Chapter One
Peas, Peas, Peas.
Where are the damn peas?
My eyes scan through all the perfectly lined up cans on the shelf. There's canned corn, canned carrots, canned yams, and yet no canned peas.
I take a step back to look at the cans toward the bottom of the shelf and bend down to get a closer look. However, all I end up getting is a nice smack against the head. My hand flies up to the area of impact while my eyes lock on to the box of chocolate cake mix now resting beside me.
My lips part to emit the curse my mind immediately conjures up, but my thoughts gets cut off when another box comes sailing over the shelf and hits me in the shoulder. I stare down at the box of vanilla cake mix sitting beside my leg before I find myself slowly standing back up.
I glance around trying to assess the situationâtrying to wrap my brain around the fact that I'm in such a situation, but there's no one else in the aisle. I bend back down and pick up the vanilla cake mix just as another box flies over. Luckily, it doesn't hit me this time, but instead lands with a resonating smack against the grocery stores white linoleum floor. Red velvet.
"Dude! Wrong aisle!" someone yells.
My head whips in the direction of the sound, and I see a guy standing at the end of the aisle.
He jogs his way towards me, and I note that he's wearing the maroon polo that all the employees wear and light grey sweatpants. His dirty blonde hair is spiked up in the front. He seems to be a bit out of place with his physically fit physique, but as he gets closer I find the air getting caught in the back of my throat when I'm greeted by his bright green eyes.
"Sorry about that," he says, stopping in front of me. "I was restocking the cake mix when my"âhe pauses and leans in closer to the shelfâ"idiot friend tossed them over the wrong shelf."
A low grumble emits from the shelf which means his friend heard him.
"It's fine," I assure as green eyes, as I have now dubbed him, bends down and picks up the chocolate cake mix.
My feet seem rooted to my spot as green eyes goes around me and grabs the red velvet box before returning to his spot in front of me. We stand there staring at each other for a few seconds before he extends his hand out. The confusion is written in the crease between my eyebrows from the expectant look in his eyes, but then my brain reminds me that I'm still holding the vanilla box. I tuck a fly away strand of hair behind my ear, but it does nothing to hinder the warmth that falls over my skin.
"Oh, um, I think I'm going to keep this one." I fidget with the box for an extra second, noting the red spoon on the box signifies it's not just any ordinary cake mix, but rather Betty Crocker cake mix. Part of me wants to ask if it's on sale, but when I glance back up his lips are quirked up to one side and my rationality flies over the opposite shelf.
"So you're a vanilla kind of girl." Those green eyes are suddenly all to knowing as they slowly circle around me like I'm a mannequin instead of a person. At least mannequins tend to have better style than I do at this very moment.
I'm wearing athletic shorts, a baggy sweatshirt, and my hairs up in a high ponytail. My brain automatically spits out another internal curse, but I quickly shoo it away because I shouldn't care. And for a second I don't care, but then our eyes lock again, and, instead of a box of cake mix, I'm smacked in the face with his grin.
"Well, I'm more of a red velvet kind of guy." He holds up the box and gives it a tap with his knuckles. "I'm Trent." The declaration makes me glance at his shirt, finally noticing the name tag resting there. Trent is quick to follow my gaze and, as if noticing it himself, he points to it with a laugh. "And I guess its right there."
"Yo! I found the microwavable pizza and it's on sale!"
A lanky guy who also happens to be wearing the maroon employee polo throws said frozen pizza box in the air as he saunters down the aisle, but just when the box lands back in his hands, his eyes land on me.
"Hello there," the brown haired boy sends me a slow, television host-like wink the second he reaches Trent's side. I can only assume he's Trent's friend and the culprit of my still throbbing head.
I cast my gaze down to avoid the gesture, but I still can't bring my legs to move. My eyes land on Trent's sneaker covered feet. His sneakers are a mix of greys and have hints of dark blue, but one of the dirty white laces is missing an aglet and fraying. The sight makes me internally cringe and my eyes dart to the cans on the shelf resting beside his feet.
"Peas!" I gasp before practically body slamming the shelf as I reach for the can.
A victory grin stretches across my face as I take a step back and triumphantly roll the can in my hand.
"Peas?"
"Why not some carrots?"
