The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(6)

Unable to speak and, therefore, at a loss for some much needed sarcasm, I simply nod my response. She offers me a genuine smile full of relief, and after another reassuring squeeze, Linda disappears through the doorway, leaving me on my own and sealing me in with Princess Fi-Fi.
Quinn. Her name is Quinn.
I lock that little tidbit of information securely into my memory bank before heading to my bed. Something tells me that my nickname, while I find it extremely entertaining, wouldn’t yield the same positive response from my new roomie.
Inhaling deeply, I collect my emotions and begin to sift through the items strewn on my bed. I hear the click of the bathroom door opening as Quinn makes a reappearance with a bashful look in her eyes.
“Sorry for disappearing,” she states as she slowly approaches. “It just seemed like you two were sharing a moment. I didn’t want to intrude.” She shrugs her shoulders and casts her glance down to my bed where her eyes land on my Poe Hello poster.
“OH! I love Poe! I saw her in concert recently with Teagan and Sara! She is AMAAAAAAAZING!” she squeals as she claps her hands together excitedly, her pony tail swinging back and forth as she resumes bouncing off the floor. After a few more small jumps, she gains actual air as she launches herself onto my bed and begins rummaging through the remainder of my wall art.
I just stand there, not really sure what to do with myself.
Segregating myself from the population has obviously left me ill-equipped to deal with some random person who has deemed it acceptable to lie on my bed and touch my possessions after only the mere exchange of our names. I watch her for a minute or so, listening to her oohs and aahs, waiting patiently for her to kindly get off my bed, but when thirty more seconds tick by I see that this really isn’t an option for her at the moment. She’s lost in my excellent taste of music.
It happens.
Bending at the waist, I unzip the front pocket on my backpack and pull out the heavy-duty double-sided tape, mentally selecting the locations for poster placement on the wall, when she finally decides to come up for air. She rolls onto her side and assesses me a moment before speaking.
“So Raven, what’s up with the kitty eyes?” she inquires.
Shifting my weight onto my other foot, I stall for a bit before answering. “Um, I guess you could say I’m different. Why? Does that bother you?” My tone is clipped, suddenly saddened that my initial perception of this girl may have been totally off-base.
She throws her head back in laughter and after a couple of completely unnecessary hiccups, she brings her green eyes back to meet mine. “No, it doesn’t bother me in the least. I think it’s kinda cool that you are who you are, with no worries about what people think.”
Her eyebrows draw together and her mouth curves toward the floor as she continues. “I learned a long time ago to never judge a book by its cover. It seems what people try to represent on the outside very rarely mirrors their inside. Beautiful people tend to be ugly, ugly people tend to be beautiful, storms tend to brew below a person’s cool, calm exterior, and tremendously happy people tend to be overcompensating for their own grief. Nothing is ever really what it seems.”
She raises her gaze, once again, taking in my appearance. “Except with you, I think your representation is probably pretty accurate. And I think that’s brave.”
I almost, almost, laugh in her face. Like, deep from within the pit of my stomach, very unattractive, heinous laughter because I know I’m anything but brave. The whole appearance that she’s so freaking fond of is the result of fear.
The irony is not lost on me.
I choose to keep my blank expression as I shrug my shoulders. “You seem pretty happy,” I remark.
Her eyes still locked onto mine, she simply responds, “Exactly.”
The seconds pass between us as I try to figure out the exact meaning of that statement, when there’s a sudden knock at the door. A wide grin spreads across her face and her eyes light up with unadulterated glee. “YAY! Our first official visitor!”
Quinn excitedly bounces herself off the bed to answer the door and I take the opportunity to once again regain control of my private realm as I step onto the bare mattress, dispensing a piece of tape while grabbing my favorite poster. A deep, masculine voice comes from the doorway, so I keep my attention solely on the task at hand, not wanting to intrude in case it’s her boyfriend. Using the adhesive, I tack a piece to the left top corner of the poster and adhere it to the wall at the head of my bed, making sure my back is turned to Quinn and her male visitor.
Just as I extend my arm to attach the poster, Quinn calls, “Raven! You have to meet my Boarding Buddy!”
Great.
Boarding Buddy.
The whole reason I skipped Freshman Orientation. Who needs to be paired up with some random person just to find your way around campus?
I can do that shit alone, as I intend to.
I abort my mission of avoidance, casually turning my head just barely over my shoulder, but as soon as I see the person to whom she’s referring, I lose the hold on my poster. The scraping sound it makes as it swings back and forth along the wall hardly registers due to my dumbfounded state of shock. Without pause, the blood drains from my face and my legs feel as though they’ve been carted through a tub of cement before being reattached to my body.
I pray that these reactions comprise the typical response for when you see the one person in your life that you never, ever expected to see again. Because if that’s not the case, I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack and will be struck dead where I stand within approximately 2.5 seconds.