Dear Ms. Fitch,
Congratulations on your acceptance to the Hamada University Exchange Study Program: Intensive Japanese Language Track September 2009 - July 2010 as a non-degree student in the College of International Relations . . .
I couldn't believe my eyes when I opened the letter that Professor Gallagher handed me in class almost three months ago. My mind was instantly flooded with thoughts and dreams. I was holding a piece of paper that encompassed a great deal of meaning in my life. It meant myriad of things for me.
It meant a chance for a new beginning, a chance for change, a chance to turn over a new leaf. It meant undertaking new adventures, facing new challenges, and encountering new people. But above all, it meant freedom.
Freedom from my exasperating mother who wouldn't accept my sexuality. Yes, I am gay. And my mum's a right cow.
Freedom from being constantly viewed as my twin sister Katie's shadow. Yes, I have a twin. And my sister's a right bitch.
Freedom from the robotic person I'd let myself become for the past nineteen years. Yes, I am a dork. And my self-concept is unbelievably low.
I thought about it again. Okay. Maybe just a little dorky. No need to be so harsh on myself. I already feel awkward and pathetic enough.
Freedom from my exasperating mother who wouldn't accept my sexuality. Yes, I am gay. And my mum's a right cow.
Freedom from being constantly viewed as my twin sister Katie's shadow. Yes, I have a twin. And my sister's a right bitch.
Freedom from the robotic person I'd let myself become for the past nineteen years. Yes, I am a dork. And my self-concept is unbelievably low.
I thought about it again. Okay. Maybe just a little dorky. No need to be so harsh on myself. I already feel awkward and pathetic enough.
I sat there, in the backseat, looking out through the airport taxi's window into an unfamiliar place with a totally different time zone. I was in Japan. Japan, Emily, I needed to remind myself. For the love of God, perk the fuck up!
I tried to smile at the scene — bicycle-crowded streets (Whoa, I should find myself one right away), the succession of teensy weensy houses and buildings (Suddenly, I felt like Goliath), and the several, what-seemed-like-duplicated temples and shrines (I'd counted eight so far . . . Typical Kyoto) — but I still could not. I was all by myself and quite uncertain if I were indeed ready to face this pristine endowment of momentary liberty.
I tried to smile at the scene — bicycle-crowded streets (Whoa, I should find myself one right away), the succession of teensy weensy houses and buildings (Suddenly, I felt like Goliath), and the several, what-seemed-like-duplicated temples and shrines (I'd counted eight so far . . . Typical Kyoto) — but I still could not. I was all by myself and quite uncertain if I were indeed ready to face this pristine endowment of momentary liberty.
It was eleven o'clock in the morning and I had begun to enjoy the oriental sun. I had heard September was one of the hottest months. It was definitely a big, delightful change from the boring English summer. My typical summer back in Bristol constituted watching a film about a flying penguin with my earthworm of a little brother James, taking on lame summer jobs with my best mate Cassie, and listening to my sister go on about aiming to visit the most exotic beaches in the world and to party non-stop and to meet lots of fit, tanned real men.
Despite the glorious sun and lovely surroundings, there was a weird twist in my tummy and all the assorted emotions and feelings that I was having became rather overwhelming: anxiety, excitement, frustration, confusion, and bloody jet lag. Actually, everything at that very moment was a tad too overwhelming.
Despite the glorious sun and lovely surroundings, there was a weird twist in my tummy and all the assorted emotions and feelings that I was having became rather overwhelming: anxiety, excitement, frustration, confusion, and bloody jet lag. Actually, everything at that very moment was a tad too overwhelming.
A number of how's concerned me: (1) How could I possibly survive in an alien country for ten months?; (2) How would I be able to manage my social life when I was probably the most introverted dweeb walking on the face of the planet?; and (3) How do I go about starting a new life being the 'only Fitch'—without my twin sister Katie with me?
I had always been recognised as the 'other' Fitch, the 'nicer' Fitch, or worse, the 'lezzer' Fitch. Katie had forever been the one in the spotlight, the one invited to all the raves and wild parties, and the one being asked out on dates by almost the entire University of Bristol football team.
In all honesty, I wasn't really complaining about all that since most of the time I'd rather be alone with a book, or watching a marathon of some outrageous comedy or mopey TV series with my BFF, or ogling pretty girls. Plus, I was certainly not one to be jealous of my sister's animal print leggings *vomits*, mingering bunch of ex-boyfriends *vomits*, and the many snidey remarks people throw at her *vomits*.
In all honesty, I wasn't really complaining about all that since most of the time I'd rather be alone with a book, or watching a marathon of some outrageous comedy or mopey TV series with my BFF, or ogling pretty girls. Plus, I was certainly not one to be jealous of my sister's animal print leggings *vomits*, mingering bunch of ex-boyfriends *vomits*, and the many snidey remarks people throw at her *vomits*.
All the same, I needed Katie from time to time—right now, for instance—because I was just the 'too weak, overly dependent, and scared' Fitch twin. And everything around me still spelled i-n-t-e-n-s-e. Hell, I was shitting bricks.
I wasn't used to change, too, and had always stayed on course. I'd like to think of myself as a good person. An organised, a bit of a control freaky good person. Growing up, I'd always tried to follow the rules and built my life around my goals. I kept my side of the room clean, studied for the exams, wrote checklists, adhered to timetables, did my best to mind my manners around my parents, stayed inside the closet for the most part of my life. Do you really want to hear more about my life? It's dead boring. You'll be asleep before the end of the paragraph. Nutshell: I lived my life as if it were a task.
As I looked out the window, I felt the possibility of another kind of life, a life I had never imagined could be mine. A life without rigid limitations others had always set for me. This was an unusual, scary getaway in a whole new world to embark on an open-ended journey. Sounds terrifying? You bet. Yet despite that, or maybe even because of that, I found myself beginning to smile.
I wasn't used to change, too, and had always stayed on course. I'd like to think of myself as a good person. An organised, a bit of a control freaky good person. Growing up, I'd always tried to follow the rules and built my life around my goals. I kept my side of the room clean, studied for the exams, wrote checklists, adhered to timetables, did my best to mind my manners around my parents, stayed inside the closet for the most part of my life. Do you really want to hear more about my life? It's dead boring. You'll be asleep before the end of the paragraph. Nutshell: I lived my life as if it were a task.
As I looked out the window, I felt the possibility of another kind of life, a life I had never imagined could be mine. A life without rigid limitations others had always set for me. This was an unusual, scary getaway in a whole new world to embark on an open-ended journey. Sounds terrifying? You bet. Yet despite that, or maybe even because of that, I found myself beginning to smile.
"Fitch-san, tsukimashitayo (We are finally here, Miss Fitch)." I was snapped out of my anxiety-laden thoughts by the beaming taxi driver and the car came to a stop in front of a gated driveway.