There's snickers and grunts and I look up to catch the end of a shoving war. The guys look way too sheepish for there own good and the brown haired guy confirms my thoughts when he gives Trent's shoulder one final shove. Trent is a little disoriented, but not long enough to cause any damage to the smile coating his face.
"Wellâ" I finally step back. "I'm gonna go." I flick my thumb over my shoulder for emphasis before turning around, ducking my head down, and speed walking away.
"Wait! What's yourâ " One of them calls, but I just turn out of the aisle taking my peas, vanilla cake mix, and the rest of my dignity with me.
****
"Mom! I got the peas!" I call walking through the front door and kicking it closed behind me.
My hands are full of grocery bags, and I've got the gorilla grocery limp as I head down the narrow hallway further into the house. The stairs are on my right, the wall filled with photos on my left before the tan wall gives way to the kitchen. I dump all the food items on the counter that sticks out in the middle of the room more like a peninsula inside of an island even though we always refer to it as the latter. My mom turns around from her position at the stove and wipes her hands on a kitchen towel before coming over to assess the items in the white plastic bags.
"Did you get egg noodles? And the eggs? Were they on sale? Oh, what about the milk? I texted you because I forgot to tell you before you left." She begins sifting through the bags and hurriedly pulling things out.
"Yes, mom, I'm okay. Yes, I made it home safe. Thanks for asking," I tease as I plop down on to one of the barstools while only receiving a light chuckle in response.
"Lacie, you know I love you."
Now it was my turn to laugh. "No, you just love the fact that I can go get the groceries. What are you going to do when I go to collegeâin what? Less than a week?"
My mom finally looks up and pouts at me. The pout is completely mocking, but I know the sadness in her light brown eyes is real as she walks around the island and spreads her arms out.
"I'm going to miss you so much," my mom coos as she squeezes me to her chest, making my laugh sound more like a choke as I hug her back.
"I'm going to miss you, too." I squeak into her shoulder.
We stay like that for a few seconds, and I find myself closing my eyes as I inhale the cool powdery scent that is both my mom and essentially my childhood. I'm taken back for second at the thought, but before I can get too sentimental, my mom's arms tighten around me for one extra second before she finally pulls away. She adverts her eyes and wipes at her face as she heads back over to the stove, most likely trying to hide the tears she's had in the corners of her eyes since graduation.
"Did you at least finish packing?" she ends the question on a sniff while my spine stiffens.
"Uh," I drag out the sound before dashing out of the room, and my mom's laughter echoes behind me.
I run up the stairs to my room and dramatically throw open the door to reveal the light lavender walls, suitcases with clothes spilling out of them, totes with décor precariously stacked one on top of the other, and my little sister, Layla, lying across the floor with the measuring tape.
"What are you doing?" I ask as I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the doorframe.
The measuring tap retracts with a snap. "Nothing."
"I'm only going a few hours away," I repeat the same phrase I've been saying since I received my acceptance letter. Only today, I've added an extra wave of my hand to gesture to the room I'm expecting to stay intact.
My younger sister quickly stands up and attempts readjust her hair, pajama shirt, and expression. Once she thinks she's mastered the innocent façade she begins to sway back on her heels while holding the measuring tape behind her back. "I know. I was just seeing if your room has a . . . larger air space." The cheeky smile she then sends my way doesn't help her case.
Although I immediately want to laugh, I raise my brow instead. We continue to stare back at each other like this for a few seconds before Layla's lips droop.
"You win."
I let out a quick cackle at the notion before going over and flopping down on my bed.
"You can't have my room." The declaration is more of a sigh as I stare up at the ceiling, and her sigh is the only response I need before the bed dips as she flops down beside me.
"I know."
I turn on my side to face her, noting the way the long thin blonde strands of her hair blend in with some of the flowers in my comforter. I meet her gaze again only to watch as she attempts to blow her bangs out of her face. After two failed attempts, she finally wipes them aside with her hand before her light brown eyes lock with mine. We're five years apart, but when we're together we're rarely five feet apart. We have our screaming matches when she touches my things, or when she refuses to step in the shower some days, like today, but I tell her everything, and for all I know she does the same.
We continue to stare back at each other for a few seconds before water begins to build up in the corners of her eyes. "I'm really going to miss you."
