Strange and Lovely (Part 1)

Strange and Lovely

Part 1

By Rachel Redd

© 2014

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Please be advised that this book does contain explicit language and sexual content intended for readers 18+.

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Copyright Page

Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Special Thanks

I
laid out on my roof, gazing up at the sky. My favorite constellation was Libra with its symbol of the weighing scales. I was most comfortable when everything was balanced. But tomorrow, all that was going to change.

I wouldn’t be able to do this for another nine weeks once I was at Valhalla University in the city tomorrow morning. Instead of basking under the glimmer of starlight, I would be simmering underneath the washed out halogen lights of a too tightly packed lecture hall. New York City had always been this glamorous, different world to me, but tomorrow it would be my home. I’d spent the last eighteen years of my life here in Willows Peak. Oddly, still, there was something strange and lovely about the great and vast unknown.

I couldn’t sleep. It was too hot, my mind was too chaotic, and I kept feeling like I forgot to pack something. Leaving nothing to chance, I mulled over everything I had craftily stuffed in my suitcase: toothbrush, toothpaste, blankets, pillows, loose leaf paper, pens, pencils, calculator, a mini bottle of liquor...

In my periphery, I saw a shadow running across my yard. I sat up, and watched the shadow stop at the oak tree in front of my house. It grabbed the lowest tree branch, and pulled itself up. It continued to climb up until it was almost level with the roof. A hand reached up onto the shingles, and Declan pulled himself up onto the roof.

“How did I know you’d be here?” he asked, walking over and sitting next to me.

“I tried sleeping in my bed,” I said. “It was claustrophobic.”

“You realize a dorm will be half the size of your room, right?” he asked. “You should stay here. I’m just as good as any Ivy League professor.”

“Didn’t you once fail art class?” I asked.

“I wanted to see what would happen if you put a calculator into a kiln,” he said. “Apparently, it spontaneously combusts.”

“I’m pretty certain it’s not spontaneous when it’s inside a kiln that’s burning over a thousand degrees,” I said.

“It seemed pretty spontaneous to Mrs. Burkowski,” he said. I laughed.

“Poor Mrs. Burkowski,” I said. “You nearly gave her a heart attack.”

I looked back up at the stars. He looked up too.

“Do you see Libra?” I asked.

“I see a bunch of little dots,” he said. “I’ve heard they call them stars.”

I punched him in the shoulder. He laughed as he rubbed where I had clocked him.

Declan and I first met when we were in third grade. A male classmate had pushed me to the ground, and Declan rushed over to protect me. I shoved Declan to the ground for interfering, and we became life-long friends after that.

“Are you scared?” he asked. “Going off to live in the Big Apple? The City that Never Sleeps? You know there’s a lot of freaks in city at night. You’re not a kid anymore, Rory. You can’t just trust everybody. ”

“A little,” I said. “But not because it’s a city. I’m afraid of leaving everything behind here, and when I come back, nothing will be the same.”

“I’ll be the same,” Declan said. “We can spontaneously combust a calculator for old time’s sake when you come back.”

He placed his hand right next to mine, so that our pinkies almost touched. I moved my hand, clasping my hands together over my knees.

Declan was considered attractive. I had known him too long to really reflect on his physical appeal, but women do tend to circle him like he’s fresh meat, and they’re hyenas. He was tall with a broad chest. His eyes are dark and curious. A mess of mid-length hair fell over his ears. I thought the largest attraction for women though was his danger appeal. They saw a man that was from the upstate “rust belt,” and they assumed that he was the same as the bad boys in movies. Maybe he was to them, but I always saw the same boy I knew as a kid.

Declan tugged on a strand of my hair. He never changed; definitely still the same scrawny boy I once knew. I whacked his hand away.

“Don’t be a clichéd asshole just because you’re not going to college,” I said. “Go do something.
Anything
.”

“Hey,” he said. “My brother needs help on the construction site, and here I am, the ready-made slave. Besides, I won’t fit in with the Ivy League kids you’ll be hanging out with. You guys will be talking about all this smart stuff like string theory and total world domination, and I’ll be sitting there, scratching my ass.”

I smacked his shoulder, again.

“I’m still me, Declan. Now, I’m just me with a full ride scholarship. Valhalla’s not going to change me into some condescending, overeducated, prissy bitch,” I said. “We’ll still hang out when I come back and scratch our asses together.”

He laughed.

“I won’t change,” I said. He shook his head.

“You have to change,” he said. He licked his lips, which were always chapped. “If you don’t change, those trust fund kids will see you coming a mile away. They’ll eat you alive.”

“Let them try,” I said. I laid down on my back. He looked down at me.

“Well, remember that Hansel and Gretel left crumbs along the trail, so they could find their way back home,” Declan said. “Then, the crumbs were gone, and they ended up having to shove a witch into an oven so they wouldn’t get eaten.”

“You’re not Hansel I’m not Gretel, and this isn’t a fairy tale,” I said. Declan stood up, and walked to the edge of the roof.

“Just remember how to find your way back home,” he said. He jumped down onto the tree and disappeared into the dark.

***

T
he first thing I saw of Valhalla University’s Cooper Hall was the brine-green ivy that twisted along its walls. A scale of rough bricks with kneaded and uneven surfaces framed the structures of all twelve buildings on campus. Lush lawns with airy wide open spaces were filled with students idling between their classes. Valhalla was one the few schools to sit smack dab in the center of New York city. Well respected for its top-grade research in science and advanced technology, but notorious for its low acceptance rates. Rumors swirled that the school even dealt in more sinister disciplines, such as the black arts. 

I approached an erect iron statue beneath a hollowed archway. The eyes of Perseus glared down at me. The Greek savage rendered bloodless by way of iron, held a broad sword in his right hand and clutched the head of medusa in the other. I stared directly into her eyes as I passed underneath the shadow of the statue. My dormitory, Odin Hall, was just up ahead.