What? We're here already? Panic began to set in again. In the pre-arrival guide that came with the letter of acceptance, it was said that it would take roughly three hours from Kansai International Airport to Kyoto City. The travel didn't feel like three hours at all—it went by more like me wolfing down a pint of Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie. And trust me, it only takes me a very few minutes to devour the whole thing.
When the car door automatically swung open, I hesitantly slipped out of the backseat, gaped at the modest-looking four-storey building in front of me, and swallowed the lump that, throughout the trip, had increasingly grown in my throat. The thought of what might happen as soon as I set foot on that building . . . and later . . . and tomorrow . . . and the days after that left me with a sense of dread.
What? We're here already? Panic began to set in again. In the pre-arrival guide that came with the letter of acceptance, it was said that it would take roughly three hours from Kansai International Airport to Kyoto City. The travel didn't feel like three hours at all—it went by more like me wolfing down a pint of Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie. And trust me, it only takes me a very few minutes to devour the whole thing.
When the car door automatically swung open, I hesitantly slipped out of the backseat, gaped at the modest-looking four-storey building in front of me, and swallowed the lump that, throughout the trip, had increasingly grown in my throat. The thought of what might happen as soon as I set foot on that building . . . and later . . . and tomorrow . . . and the days after that left me with a sense of dread.
I clutched the retractable handle of my luggage, my palms sweating buckets. I was used to simply tagging along my sister and waiting for her to introduce me around or for her mates to eventually notice me and inquire about me. So here I was, unsure of how I was going to stand alone with my life-sized and life-weighted luggage and how I was going to present myself as Emily Fitch, the only Fitch . . . for now.
"Gojousha arigatou gozaimashita (Thank you for travelling with us), Fitch-san. Soro soro ikimasu (I must be going)," the friendly cab driver said, giving me a polite bow first before walking back to the driver's seat. I bowed and shouted back a thank you.
Then slinging my tote bag over the other shoulder, I watched as the taxi headed down the street, turned, and disappeared around a corner.
As soon as it was out of sight, a fierce fear grabbed hold of me. There was only this Question of the Day that kept popping in my brain: Where the hell do I go from here?
I dragged my bright blue wheeled upright luggage and brown leather holdall across the cobblestones and moved closer. The steps were filled with bonsai pots, and pretty flowers, ivy and lime-green frondy fern things spilled out of them. Almost hidden behind some azalea bushes was an ornate half-open black metal gate. I had a nose and found a mini garden with an expanse of manicured lawn, its nether parts obscured by more trees and trimmed bushes.
The sun was absolutely sunburn central at twelve noon. I could feel my scalp itching as rays burrowed in my hair to find some pink skin to scorch. I had to get inside but was too shy and scared to make a move. From where I was standing, I could already hear voices of people in the dorm chattering in Spanish, Chinese, German, Italian, and other languages unknown to me. And I had to deal with all of those strangers. Finger, say hello to my throat.
Luckily a Japanese woman probably in her late forties barreled through the electronic two-door entrance. Apparently, one has to have one of those keycards to be able to enter our dormitory. Fucking ace. The perks of getting a scholarship to an elite university. I even heard every day was like a fashion show in Hamada U. I made a mental note that I soon must learn how to speak "Prada". Arse. I should have taken lessons from Katie.
An image of me wearing a pink Chanel suit, walking in a pair of strappy, spiky-heeled Jimmy Choos and fake-giggling with a bunch of chic Japanese girls flashed in my mind.
Eugh.
Or maybe not. I had never dreamt of outshining my sister.
An image of me wearing a pink Chanel suit, walking in a pair of strappy, spiky-heeled Jimmy Choos and fake-giggling with a bunch of chic Japanese girls flashed in my mind.
Eugh.
Or maybe not. I had never dreamt of outshining my sister.
"Konnichiwa! You must be Emily Fitch!" the lady exclaimed with a funny 'Nipponglish' accent. "You've finally arrived. We've been waiting for you." Her hair was black and pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck.
I acknowledged her smile with one of my own and did a courteous Japanese-like bow. "Hai, sou desu. Emily Fitch desu (I'm Emily Fitch). Hajimemashite."
She lifted her hand to offer a shake. "Yoshida Mariko to iimasu (My name is Mariko Yoshida). I'm your dormitory manager." We shook hands eagerly. She gave me a very welcoming and motherly smile. "Douzo yoroshiku (It's a pleasure to meet you), Emily-san."
I acknowledged her smile with one of my own and did a courteous Japanese-like bow. "Hai, sou desu. Emily Fitch desu (I'm Emily Fitch). Hajimemashite."
She lifted her hand to offer a shake. "Yoshida Mariko to iimasu (My name is Mariko Yoshida). I'm your dormitory manager." We shook hands eagerly. She gave me a very welcoming and motherly smile. "Douzo yoroshiku (It's a pleasure to meet you), Emily-san."
"Yoroshiku onegaishimasu (I'm pleased to meet you too)," I timidly said back to Mrs. Yoshida. Somehow, I felt at home already. But just as I was internally rejoicing from the homey-ness of it all, an old, burly, grouchy Japanese man wearing a straw hat and holding a pair of giant garden shears appeared from the metal gate.
Or maybe not. This bloke had the makings of a psycho loon with serious anger management issues. Eeep. I wouldn't want to mess.
Or maybe not. This bloke had the makings of a psycho loon with serious anger management issues. Eeep. I wouldn't want to mess.
"This is my husband Takanori," Mrs. Yoshida offered as an introduction. The old man simply nodded stiffly, took my wheeled bag and holdall soundlessly, then turned on his heel to head for the building. We followed him toward the glass doors.
"Douzo ohairi kudasai (Please come in)." The woman courteously pushed the door open for me.
"Uhh . . ." I hesitated on the steps of the building. My heart drummed inside my chest. What would I find in there? Would the dorm be full of crazy people who looked like they'd walked straight out of The Real World? Would there be a chart inside the door that read, "You must be at least this high to enter this dormitory"?
"Come in, Fitch-san," Mrs. Yoshida urged, giving my back a gentle pat. "Don't be shy. This is your new home." I suddenly felt like I was eight.
As my feet landed on the welcome mats, the ten-pound weight in my tummy started to feel more like twenty. But in spite of myself, when I glanced around the place, a moony smile stretched on my face.
Holy cheesepops. The lobby of the dormitory was impressively neat-looking and tasteful (read as bloody expensive). As you step onto the expanse of dark blue carpet, you'd spot a chic black leather seating set in the left corner of the receiving area, a couple of vending machines stood adjacent to it, a huge built-in koi-filled aquarium rested on the left-hand wall where a corridor ran off. Leaning against the right wall was a wide array of lockers-cum-mail boxes for each dormer, and straight ahead was an office-looking space where guests were perhaps assisted, and a shoe rack and a huge bulletin board were placed tidily to the right of the office door.
Chrome here, there and everywhere. Over-all, the place looked very modish with its carpeted floors, white walls, and odd angular architecture. Well, it better be, I thought, considering the sumptuous amount of cash we had to pay. For everyone's knowledge, dorm rent was deducted from my monthly stipend so you couldn't blame me if it was a major concern for me.