She brings a hand up to wipe at her nose, but that doesn't stop me from hearing the sniffle she emits. I inhale a shaky breath not only not ready to deal with my own wayward emotions, but also all the ones my family keeps throwing at me.
"I'm going to miss you, too," I admit, but I quickly swallow my own tears and force a smile as I shove her shoulder. "I still have five days and cell phones exist, I mean, you're on yours almost every second of the day."
Layla doesn't hesitate in shoving me back, and I let out a quick laugh before continuing.
"Seriously, though, you know you can call, or text me whenever you want."
Now she's the one to laugh. "How about at three o'clock in the morning?"
"Um, no."
I shove her shoulder again while her laugh is obnoxious in the best possible way, and I can't help but reciprocate it.
Once our laughter fades, I turn back on my back and cast my gaze on the ceiling. It doesn't take long for me to spot the two tiny glow in the dark stars resting in the corner above the door. Those stars have been there since we've been here. One of Layla and one for me. The slow up and down movement of our chests count the seconds. I guess in a way they always do. And although I'd be happy to lay here the rest of the day, my conscience gets the best of me, and I finally pull myself back up.
"All right, well I have to finish packing, so unless you want to helpâ" I practically feel the wind of my sister's exit smack me in the face as the rest of my sentence dies on my lips.
I shake my head at the fact that I've never seen her run that fast, but I don't blame her. I barely have any motivation myself.
I stand up and head towards the door frame, but almost get knocked down by my purple and pink paid pajama clad sister as she dashes back in the room. She snatches one of my floral throw pillows of my bed and hugs it to herself. She flashes me with another cheeky smile when she turns back around before dashing out of the room again. I shake my head, because that's all I can really do about the situation, before making my way down the hall and into the bathroom.
I plant both of my hands on either side of the sink before looking up into the mirror. I've got pale white skin despite my attempt to get a tan over the summer, but I did welcome a few new freckles that will probably fade as fall comes.
I reach up and pull my hair out of the ponytail its in, allowing the frizzy blonde tendrils to fall down to their medium length at my shoulders. I lock eyes with myself in the mirror and find my olive green eyes staring back at me. The bright green eyes I locked with at the grocery store flash in my head, and I can't help but think that they make my eyes seem so dull in comparison. I shake my head, shaking away the memory, and push off the sink. It's not like I'm ever going to see him again.
****
"Are you sure you have everything?" my mom asks.
I consider her question for a second before slowly nodding. "I think so."
"Your tooth brush?"
I nod.
"Toothpaste?"
I nod again.
"Floss? Deodorant?"
"You don't want to stink." My sister chimes in, and I shove her arm with a laugh.
"Shower shoes? Because there are so many germs," my mom says it as if she's talking to herself before her eyes meet mine again. "Enough towels?"
"Maybe we should buy you some more towels." My dad chimes in, and both my parents are now whispering and nodding, and I find myself laughing again.
"You guys, I think I'm . . ." My words falter when I'm met with all there eyes again and for a second I'm hesitating along with them. But then I take a deep breath, and my smile returns as I say the words that, over the past couple of days, I've been willing myself to believe. "I'm okay."
"Okay," my mom says with an affirmative nod. "Okay," she repeats as she quickly waves a hand in front of her face before she pulls me into a hug. We both share an inhale before my mom gives me one of her signature squeezes. "I love you," she whispers into my ear before she turns her head and places a chaste kiss to my temple.
"I love you too," I mumble into her chest before we both pull away, so I can embrace my dad.
"Have fun," he says as he plants a big kiss on the top of my head. "But not too much fun."
"Love you, too." I laugh as I pull away.
Then I come face to face with my little sister whose cheeks are flushed from the few tears streaming down them. I quickly to yank her into my embrace before my own tears can flood down my face. She happily wraps her arms around me and, just like my mom, squeezes me with all her might.
I reciprocate the squeeze for a solid two seconds before I pull back just as a stray one traitor tear falls. "Text me whenever, okay?" I don't tear my gaze away as I swipe at my cheek. "And don't drive mom and dad too crazy." I ruffle her hair to lighten the mood. It works because she immediately swats my hand away.
Then, they're all buckled back inside my dad's car and send me a quick wave before driving away. I silently watch the car go from my place on the curb, and the lunch we ate a few hours ago seems to shrivel up inside my stomach. My heart thumps extra hard in my chest, and my fingers curl tightly around my own car keys.
