ANA

A disgusting smell greets me as I step outside of the limo that escorted me to Cambridge. Father had insisted I drive my own car, the Maserati, but I won that battle by telling him he wouldn't want me to 'accidentally' damage it while I was away.
I'd prefer to walk around town anyways.

I would use my fingers to pinch my nose and block the smell out, but both my hands are occupied with carrying two of the trunks that I brought with me. I refused the assistance the driver offered when he saw how much there was to carry. He'd raised his brows and said something about how he wouldn't want me to break my back, but whatever. I hate it when people act as if I'm helpless. I may be small in stature and slight in bulk, but that doesn't mean I am a child.
As foul as the stench that can't be originating from very far away is, my mood is fouler yet. Father wasted no time in packing me off to Harvard, no time at all. And so here I stand, outside the big, intimidating building. It's quite grand, too, although I don't like to admit it.
But honestly, is that awful smell what they want to be the first impression one has upon arriving here? They really should fix it.

I stand still for a moment, as I take in what will be my home for the most of the rest of this year. Well, that is, if my father has his way. If I have my way, however, it will be a different story. I will be leaving before the month's end.

"Anabelle!"

If it is even possible for me to become more irritated, I do at the sound of that voice.

"Anabelle, it's so good to see you again," Roger purrs, in a tone like rich, liquid honey. He gives his charming smile that most girls would swoon over to me, revealing perfect, white teeth and causing his cheeks to dimple.

Here he is. Roger Sullivan, two years my senior, a major jerk, an extremely snotty but handsome and rich young man whose guts I hate.
Hopefully you get the point: he is not who I want to see at this moment.

But I've got to say, he's pretty good at this. Acting like he doesn't hate me and I don't hate him, as if we're old friends and not sworn childhood enemies. I wonder briefly if he's getting paid. But that thought doesn't last long, because when he nears me and kisses my cheek, I bristle and grit my teeth.

"Do not ever do that again," I snap at him. "And call me Ana, not Anabelle. You may pretend for our fathers, but I will not. I dislike you strongly, always will, and I won't fake otherwise."

His blue eyes light with amusement as he looks down on me. I hate our height difference. "I do not remember you being so fiery before, Anabelle." He smirks. I'm about to retort with something when suddenly, he neatly grabs my cases from me. "Allow me. Someone as little as you shouldn't have to haul these around."

My face starts to burn. Not out of embarrassment, but out of anger. Okay, maybe a tiny bit out of embarrassment. Apparently, Roger Sullivan still knows how to get under my skin. But two can play this game.

I put on a polite smile and straighten my polka dot blouse. "Thank you, Roger. That's very sweet of you. I'll just fetch the others so that you can carry those too."

He frowns at this. "Others?"

I walk to the back of the limo and pop the trunk to take out the other two suitcases. Some may travel lightly, but I do not. As of now I am glad about this little fact.
I take them out, then close the lid of the trunk and give it a few thuds with my hand to let the driver know he can leave. The limo drives away.
Carrying the cases back to Roger stands, I drop them at his feet. They are both bigger than the ones he already holds.

"Careful with them now," I tell him, as he picks them up and then struggles to hold all four in his arms. "There are fragile items in there and I don't want any of them damaged."

He may be quite a big man, well-built and at least over six foot, but he is still finding it difficult to hold such hefty travel bags. I smile, satisfied.

"Well then," I say, not quite giving him a chance to get settled with the load he must carry. His face is changing colour with effort. I could try to, but I don't feel sorry for him. He made his bed, and we both know that he is too stubborn and proud to do anything other than lie in it. "Lead the way."

Roger scowls at me and wobbles a little bit, before he finds enough balance to start walking. I can't help giggling at his unsteadiness and don't bother to even try and muffle it with my hand as I walk after him. "I see you're struggling a bit," I coo. "If it's too much effort you can leave them to me, Roger."

He merely grunts in response. I feel as if I'm the winner when he waits for me to catch up, until he bends down to whisper something into my ear.

"I like this new Anabelle, she's feisty. I think we'll be getting on very well," he murmurs to me, sending a bad kind of shiver down my back.

He walks on ahead, and I scowl at his back.

~ ~ ~

"And here is your dorm. I pulled some strings and managed to arrange for you to board right next to me." Roger flashes those sparkly teeth of his, his eyes taunting me.

I have a million savage words and insults I'd like to unleash right now, but that should wait until I'm not so tired that I can't think straight. I would want to have my head about me when I go about destroying him with my sharp-edged tongue, as mother used to call it.

So instead, I simply say, "You can go away now."

Roger feigns a disappointed expression. "So soon? We haven't even caught up yet. And there's so much to catch up on, my dear."

I would hurl at how wrong that term of endearment sounded coming from his mouth, if I didn't like my clothes so much. "Nope," I say, stressing the p. "I still loathe you. It was that way last time I checked and what have we here, nothing has changed." I turn to open my dorm's door, throwing over my shoulder as I go, "There! All caught up."