Holy cheesepops. The lobby of the dormitory was impressively neat-looking and tasteful (read as bloody expensive). As you step onto the expanse of dark blue carpet, you'd spot a chic black leather seating set in the left corner of the receiving area, a couple of vending machines stood adjacent to it, a huge built-in koi-filled aquarium rested on the left-hand wall where a corridor ran off. Leaning against the right wall was a wide array of lockers-cum-mail boxes for each dormer, and straight ahead was an office-looking space where guests were perhaps assisted, and a shoe rack and a huge bulletin board were placed tidily to the right of the office door.
Chrome here, there and everywhere. Over-all, the place looked very modish with its carpeted floors, white walls, and odd angular architecture. Well, it better be, I thought, considering the sumptuous amount of cash we had to pay. For everyone's knowledge, dorm rent was deducted from my monthly stipend so you couldn't blame me if it was a major concern for me.
Mrs. Yoshida instructed for me to remove my shoes and handed me a pair of grey fuzzy slippers. I appreciatively took them and slipped them on. This practice was very Japanese. I smiled to myself as it had finally sunk in: I am indeed in Japan now.
The Japanese woman then escorted me into their office and provided me with a keycard and a key to my room. "Do you need help with your luggage?" she offered kindly. "I could call my husband to—"
The image of Mr. Yoshida's evil eyes flashed before my eyes like a scary movie. Eeek.
"No, it's okay, Yoshida-san," I answered quickly, holding up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can manage."
I glanced down at the key in my palm. 412, I read on it. 4th floor. Through the office's huge glass window, I frantically surveyed the place for an elevator . . .
The Japanese woman then escorted me into their office and provided me with a keycard and a key to my room. "Do you need help with your luggage?" she offered kindly. "I could call my husband to—"
The image of Mr. Yoshida's evil eyes flashed before my eyes like a scary movie. Eeek.
"No, it's okay, Yoshida-san," I answered quickly, holding up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can manage."
I glanced down at the key in my palm. 412, I read on it. 4th floor. Through the office's huge glass window, I frantically surveyed the place for an elevator . . .
None. Nada. Nai.
Great, I morosely thought with a click of my tongue. Just great. How was I supposed to carry my things up there? I mentally grumbled, but whirled around to give the lady my most courteous smile. "Yep. I, uh, I can manage, Yoshida-san," I swallowed. Right.
Mrs. Yoshida smiled back. "All right. But if you need help with anything, don't hesitate to come to me," she said benignly. "Anyway, Fitch-san, McClair-san will be guiding you around the dorm. She is—"
"Hey there!" A brunette's head suddenly popped out of the slightly open door, startling both me and Mrs. Yoshida. The girl flashed a cheeky grin my way. "Welcome to Casa Gaijin!" Then she pushed the door wider to fully reveal herself and strutted toward me. "I'm Karen Margaux McClair, Karen for short, your tour guide for today. I'm also the Head of House for the semester. That means I'm here to answer to your every need, all right?"
"Hello! I'm Panda Moon." Another girl bounced up to us, appearing at Karen's shoulder. Her long, natural sun-kissed gold hair was a little unkempt and her eyes were red-rimmed and kind of puffy. "I'm gonna be Karen's temporary assistant since Ayami-chan's still out doing some emergency-shopping." She leant close and whispered. "It's, you know, that bloody time of month." She giggled and twirled her blond hair in a very little-girl-type gesture.
I smiled awkwardly and gave a nod. "Okay." Too much information.
"Blooming Nora! You have super duper gorgeous hair!" the blonde gushed, reaching out to run her fingers through my red locks. "You know, back in Sweden we don't have that many redheads so you'll probably stand out like a Sumatran orangutan. And it's not a bad thing 'cos I love monkeys. And bananas and carrots! I love monkeys and bananas and carrots—!" Brnnnng rnnng. A cell phone rang. "Oh, I have to go. Urgent call." She gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Karen. Sorry, Mrs. Yoshida." She started walking backward to the door, her gaze fixed on the pink mobile phone in her hand. "I gotta check on Salami. Mum said he's really, horribly sick right now," she croaked, and her light blue eyes started to well up. She put her phone to her ear, looking pretty upset, and trotted off. Odd Swede.
"Who's Salami?" I asked, genuinely concerned about the blonde.
Karen waved a hand. "Ignore her. She's upset right now. Awfully homesick. Panda's a little spacey on her best days, but when she's emotionally unstable, she really doesn't think clearly. At all. And she loses her line of thought just like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
"Okay," I mumbled, nodding my head. I felt so compelled to listen to her, I had no idea why.
She suddenly gave my boob a playful poke, and I drew back a little in surprise. "I'm sorry in advance if I continually make you feel uncomfortable. But that's my job."
"It's okay." I powered up my grin to full voltage and made sure there was enough distance between us. "I'm used to being uncomfortable."
She laughed at this. "Oh, gosh, you are adorable!"
Mrs. Yoshida clasped her hands together. "Ja, I have to go inside and make a report. Take care of the new dormers, will you, McClair-san?" She gave us a motherly smile and a polite bow.
"Hello! I'm Panda Moon." Another girl bounced up to us, appearing at Karen's shoulder. Her long, natural sun-kissed gold hair was a little unkempt and her eyes were red-rimmed and kind of puffy. "I'm gonna be Karen's temporary assistant since Ayami-chan's still out doing some emergency-shopping." She leant close and whispered. "It's, you know, that bloody time of month." She giggled and twirled her blond hair in a very little-girl-type gesture.
I smiled awkwardly and gave a nod. "Okay." Too much information.
"Blooming Nora! You have super duper gorgeous hair!" the blonde gushed, reaching out to run her fingers through my red locks. "You know, back in Sweden we don't have that many redheads so you'll probably stand out like a Sumatran orangutan. And it's not a bad thing 'cos I love monkeys. And bananas and carrots! I love monkeys and bananas and carrots—!" Brnnnng rnnng. A cell phone rang. "Oh, I have to go. Urgent call." She gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Karen. Sorry, Mrs. Yoshida." She started walking backward to the door, her gaze fixed on the pink mobile phone in her hand. "I gotta check on Salami. Mum said he's really, horribly sick right now," she croaked, and her light blue eyes started to well up. She put her phone to her ear, looking pretty upset, and trotted off. Odd Swede.
"Who's Salami?" I asked, genuinely concerned about the blonde.
Karen waved a hand. "Ignore her. She's upset right now. Awfully homesick. Panda's a little spacey on her best days, but when she's emotionally unstable, she really doesn't think clearly. At all. And she loses her line of thought just like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
"Okay," I mumbled, nodding my head. I felt so compelled to listen to her, I had no idea why.
She suddenly gave my boob a playful poke, and I drew back a little in surprise. "I'm sorry in advance if I continually make you feel uncomfortable. But that's my job."
