breaths to gain some control as he did. It hadn't much worked, when he opened it to see Helena, hands in pockets, looking as gleeful as they sounded. Pete had to do everything in his power not to guffaw in her face.

"Oh! Hello! I, well this is going to sound silly, but I honestly just heard all of your laughter and thought I'd come introduce myself. I thought it'd be rather nice to know who it is that's having all the fun. So… well." Helena looked past Pete's face when he didn't respond and started to go pale. He, like the others, was questioning how much of their conversation Helena had heard.

"Hello Steve. Hello Myka. Nice to see you again. So sorry that we haven't had any time in our room, Myka, but I've been out a lot since I got here. Getting acclimated…"

Steve and Myka stared back, not paying any attention and instead recounting what exactly had been said, who had said it, and how close someone would have to be to hear the actual words that were being said. By this point, the smile had slid off of Helena's face and was replaced with a look of sincere confusion… which had to mean that she hadn't heard anything.

But maybe she had.

"Hey." Pete regained his composure and filled the awkward silence. "Do you want to come in and join us? We're just talking about…" Other than Myka's complete meltdown and Helena, what were they talking about?

"We were just talking about orientation. And… stuff."

Myka just rolled her eyes and pulled her knees in tight to her chest on the couch. Nice cover, Pete.

"Oh no, that's all right, I'm just going to go back to the room and read for a while. But I'm sure I'll see you all soon. Good night."

Her tone was light and she didn't seem fazed by their strangeness, but still, Myka felt guilty about how judgmental she was being. Everyone was new, it wasn't just her. And, already, Myka had made two great friends, so to be jealous of this girl that she knew nothing about seemed kind of silly.

And yet, the jealousy remained.

Helena gave a quick wave, stuck her hand back in her pocket, and left them, all feeling slightly ashamed at their antics.

Myka stayed in Pete and Steve's dorm room a little while longer, but the glow of their joy had worn off pretty quickly after Helena left. By the time she was back in her room, Helena was asleep. The light was still on as she'd obviously fallen asleep reading, her book dangling from her hand over the edge of the bed. Myka appreciated that she wasn't the only one who still read physical books instead of just reading them on an iPad.

She let a smile cross her lips as she took the book out of Helena's hand and set it on her desk. American Gods by Neil Gaiman. Well. At least the girl had good taste. Unless she hated it. Myka could look past Helena's perfection, she could handle her being "horrid to live with," but if she didn't like Neil Gaiman, well. There was no turning back from that.

Myka tossed on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt and flipped off the lights before she climbed into her bed that they had lofted above her own desk. She heard Helena ever-so-delicately sigh as she flipped over in bed, having been awoken.

"Good night, Myka."

Even when half-asleep, Helena still sounded delightful.

"Good night, Helena."

This was going to be a long year.