I tried to hide my fear of all things perky, but I’m pretty certain my wide eyes gave me away. “Wow.”
Bridget bounced down the steps and bear-hugged me. For a girl of one hundred and ten pounds, give or take ten pounds, she was pretty damned strong.
“And don’t you worry, Dakota.” She gripped me by the shoulders. “My mother was a Tri Delta. My sister was a Tri Delta. We’re as good as in.”
Had I said anything about pledging a sorority? I didn’t remember saying anything. “Thanks.”
She raised her shoulders and whooshed out a happy little breath. “Well, roomie. See you upstairs. I have a few more boxes to grab.”
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“Nope! Gettin’ my workout!”
“Okay.” I waved her off, and she skipped her merry way down the stairs.
Great. I have the happiest person on the planet as my roommate.
I entered my dorm room, and though it had only been five minutes max since I’d left it, Bridget had her bed piled with twinkling lights, pink frilly bedding, and a gazillion pink sandals.
It was going to be a long, happy, pink year.
I sat on my bed and realized that I still held the unopened package from my mother. I squeezed the large envelope, wondering what it might be. The return address was somewhere in the UK. I tore the paper and tipped it over. A notebook, identical to the one my father had given me for my birthday, slid out. Bound with distressed leather, I opened it up and saw that he’d written on the first page:
To my darling daughter, Dakota. Record every moment, every thought, cherish your youth. Live the life you’ve always dreamed of. Love, Dad.
They were nice words, but words he should have said in person. Over the past few months, I’d seen him only once when he’d flown in and out for my graduation. Neither of my parents admitted to anything, but I could tell things weren’t so good between them. They barely spoke two words to each other, and my dad left right after dinner. Said he had an important assignment that couldn’t wait. As he left, he hugged me tightly and simply said he was sorry. For what? I didn’t know. Maybe for everything. In any case, my list of father-daughter grievances was spectacularly long, so a simple “sorry” wasn’t going to do the trick. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but worry. About him. My mother. Me. Our lives felt as though they teetered on the edge of a sharp knife, impending doom just around the corner.
That’s really why this move felt more important than ever; I needed a fresh start. And to do that, I had to separate myself from their problems. It was the only way I would get my life back on track.
I glided my hand over the smooth leather of the notebook and then quickly dug out my favorite pen—it was a pink steel pen with little rhinestones that Mr. M had mailed to me as a graduation gift. He’d unexpectedly retired right after “the car incident,” to follow his dream of becoming a writer. I hadn’t seen him again, but I felt happy knowing he was somewhere out there, living his dream.
I slipped the pen into the special hidden slit in the binding of the notebook and read the inscription again. Live the life you’ve always dreamed of. That was exactly what I’d do.
I closed the notebook and held it to my chest. “Great idea.” I sighed.
“What is? What’s a great idea?” Bridget burst through the door, sweaty, skinny, panting. A tall and equally skinny brunet with glasses and wearing overalls stood beside her.
“Nothing,” I replied. “Just talking to myself. I do that a lot. I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”
“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “In case you get the urge to talk to real people, I’d like you to meet Christy, our next-door neighbor.”
“Hi, I’m Dakota.” I smiled and made a little wave.
“Hey. Nice to meet you,” Christy said in quiet, little voice. Obviously, she was the shy type.
“Christy is a bio major—just like Lisa, Bren, and Taylor, who are also on the floor—crazy, huh?” How did Bridget know everyone already? Bridget snapped her fingers. “iPhone charger!” Bridget dug through one of her boxes and pulled out a tangled mess of cables. “Ah! Here it is.” She handed it to Christy.
“You should come with us tonight,” Bridget said to Christy, and I immediately wondered what she meant by “us.” “There’s a welcome cocktail at the Kappa House. And let me tell you, fifty of the hottest guys on campus will be there. Dakota’s going.” She looked at me. “Aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but more of an affirmation.
I suddenly felt nervous. Downright panicky. My experience with guys hadn’t been so positive.
Shut it, Dakota. This is what you’re here for. You can do this.