"It's okay." I powered up my grin to full voltage and made sure there was enough distance between us. "I'm used to being uncomfortable."
She laughed at this. "Oh, gosh, you are adorable!"
Mrs. Yoshida clasped her hands together. "Ja, I have to go inside and make a report. Take care of the new dormers, will you, McClair-san?" She gave us a motherly smile and a polite bow.
Karen turned to the woman and flashed her a wink. "Don't worry, Mrs. Yoshida. Leave everything to me." She put a hand over her chest smugly to indicate herself.
When Mrs. Yoshida disappeared into a room in the office, Karen quickly grabbed my upper arm and steered me toward the door. She snatched a sheaf of coloured papers from the top of a low filing cabinet nearby, which she handed over to me one by one. "Here are the dorm rules, the dorm building and area map, transportation guide, payment schedule, the fire safety blah blah, the earthquake safety yadda yadda, and a list of activities and parties we have planned this fall." She put a casual arm round my shoulders and spoke near my ear. "Oh, and if you're interested," she said, now lowering her voice, "I'm selling an electric knife, a rad pair of onion goggles—you know, to prevent fumes from getting into your eyes and hurting your corneas when you chop your onions with the electric knife. So if you buy the two together, I'll give you a discount. There's also a couple of taco holders up for sale . . . a turkey baster, a hookah, a bunch of fluffy neck pillows, and a shoe box of softcore porn—all of which were left by the previous dormers. Don't worry, the money will proceed to various good causes."
"Good causes. Really?" I said, incredulous and a little ill at ease. I was struggling to pull my gaze away from the dice horseshoe navel ring in Karen's exposed flat tummy.
She nodded. "Yep. Like rooftop parties, barbecue parties, lounge drinking games, tatami room sumo wrestling matches, Wii competitions, beer pong tournaments, farting contests, Air Guitar championships, and a lot more. It's all about the dormers' best interests, you see—ensuring we're making the most out of our stay here."
I have to say, though, Karen was an ogle-able vixen that looked like she should be in a pop video—slim, cocoa latte skin, vibrant brown eyes sexified by a dark purple eye shadow and lush, fluttery lashes, defined cheekbones, full and red lips. Her lush dark hair was long, thick, wavy, and a little bed-head unruly. Her fashion sense did add massive points to her misbehaving bombshell look—a skimpy black skirt, purple tube, and she had her bellybutton pierced. Plus there's something weird yet very sexy about her accent. And her unbelievable confidence, ability to be totally comfortable dealing with a bunch of strangers, and cheek to deliver such nonsensical ideas with great conviction—those of which I didn't possess—were quite admirable.
But that didn't change the fact that she was a bit too annoyingly aggressive and kooky and super-spunky and wild. It was too much vivaciousness to deal with at the moment.
But that didn't change the fact that she was a bit too annoyingly aggressive and kooky and super-spunky and wild. It was too much vivaciousness to deal with at the moment.
"Uh . . . okay," I said, inserting the papers into my tote bag. I wonder if the tourney winners do get some sort of award too.
"Oh and the winners do get prizes," she said, as if reading my mind. "There are trophies for the semestral Wii and Air Guitar champs. They just get turned over, you see."
"Oh, okay," I said slowly, not knowing if I should be delighted at this or just be utterly baffled. This was nuts. She was nuts.
Then the brunette placed one hand on her chest. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she said with a laugh. "I haven't asked what's your name, beautiful. I get so carried away sometimes."
"I'm Emily," I answered, smiling.
"Emily Fitch? Ah, oui, oui! Je te connais!" Her eyes lit up. "The cute one with the red hair! Cool." She made a sheepish face. "I'm such an idiot, right? I should've known it was you." Then her eyes sized me up closely, and a blush took over my face. "Funny, though, I had expected you to be taller . . . and your hair redder." She put an arm around my shoulders and shrugged. "Oh well. You might be tiny, but you're still a looker, eh? And you've got a fanbase here already, you know that, hun?" She grinned widely at me and wiggled her brows meaningfully as she squeezed my shoulders. "Be careful of them."
"Huh?" I wasn't sure I'd heard her properly. Did she say I have a fanbase? I swallowed, my face turning pale. Me? For real? I shook my head, the news only making me feel more uncomfortable.
She gave her wavy hair a little shake. "Anyway, you're one of the last ones to arrive, Emily. And you know what that means?"
I shook my head again, completely clueless.
Karen threw her hands up in the air. "You're in for the best fucking dorm tour ever!" she exclaimed, too enthusiastically. "You know you gotta leave an impression, yea?" She then laughed maniacally, and an unsettling feeling gripped my stomach.
Okay. This girl is indubitably a bit insane, I did a mental note whilst looking at her as if she were demented. And French. Not that I had anything against French people but . . . Stay away from her, Emily.
"Huh?" I wasn't sure I'd heard her properly. Did she say I have a fanbase? I swallowed, my face turning pale. Me? For real? I shook my head, the news only making me feel more uncomfortable.
She gave her wavy hair a little shake. "Anyway, you're one of the last ones to arrive, Emily. And you know what that means?"
I shook my head again, completely clueless.
Karen threw her hands up in the air. "You're in for the best fucking dorm tour ever!" she exclaimed, too enthusiastically. "You know you gotta leave an impression, yea?" She then laughed maniacally, and an unsettling feeling gripped my stomach.
Okay. This girl is indubitably a bit insane, I did a mental note whilst looking at her as if she were demented. And French. Not that I had anything against French people but . . . Stay away from her, Emily.
"Sounds super," I said, with an unsure smile.
The girl cocked her head to the side, narrowed her eyes at me, and parked a fist on her hip. "You're not very chatty, are you, Emily Fitch?" she said. "Now then I guess I'll just have to use my persuasive powers to bring out your inner Oprah, yea?"
My eyebrows scrunched up almost immediately and I stared at her, dumbfounded. Somehow, I was not so comfortable with her planning to 'use her persuasive powers' on me. Should I expect more bananas? More boob-poking?
Karen simply smirked, pinched my cheek, then peeked out the window and beamed at something or - erm - some people. Oh God, more people.
"Oh look, there's Effy and Thomas! Oi!" she called out brightly, waving at the pair by the vending machines like a proper nutter. "Oi, you two! I'm coming!" Then she let out a breath and straightened her skirt. "I'm so ready for my final act. But the question is: Are you ready for me, hun?"
I shifted on the balls of my feet and looked cautious. "I'm not sure."
Putting on an indulgent smile, Karen gave me a wink, then grabbed my hand. "Allez, Emily, allons-y. It's showtime!" She tugged me toward the couple of folks waiting outside . . .
"Oh look, there's Effy and Thomas! Oi!" she called out brightly, waving at the pair by the vending machines like a proper nutter. "Oi, you two! I'm coming!" Then she let out a breath and straightened her skirt. "I'm so ready for my final act. But the question is: Are you ready for me, hun?"
I shifted on the balls of my feet and looked cautious. "I'm not sure."