I'm not surprised when he simply leaves me be, after I've hauled my cases inside and closed the door. It's no secret between the two of us that we can't stand being around each other.

I can't wait to get in bed, but my OCD won't allow me to until after I've unpacked. Orientation is tomorrow and I want to be settled in.

I look around the room. There are two beds, neatly made up, one in the left corner of the room and the other in the right, dull beams of light entering the window between them. There's a door next to the bed on the left that leads to a little bathroom and a closet built into the wall situated near the bed on the right. A rather fluffy looking beige rug lies on the floor.

"Alright," I say to myself. "Even if I won't be here long enough to make it worth it, I guess I'll put my clothes away."

During the next few minutes in which I store away outfit after outfit into the closet, I glance once at the empty bed on the right. Father had said he'd get me a solitary dorm, but I hadn't wanted that. Although my plan isn't to be here for very long, I'd thought that making a few friends wouldn't be a bad idea. It's been a long time since I've wanted to socialize with anyone, but loneliness has been haunting me as of late.

Maybe it's stupid though, wanting to have a friend or two when there couldn't possibly be someone who could understand where the state of my mind and life are currently at?

I sigh at myself. Shaking off the gloomy thoughts about my social life, I focus instead on continuing with my unpacking instead. Once I'm finished, I flop onto the bed on my stomach, letting out a big sigh. The bed is kind of hard and smells a bit musty, but to my tired body, anything will do. My eyes slowly shut, my mind wandering to my roommate, wherever and whoever they are. I wonder what they'll look like, if they'll be a guy or girl, if we'll get on well, when they will get here...

"Good afternoon!"

My eyes fly open when someone jumps on my bed from behind, fully waking up my half-asleep self. I hear childish giggling from behind me and quickly pull myself up into a sitting position, turning to face the rude intruder. What I see isn't quite what I expected. A lanky girl, about my age, with wild black curls framing an oval face and green, cattish eyes, sits on the end of my bed.

"Could've let me sleep," I grumble, under my breath.

"The name is Ingrid, Ingrid Coetzee," she introduces herself. "But you can call me Iggy, everyone else does. I saw you lying here and just couldn't resist. You see, I love surprising people. And daddy always did say that I knew how to make an entrance. I hope I didn't scare you though, that wasn't my intention. I kind of like this little room, cozy, isn't it? I suppose you're my dormmate? It's good to meet you...uh, um..."

It's no wonder she doesn't know how to address me, since she didn't pause long enough for me to give her my name. Stay polite, Ana, I order myself. If you can't do that you won't be able to make any friends whatsoever in this dreadful place.

"I'm Ana Barkley," I tell her, holding out my hand. "Good to meet you too."

She blinks down at my hand for a few beats, before she nods, almost to herself, and shakes it with her own. "Ana...is that short for something? I had a great aunt called Ann and no one ever found out that her real name was Annushka until after her funeral. Odd name, don't you think?"

"My name is short for something, but I go by Ana." I attempt to end her chatter with the cold tone of my voice, but she is unperturbed and carries right on.

"Ohhh, okay, I see how it is. Your full name must be strange too. It doesn't matter, we all have little shames that we keep to ourselves, don't we? I don't mind at all. Although, I wouldn't mind us sharing our secrets in the future either. Like sisters! I've always wanted a sister! Got four older brothers, but no sister. Oh, but I just know that you and I will get on so wonderfully. We may even be kindred souls, like Anne and Diana in Anne of Green Gables. Have you read Anne of Green Gables? Some even say I'm like Anne, because I talk so much, but I prefer to think I'm calmer, like Diana. You could be Anne. Wouldn't it be lovely if we were kindred spirits?"

"Ingrid!" I cut her off. "Can I please sleep now and talk later?" I ask. Not that I was doing much of the talking. Who even says 'shames' anymore?

She looks crestfallen for a moment, and I worry that I've offended her with my abruptness. But that's not the case, or so I find out with her next speech. "You called me Ingrid. Only one unfriendly geography teacher I had in middle school or complete strangers call me that. My friends call me Iggy. You can call me that, if you like. We will be friends, won't we?"

I try not to roll my eyes a little. Then I make the mistake of looking at her unusual but pretty features, and I see the pure jovialness of her nature in those catlike eyes. She means no harm, she's merely very outgoing. "Yes, we will."

"You mean it?"

"I do, Iggy."

Her freckled face lights up at that. She jumps up and off my bed, and I roll back onto my stomach. "Then I'll just leave you to snooze like you were doing in the first place. I'm sorry for waking you up, by the way. I'll be extra quiet unpacking. You won't have to worry, I'll be a great dormmate, I'll-"

"Iggy." I groan into my pillow.

"Oh, yes, sorry. I'll let you sleep now."

Despite myself, I smile. Iggy Coetzee is for sure something different to anyone I ever knew back home.

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Author's note: The photo is of Ana. :) Thought you'd like to know what she looks like. (the way I imagine her to look like, at least)

I'd really love to know your thoughts on this chapter. Thank you for reading, and go have yourself a fantastic day.