I will myself to breathe and I do. I slowly inhale a large breath and slowly let it out. I repeat the process for a second time before I'm finally able to turn my body around and come face to face with the campus I'm now supposed to call home. All the tall brick dorm buildings laid out before each patch of grass seem like they've grown from the grass itself as if they are just as old as all the oak trees. They aren't as tall, though. The trees are a few feet taller into the sky. It excites me to see nature still standing so strong amongst the concrete, yet I still can't help but think it's all a little too perfect. Not a leaf out of place.
I reach my dorm room and use my student ID to open it. The bed leaning up against the back right corner is filled to the brim with suitcases, totes, and packing boxes. The light blue polka dot sheets look like they were attempted to put on before the owner discarded the task. I was left to take the left side of the room, and it looks like a magazine picture in comparison since my parents and my sister helped me set up all my stuff before they left.
I've got a new navy-blue comforter with teal, white, and periwinkle flowers imprinted on it. My stuff is already spilling off the small wooden desk on my side. I've got everything from notebooks to toiletries piled up. My laptop tops the pile in it's lavender case and my earbuds dangle on top of it the same way my backpack and crossbody bags dangle of the wooden chair. The wood is too bright and too tan to be made out of the trees outside, but at least we don't have to share one. The only thing we do have to share is the tall cupboard like closet next to the door, but I don't think I'm going to bother. I rather keep my clothes in the two trunks under my bed than bother sharing a space my little sister can fit into. I'm more worried about sharing a communal bathroom with the whole floor than I am with sharing the space in this room.
I glance outside the window that divides the room on the back wall. I spot the few people trotting by. The array of cars in the parking lot I trekked over from look small. If the people are ants from our third floor view, the cars are the hills.
I turn back around, but find the contents in my stomach churning again because all my stuff is sitting in front of me, yet it no longer feels like its mine. It feels foreign. I can't bring myself to touch it let alone move it around or use it.
The door swings open and a girl walks in. Her dark curly brown hair looks like it embraces the humidity instead of running away from it like my hair does. It's also colored with a few light pink and blue highlights. The light from the girls phone screen glows over her face and her fingers tap at lightening speed. She glances up and screams at the sight of me. I scream because her scream scared me enough to make me scream. She screams again as if she forgot she already did before silence falls over us again. I'm fidgeting by the window while she continues to stand frozen in the defensive stance she took when she initially laid eyes on me. Our eyes are locked as if we still are unsure the other person is real. I honestly can't decide if her blue eyes are real because they are the brightest colored eyes I've ever seen in person.
The girl finally tilts her head back and laughs, and all the tension uncoils itself from around my spine.
"Sorry." She throws her hand up. "I'm Stephanie."
"Lacie." I smile.
Then she's back to tapping away on her phone and I'm back to teetering in the middle of the room as I try to convince myself to sit on my bed. The silence in the room is only threatened by the echoes of chatter outside out door in the halls.
Stephanie pockets her phone in the back of her jean shorts and stretches her arms into the air. Her long sleeve grey shirt has the University of PennBrook logo splayed across her chest in blue writing. I can't decide if the bold font is tattered and worn on purpose or if its due to frequent washes. Stephanie drops her arms and her hands slap against her legs before she places them on her hips.
"Want to go get some food?" Stephanie is staring out at the window behind me as she asks the question, but I still find myself nodding.
"Sure."
I grab my crossbody back off the back of my desk chair and make sure I have my phone and my student ID card before following Stephanie out the door. We get a few steps down the hallway. The doors are the same wooden color as the furniture, but a few of them are already decorated with dry erase and cork boards. I'm too busy attempting to read people's names before I realize Stephanie stopped in her tracks.
"I forgot my ID," she says before she turns and dashes back to the room. She pushes down on the metal handle and pushes at the door before realizing she needs her ID for that too. She brushes a few wayward curls out of her face as she throws a sheepish smile my way.
I trot back over and slide my ID through, and that is one of the many dash and rescues that occur for the rest of the weekend. It becomes both a game of "who can run, skip, hop, and speed walk to the door first," and an inside joke that officially breaks the ice between us.
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P.S. Pennbrook is NOT a real college