Putting on an indulgent smile, Karen gave me a wink, then grabbed my hand. "Allez, Emily, allons-y. It's showtime!" She tugged me toward the couple of folks waiting outside . . .
Oh. Sweet. Merciful. Zeus.
Oh. Sweet. Merciful. Zeus.
I was not talking about Karen and all her crazies anymore, but rather, I was talking about this prettier brunette with the most electric and enigmatic azure eyes I had ever seen. She had that understated yet oh so sultry look. Her navy dotted long-sleeved button-down shirt, brown high-waist shorts, and red Barcelona loafers only made her more eye-catching. She reminded me of Bambi because she was really tall with skinny legs.
Effy, I think, was her name if I heard Karen right because my senses seemed to have had collapsed upon seeing her face. Despite the constellation of tiny freckles and the slightly smudged heavy eye-liner around her hypnotic, smoky eyes, her face was almost flawless. God, I am starting to like this place, I thought dreamily, walking toward the tall brunette.
Effy, I think, was her name if I heard Karen right because my senses seemed to have had collapsed upon seeing her face. Despite the constellation of tiny freckles and the slightly smudged heavy eye-liner around her hypnotic, smoky eyes, her face was almost flawless. God, I am starting to like this place, I thought dreamily, walking toward the tall brunette.
As I approached the pair by the vending machine, I was nervous enough for my heart to beat faster, nervous enough not to see a slight downward step on the floor about three inches deep. I let out a yelp on my misstep. I lost my balance and lurched forward, arms outstretched, slamming straight into the blue-eyed brunette then down into the ground.
Oww. Well, hello there, Effy's Barcelona loafers. I almost got the chance to snog her fabulous shoes.
"Oh, fuck. Ow." I struggled pushing myself up and scowled at the blue lint balls on my knees.
I raised my head to see this dark-skinned lad Thomas, bending over. He had his hands on my arms, helping me up. "Oh, damn. You okay?" He pulled me to my feet. "Are you hurt?"
I blinked my eyes and said in a small voice, "Yep. Thanks. I'm okay." I straightened my skirt, adjusted my tote bag, and brushed the hair out of my eyes.
Effy was looking at me as if I'd just dropped off the planet Mars. Jeez. I'm such a joke.
"I'm sorry," I said timidly, barely meeting the girl's eye. I let out a tense laugh, feeling the colour red taking over my whole face. "I have worthless legs."
A group of Chinese kids who obviously just came from the floor kitchen were all staring at me, trying to hold their laughter. Sheesh.
"Oh, my, Miss Fitch, you're making a spectacle of yourself," Karen broke in, taking my hand. "Pretend you're Miss Universe and wave good-bye."
"Good-bye." I waved, smiling at everyone awkwardly. And I instantly heard fits of silent giggles and whispering.
Laughing, Karen put an arm around me and nudged me through the wall of curious onlookers. "Let me save you from further mortification, hunny." She hustled the three of us toward the hallway. "C'mon, let's get going."
We followed Karen along the first floor corridor. She was doing these little ballerina dance moves and was knocking on all the doors to say hi. Each person we had passed by gave her a salute like she was some Amazon queen. You gotta admire this lady's command of the entire dormitory. She was owning the place.
"As you can see," Karen told us when we stopped in front of a kitchen, "the furniture and electric appliances around here are really expensive so whoever stays in here has to be careful."
Effy quirked a brow. "Yea, right."
Karen let out a snort of laughter. "Yea, right, right? I was totally kidding, y'all! My give-a-shitometer is on zero," she said with a roll of her eyes. "We can totally trash this place. But never, I repeat, never touch the azalea bushes outside or the old fellow would flip out, I swear to God." Then she led us upstairs to the second floor. "Now, come on. Let's go explore the whole dorm."
We watched in silence and in amazement as Karen went on dancing and skipping and grabbing stuff along the way. She had even managed to snatch a can of beer and a baguette from some room. Un-fucking-believable.
"Hey, Jakey boy! Heads up!" Karen threw a weird-looking potted cactus plant toward an unsuspecting scrawny, fair-skinned Asian lad with spiky hair and geeky glasses. "That's 350 yen. Just slip the money under my door. Take very good care of it, will you? Anders cried a fucking river over that cactus for like a week when he had to leave. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wu!" Then she turned to us and spoke in a low voice, "His name is Jake Wu. From Taiwan. He may look undernourished and kinda wimpy but he's the reigning Air Guitar champ and he does martial arts. Don't mess with him."
"Thanks, Karen. You're the Boss!" The skinny guy grinned gratefully and excitedly took the plant with him upstairs.
We passed by some rooms with the doors left open. Some pretty odd things were going in those chambers, I have to say. I caught a glimpse of a pair of sweaty tattooed butt cheeks, a girl dancing flamenco to Sisqo's "Thong Song," and a group of seemingly pissed guys attempting to build a human Transformer. Oh God, my eyes!
"I stay here. Room 211." Karen stopped in front of a navy blue door almost covered with 3D beer bottle-shaped magnets, funny statement stickers, and cut-outs of half-naked men. "I love it because it's actually the biggest room here in the dorm and I have the view of the Daimonji and it's in front of the bathroom. Well, I spend ages getting ready and the bathroom is my one of my fave places in the dorm."
"Only 'cos you end up honking your guts up after most nights out," jeered someone from the nearby kitchen. "You're a real fucking party monster, Margaux."
A guy—with tousled dark hair and a not-so-amused look—poked his head out, smirking at Karen.
Karen rolled her eyes. "Well done, André," she told the guy, but a smile took over her face anyway. "Way to besmirch my very pure image." Then she turned to us. "Everyone, that's my big brother, Frédéric André."
"You're his sister?" I asked, staring from the girl to the dark-haired lad.
Karen nodded. "Yep. He's only less than a year older than me so most people thought we were twins." Then she hollered at her brother, "Hé, André! Viens! Come here and meet the new guys!"
"Hello, everyone." The lad stepped out of the kitchen and made his way toward us. He was fairly tall and skinny with light brown skin and a slight French accent. "I'm Freddie. And, s'il vous plait, never call me André."
"Our father named him after his horse who died from diarrhea," Karen filled in.
"Thanks for blurting out that very interesting information, little sis," Freddie muttered, blushing slightly, "but that wasn't really relevant."
With a sweet smile, Karen gave his brother a playful jab. "Don't mention it, André." She let out a short peal of teasing laughter.
After shooting a very funny look at his sister, Freddie's brows drew together when he gazed down at me. "Emily Fitch?"
I ventured a small smile. "The one and only."
"Have you met the other guys?" he asked cautiously.
"Uhh . . . not yet," I answered a bit uncertainly. "Why?" Warning sirens went off in my head. The conversations were starting to sound awfully alike.
Freddie smiled grimly. "They're rip-off Romeos oozing with testosterone. They've conjured up this certain image of you. Don't say I didn't warn you."