The second thing I noticed were the new students that swarmed throughout all parts of the dormitory. An aristocratic halo surrounded them all. Heirs of the most wealthy in all of the city converged with their couture duffle bags and leather luggage. They stood around pleased as the hired help hauled their belongings inside. Another car backed out of their spot near the entrance, and I drove my busted-up Suzuki hatchback into it.

Alone, I picked up two of my suitcases and walked inside. My father couldn’t make it up to New York City because apparently the lawyers he worked for couldn’t afford to have one less janitor. I’ve accepted the fact that life is full of sabotage. Plans are plundered. Hopes are dashed.

I dragged my suitcases down the hallway until I reached the door that read
307
. I fished out the keys they gave me during orientation and unlocked the door. As I swung open the door, I discovered a planet of pink.

Or, at least half a planet of pink. One side of the room had an upchuck of pink blankets, pink pillow cases, pink clothes strewn all over the floor, a pink lampshade, and posters of some pop band I vaguely recognized.

The other side of the room looked like I wandered into a soviet gulag. The only distinguishing thing about it was the tiny holes in the walls and the stain on the mattress. As I lugged my heavy suitcases into the room, I realized two more boxes still sat in the trunk of my car. I wished Declan could have come with me, so at least I could use him for his biceps.

I stepped back out and locked the door.

“Hey, freshman.”

A guy stepped up to me. He had short blonde hair, and he wasn’t exactly tall. He pointed to a sticker on his chest that read
Adam
. “I’m Adam. Your R.A. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I’m good,” I said. “I just have two more boxes to get.”

“Oh, Sam and I can help you with that,” Adam said. He looked over to his shoulder where a guy and girl were talking. “Ay!
Sam
! Be useful!”

Sam turned around. He had light blonde hair that was spiked up with gel. He was tall and lithe. He wore a button up shirt with khakis. Pure prep. Sam strolled over to Adam and I. His swagger oozed the comfort of wealth. When he smiled at me, there was something strange about his teeth, like a jagged snagatooth. The guy had no tan, exactly the opposite. Pale. He stuck his hand out.

“Samuel Larousse, Head Chair of Omega Zeta, at your service,” he purred. Adam rolled his eyes.

“She needs helps carrying her boxes, not finding a way to your bed,” Adam said.

“It can’t be both?” Sam asked. I walked past them to the stairway. They both followed me. We all flattened against a wall as a student carried up a flat screen.

“So, you never told me your name,” Sam said as we started walking again.

“I know,” I said. He laughed.

“Okay, I get it. Smart freshman. Ivy League. Which means that you
didn’t
buy your way into the school,” he said. “You know about stranger danger. So, let’s talk and I’ll no longer be a stranger.”

I stepped down to the first floor and walked through the door. I parked my Suzuki hatchback near the entrance, so it only took me a few long strides to reach it. I popped open the trunk. Curiously, Sam remained indoors, perhaps to avoid the summer heat, as Adam looked over my car.

“She’s definitely not from money,” Sam said.

“Are you mocking my poor hatchback?” I asked.

“It’s a red car with a blue door,” he said.

“Junkyards are cheap,” I shrugged. “But you don’t look like you know what cheap is.”

“It’s the sound a chicken makes,” he said, picking up one of my boxes when Adam approached the door. I laughed. Adam carried the other box. Sam grinned. “See, I can be fun.”

I shook my head, closing the trunk. “My name is Rory.”

“Rory?” he asked.

“Short for...Aurora,” I admitted. He smirked. “It’s not that funny.”

I opened the door for them, and they walked back into the dormitory.

“I wasn’t smiling because I thought it was funny,” he said. “I was smiling because...it’s adorable.”

I groaned, walking behind Adam as they lumbered back on the steps. “Don’t say that.”

“Adorable,” he repeated. When we reached the third floor, and walked toward my room, I found that my door was open. I walk into the room and found a girl. She wore so much pink I barely saw her standing there. She had a spiral of pink bracelets slipping up and down her arms. There was something peculiar about the way her skin glistened like crystals and the rosy pinch in her cheeks.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, bouncing over to me. She wrapped her arms around me and then stepped back. “My name is Kaylee Barstow.”

“Hi, Kathy,” Sam said deliberately.

“It’s Kaylee,” she replied with her fists dug in her sides. I heard the sound of bracelets clapping against each other as she folded her arms. “K-a-y-l-e-e.”

“Hey, Kaylee,” I said. “I’m Rory.”

“Aurora,” Sam whispered behind me. I jabbed him with my elbow. Instead, it hit my box, and I winced. He laughed and then set the box inside the room. Adam set the other box on top of it. Sam nodded at Kaylee’s side of the room. “Let me guess...you like the color black.”

She laughed. It sounded like tiny bells ringing.

“You sure pegged me,” she chuckled. “I am just chock full of angst, misery and ennui.”

“Well, ladies, we have a floor meeting at 8 pm on Sunday. It’s mandatory,” Adam said. He grabbed Sam’s arm. “I will take this cretin with me now as we leave.”

Sam winked at me. “We should have our own meeting after that meeting. Also mandatory.”

I closed the door as soon as he was outside of the room. Kaylee bounced onto her bed. That seemed to be the only movement she was capable of. Bouncing.

“Those eyes on Samuel Larousse just
don’t
quit. Don’t you think?” she said.

“What are you studying?” I asked, ignoring her question.

“Hotel Administration,” she said. “What about you?”

“I’m undecided,” I admitted. She raised one of her thin and well sculpted eyebrows.

“You’re kidding, right?” she said. “You worked all the way up to the Ivy League, and you don’t know what you want to do with your life?”