My heart froze in my chest. Image? What sort of image? Gaccckkk. I pressed my lips together, hoping to conceal the incredible paranoia I suddenly felt. "Thanks, Frédéric. I will put that in mind."
The grin returned to Freddie's mouth, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "No problem." At least I have a dorm mate who was easy to like.
We exchanged a few handshakes. I could swear I saw a strange twinkle in his dark brown eyes when his gaze landed on Effy's face. I mean, who could blame the guy? Effy had some sort of mysterious aura in her that was so magnetic.
"That's kind of awesome, man," exclaimed Thomas as he and Freddie got to talking. "The two of you going on exchange here in Japan?"
"Yea, well, Karen came here a semester earlier," Freddie replied. "I actually just arrived four days ago."
"He might be older but I'm sort of his personal hero." Karen gave his brother an indulgent smile. "He follows my footsteps and worships the ground I walk on."
"Very funny, sis." Freddie shot his sister a sarcastic look. Then he turned to us. "Don't listen to her. She's a delusional liar," he said with good-natured disgust. "Anyway, I have to get back to my potatoes. See you fellas around, yea?" He bobbed his head good-bye and sidled off.
When her brother was out of earshot, Karen told us, "You know, Freddie's actually a shy and ridiculously boring person. If you want to look for him, just climb up to the rooftop and you'll find him there moping by himself and staring at walls." We followed her toward the staircase. "And if you see some smoke coming out of the roof, it's not a chimney, my dears," she went on, "it's just my brother making love to his cancer sticks. And he's such a brooder. He's like a fucking vermin that hides in his catacomb as if—"
She got cut off by a loud clearing of voice from behind. We turned around and found Freddie staring down at her sister, a slightly malevolent glare on his face.
"Okay. I'm zipping it now. Bye! Love you, Freds!" Karen patted her brother's shoulder and hurried away, snapping her fingers to attract some sort of assistant. True enough, a long, shaggy-haired guy, wearing a tattered black Nirvana T-shirt and black shorts baggy enough to hang glide in, rushed to her side. "Grunwald. How many moth balls and unused condoms were you able to locate?"
"She is a little scary," I said in a small voice.
Thomas nodded. "Dreadfully scary."
"So you see, you have pretty much everything that you need here in the dorm. If y'all need booze, just knock on my door. You feel the need to be harassed, just swing by Cook's room. You want to have a moment, just go up to the rooftop deck. You need an axe? Just break into Mr. Yoshida's vault."
Fifteen minutes later we were still being shown around the dorm by the spunky, ever-animated Karen—from the laundry room to the bicycle parking lot to the mini-garden then to the floor kitchens and restrooms. I made sure to walk behind Effy; I didn't want to look like a downright perve eye-fucking her sideways. This dark-skinned gentleman, Thomas Tomone, though, was toddling beside me, being genuinely friendly. He began telling me about his dilemma between a career as a lawyer and a track and field profession. Then he went on babbling about his sport which I had zero interest in.
"We should go hiking or jogging some time," he told me eagerly. "I usually run an average of four miles a day but with company, I could settle with half."
Two miles? I almost collapsed just thinking about it.
"Erm . . ." I forced myself to sound pleasant and just-as-excited. "Yea, we totally should. It sounds fun."
It was enjoyable the first five minutes but this guy was a sadist. In a just world, he would be locked up. Thomas was a danger to himself and to the community—me in particular.
Not only was Thomas an athletic person, he talked constantly. The guy had more information than Wikipedia. And he was determined to share every shred of it with me.
Fifteen minutes later we were still being shown around the dorm by the spunky, ever-animated Karen—from the laundry room to the bicycle parking lot to the mini-garden then to the floor kitchens and restrooms. I made sure to walk behind Effy; I didn't want to look like a downright perve eye-fucking her sideways. This dark-skinned gentleman, Thomas Tomone, though, was toddling beside me, being genuinely friendly. He began telling me about his dilemma between a career as a lawyer and a track and field profession. Then he went on babbling about his sport which I had zero interest in.
"We should go hiking or jogging some time," he told me eagerly. "I usually run an average of four miles a day but with company, I could settle with half."
Two miles? I almost collapsed just thinking about it.
"Erm . . ." I forced myself to sound pleasant and just-as-excited. "Yea, we totally should. It sounds fun."
It was enjoyable the first five minutes but this guy was a sadist. In a just world, he would be locked up. Thomas was a danger to himself and to the community—me in particular.
Not only was Thomas an athletic person, he talked constantly. The guy had more information than Wikipedia. And he was determined to share every shred of it with me.
The plus side? I got to learn some bits of info about my dorm mates without the effort of asking them personally. I eventually found out that Karen was indeed French and it was her second and, sadly, last semester in Hamada University. Both Effy and Thomas were Americans—Effy from West Palm Beach, Florida, and Thomas from Washington, DC.
This girl Elizabeth Stonem was a complete mystery to me, though. Thomas was tirelessly exposing her and her life to everyone whilst she only kept schtum, only responding with a little nod or a mysterious smirk. Who's not-so-Oprah now, huh?
It was really good that Thomas was very amicable and loquacious (for a lad) as I didn't have to open my mouth to ask questions about him and Effy. Apparently, he and Effy go to the same university and were good friends so then I understood that he had willingly stepped in to act as Effy's spokesperson because he was already aware that the brunette didn't really fancy talking.
This girl Elizabeth Stonem was a complete mystery to me, though. Thomas was tirelessly exposing her and her life to everyone whilst she only kept schtum, only responding with a little nod or a mysterious smirk. Who's not-so-Oprah now, huh?
It was really good that Thomas was very amicable and loquacious (for a lad) as I didn't have to open my mouth to ask questions about him and Effy. Apparently, he and Effy go to the same university and were good friends so then I understood that he had willingly stepped in to act as Effy's spokesperson because he was already aware that the brunette didn't really fancy talking.
". . . and down here's my favourite floor in the entire Casa Gaijin . . ." We walked down the steps to what seemed like—
". . . the basement!" Karen finished my thoughts for me.
We were led down to a lengthy carpeted hallway of what appeared to be an incredibly spacious basement with a lounge on the left side, a women's shower room straight ahead, and a men's shower room plus a phone booth and a couple of guest toilets to the right.
Thomas headed for the men's shower room to check it out. Effy and I followed Karen down across the hall and I found myself in a fairly large shower area. There were massive full-length mirrors on the walls and a bunch of shower heads overhead. "This is our shower room," Karen said, moving her hands in a sweeping gesture. "I know the number of mirrors seems a bit narcissistic but I find it useful. I like watching myself take a shower, you know."
I nodded, taking in the sink, marble counter, toiletry cabinet across the sink area, the towel racks lining the wall. "Very cosy," I said. "Where do we shower?"
"This is the shower area."
I felt my heart stop. She had to be kidding. "Yes, but where are the stalls? Where are the shower curtains?"
Karen's mouth tightened a fraction of an inch. "There are none. This is a communal shower, Emily," she said, pulling me to the middle of the wide tiled floor. "It's actually very fun. We get to have nude drinking parties . . . compare one another's lady parts . . ."
"You're not serious."
"Hunny, but I am." Karen gave me a lascivious wink. "Can I get a sneak peek?" She put her arm around me and made a mock peek into the inside of my grey tank by tugging the neckline and laughed out loud. I gently ducked out from beneath Karen's arm and stepped back, blushing furiously. She only went on laughing. As I turned for the door, I bumped into a tall girl. A naked tall, olive-skinned girl.
"Oh, hey there," the gigantic girl said in an amused voice, steadying me at arm's length.
"H-hi," I stuttered, sucking air. I wrenched my gaze from her bare chest which was directly in front of me.
Good thing our very brief conversation was interrupted by Karen, who breezed over and draped her arm on the tall girl's shoulder. "This is Mandy. She's from Mumbai," Karen casually offered as an introduction. "Mandy, this is Emily and Effy. They're new like you."
"So nice to meet you two," Mandy said, stretching out a long arm.
My stomach clenched. This was too much. Toooo much. I had to get out.
"I think I've explored enough," I hastily said, moving quickly toward the door. "Bye!"
"It was lovely running into you, Emily!" I heard Mandy call after my retreating back. "You've got pretty hair!"
Fucking hell. Time to take off. I rocketed forward like I'd been shot from a cannon and just carried on hurtling out the door back to the hallway.
"Oh, my God." I rushed to Thomas's side and took a sec to get my breathing back to normal. This was overload. I couldn't even pinpoint if it was overload of awesomeness or overload of weirdness. All I knew was I had never felt this overwhelmed before.
"So what do you think of the dorm so far?" Thomas asked, grinning widely at me.
I gave my best deadpan expression. "Why is my life like an episode of Jersey Shore all so suddenly?"
Thomas's reply was a roar of loud, hearty laughter. I smiled. It was good to have a new, appreciative audience. The best reaction my jokes got from my very few friends and sister were snarls and eye rolling.
When he had finally sobered, Thomas clapped me on the back. "Hey, I'm glad to have met you here," he said happily. "You're cool and cutesy."
"You're pretty cool yourself, Thomas," I replied, giving him a friendly pat on the arm.
When the four of us had regrouped outside, Karen guided us back down the basement hallway. Every single thing just looked so sleek and expensive, I was afraid to touch anything. The walls were beautified by abstract art pieces that looked like they belonged to Musée du Louvre. There were various statues of samurais and geishas with bendy arms. There was also a carving in the shape of a painfully large willy — stylish.
"Man, this place is amazing!" Thomas being very vocal (for a lad) as usual. He was right, and then, just as we thought the dorm couldn’t get more amazing, it did.
"And . . . la dernière mais pas la moindre . . ." Karen dramatically opened a two-way steel door with a smug smirk. ". . . here's my favourite room—the lounge!"
We entered a swanky room that made my eyes bulge and my jaw drop to the fucking floor. "Bloody Nora" was the overall consensus. The room had all the things I would need to entertain myself for the whole ten months.
There was a mini-library in the far left corner; a computer area with fast-speed internet connection directly to my left; in the far right corner was a huge plasma TV with Nintendo Wii and PlayStation 3 game sets resting chaotically below it; comfy couches, long wooden tables, and several chairs were peppered around the middle part of the room; and to my immediate right stood a sleek black Yamaha grand piano.
There was a mini-library in the far left corner; a computer area with fast-speed internet connection directly to my left; in the far right corner was a huge plasma TV with Nintendo Wii and PlayStation 3 game sets resting chaotically below it; comfy couches, long wooden tables, and several chairs were peppered around the middle part of the room; and to my immediate right stood a sleek black Yamaha grand piano.
"C'est sympa, non?" Karen enthused. "Very cool, yea?"
A blissful sigh escaped my lips. Okay. I am really falling in love with this place. A small yet very thrilled smile curved my mouth, deciding that this place shall be my refuge every night.
I was still grinning like a schoolgirl when I stepped outside, closing the steel doors of the lounge carefully behind me. I turned round on my heel and my attention was caught by a tall, blond girl with her back to me, talking—no, more like arguing—with someone on the phone at the phone booth. She sounded incredibly upset and I wanted to make sure if she was all right so I took a step toward her but thought better and stopped almost immediately. "Nosy cow" was not the impression I wanted to make.
"I can't believe you used your parents to get through me. That's pretty fucking pathetic," the girl spat into the receiver.
I grabbed that chance to study the blonde. She was wearing a black and orange button-down plaid flannel shirt, a pair of washed-out denim cut-offs and comfy black flip-flops. When she slightly changed the angle of her body in the heat of the phone convo, I noticed that her top was open at the collar, revealing just enough of her chest to make me wonder what the rest looked like. Her left arm which was making all these violent gestures whilst she spat into the receiver had these beaded bangles at the wrist. If she didn't have such fair skin, I would have assumed she was a beach babe. She looked so chilled and stunning. Plus the fact that she had uber-long legs only made her look more of a knockout. If my best friend Cassie were here, I would have made signs of fainting and phwoarr faces. My loony friend just understood the pervy me. Here's a fact: Blondes are my weakness. Which was funny because all the girls I went out with in the past were dark-haired and they—
"Emily!" Thomas hollered at me. "C'mon, we're checking out the rooftop!" Shit. I forgot I was still on this 'trip'.
Startled, the blonde whipped her head around toward me and—Oh. My. Freaking. Sweet. Jesus. Take. The. Wheel—my gaze was suddenly met by a different set of blue orbs—a pair that had effortlessly released ten thousand butterflies in my stomach, a pair that had caused my knees to extraordinarily wobble, a pair that had made my heart skip a beat again and again with each blink. They were an amazing bright blue, and they were staring right at me.
Striking. Just strikingly beautiful. And studying her entire face—her bright blue eyes, her perfect skin, her slender nose, her luscious lips, her sideswept long peroxide blond locks with an effortless finish—"Wow" was all I could manage to internally say. "Wow," I repeated, now in whisper. God did exist.
Oh, my sweet Lord, I thought, blinking in utter bewilderment. I am now officially in love with this place.
"Hey, Emily!" I was brought back to my awkward self by Thomas. I felt like I was in a trance. It appeared as if this dazzling blue-eyed girl and I had a staring contest for only a brief ten seconds but those precious ten fucking seconds unshackled an ex-cryptic feeling that, for the life of me, I never imagined I actually possessed.
I noticed the blonde's grip on the receiver tightening a bit before my eyes awkwardly darted to Thomas who was looking slightly intrigued and amused by the unfolding scene before his eyes. I heard the blonde talk back brusquely into the phone, "Huh? Nah. What? What did you say? Jesus," she stammered, "uhhhm — I was just — uhh — ah . . ."
Hot damn. Even her stuttering voice was dreamy. Wait. She's stuttering? I wondered if she felt it too. Um. Felt what too? I instantly shook the wishful thoughts away.
No shot, Emsy. There was no way I could snag a girl like her. She was too cool for me. And she could be straight as an arrow.
Hot damn. Even her stuttering voice was dreamy. Wait. She's stuttering? I wondered if she felt it too. Um. Felt what too? I instantly shook the wishful thoughts away.
No shot, Emsy. There was no way I could snag a girl like her. She was too cool for me. And she could be straight as an arrow.
My feet shifted to Thomas's direction and I shuffled toward him almost zombie-like, my mind swirling in stupefaction of that brief encounter with a certain blue-eyed blonde and trying to figure out why the hell these butterflies were still doing somersaults in my tummy. I glanced back at her over my shoulder. Daaamn. I have to say, she even makes plaid flannel sexy.
Still walking with my gaze fixed on the girl behind me, I stupidly tripped over something and fell forward. Good thing Thomas was standing there, his arms ready to keep me from falling face first for the bazillionth time today.
"Oh, wow," Thomas gasped. "You okay, Emily?" He took my hips to help me regain my own balance. "There . . ."
I stood up straight, chucking a little from the embarrassment. "I have a ridiculously shitty sense of balance. It's annoying."
"Maybe you wind up getting knocked off your feet whenever you get near new people?" Thomas raised his brows teasingly.
I blushed. "Maybe." Near hot girls, you mean, I corrected mentally.
Thomas laughed then offered his arm which I took wordlessly. "All right, Twinkletoes, let's go. And make sure you're holding on to my arm. Firmly."
Just before we start up the staircase, I sneaked a glance at the blonde again. All fine and delicate features, perfect as porcelain. Knocked off my feet wasn't even the word for it. Swept off my feet was the perfect description.
Really, though, why did this place have to be overflowing with Beauties?
Why?
Still walking with my gaze fixed on the girl behind me, I stupidly tripped over something and fell forward. Good thing Thomas was standing there, his arms ready to keep me from falling face first for the bazillionth time today.
"Oh, wow," Thomas gasped. "You okay, Emily?" He took my hips to help me regain my own balance. "There . . ."
I stood up straight, chucking a little from the embarrassment. "I have a ridiculously shitty sense of balance. It's annoying."
"Maybe you wind up getting knocked off your feet whenever you get near new people?" Thomas raised his brows teasingly.
I blushed. "Maybe." Near hot girls, you mean, I corrected mentally.
Thomas laughed then offered his arm which I took wordlessly. "All right, Twinkletoes, let's go. And make sure you're holding on to my arm. Firmly."
Just before we start up the staircase, I sneaked a glance at the blonde again. All fine and delicate features, perfect as porcelain. Knocked off my feet wasn't even the word for it. Swept off my feet was the perfect description.
Really, though, why did this place have to be overflowing with Beauties?
Why?
"God, I'm such a loser!" I muttered, smacking myself on the forehead, broadcasting my thoughts to the people around me. Nothing like making a memorable entrance. If one more thing went wrong, I was flying back to Bristol. Fuckem, to hell with it all.
It wasn't an entirely honest thought. True, I wasn't really ecstatic about the idea of making a complete fool or spectacle out of myself for the whole ten months, but I was definitely looking forward to experiencing new things. And meeting this blue-eyed blonde. The realisation provoked a flutter of excitement in my chest.
I looked around me and found that everyone had gone back to their normal lives—some were heading for the laundry room, some were making lunch, some were chatting about their new phones and bicycles, some were flirting with other people. At least I made it through a few awkward moments. Maybe I could survive all this after all.
I just had to take each triumph as it came—large or small.
The four of us went up to the topmost floor which was also my floor and walked along the corridor. Room 412, I shall soon make you my home sweet home, I thought excitedly as we passed by my room. Karen directed us to a short flight of stairs just next to the fire exit and let slip that there was a forbidden rooftop deck just above the spot we were standing on but unfortunately we couldn't climb up because Mr. Yoshida had the key. We all groaned in disappointment, but then Karen let out a crazy-sounding laughter and whispered to us, "But on s'en fout! I'm Karen McClair and I don't have 'forbidden' in my vocabulary." With a wink, she assured us that we would all soon get to climb up there for a welcome toast. You gotta love the attitude on this girl sometimes.
Going down the stairs, I crossed paths with the creature with the mound of hair again a.k.a. Karen's pushover. He grinned at me as if he knew something about me which was ridiculous because I haven't even met this guy. I smiled back weakly at the latitude where I imagined his eyes might be. What was going on?
We were nearing the end of our Casa Gaijin journey and my thoughts were still on the blonde beauty I had just encountered. If getting to see her enormous beauty walking around each day was a perk of waking up every morning then thank God I was alive! I was tempted to ask Karen about her. I just wanted to get to know her right away. It was truly a mystery to me how she was able to easily knock the sanity out of me with just one look. Jesus, Emily. Could you be any more dorky? I chided myself as I recalled our awkward encounter in the basement. I must have appeared totally lame; I couldn't even manage to say hi to her or grant her a warm smile at least. I was such a stupid twat. Fuck fuck fuckitydoody fuck fuck fuck.
But I was sure I would see her again. I was sure I would—
But I was sure I would see her again. I was sure I would—
Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. There she was. The blonde was there, stood near the vending machine with a mug in her hand. Stood in all her gorgeous glory—with her gorgeous black tank top, with her gorgeous skimpy denim shorts, with her gorgeous lush blond hair, and with her fucking gorgeous smirk . . . and she's looking straight at me. The teenage boys in my knickers were struggling to hop out. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod—
"EMILAAAAAY!" I heard someone howl. "Emily Fitch, nineteen, a redhead rosspot from Bristol! Fit Fitch, indeed, hah!"
I turned around and cringed. A dirty-blond-haired lad with a boyish grin and a can of beer clutched in his hand swung down the stairs Tarzan style and came dashing toward me with outstretched arms.
I turned around and cringed. A dirty-blond-haired lad with a boyish grin and a can of beer clutched in his hand swung down the stairs Tarzan style and came dashing toward me with outstretched arms.
I forced a smile and let him squeeze me. What the fuck? I was sure I'd never met this guy.
He then lifted me up with his bony arms and foolishly shook me as if I were a stuffed Teletubby. Then, he failed-charmingly asked me, "Where've ya been all my focking life, Emily Fitch? The Cookie Monster was anxiously waiting for ya! I had to pull the skagdick off meself after I saw ya in my focking dreams last night." He waggled his tongue whilst grasping some parts of his anatomy known only to his andrologist when he uttered 'Cookie Monster'.
I gave him a weirded-out look. "Uhh . . ." Maybe this was some sort of initiation. Maybe these people were playing some kind of horrible joke on me. Maybe this was only a dream. Any minute I was going to wake up and . . .
"Cook. James Cook, at yer service, darling." But the guy with the crooked grin in front of me seemed very real. "I'm here to help ye have the time of yer li-i-i-i-iiiife." He gave a gentlemanly bow with his pants hanging so low, exposing his familiar butt crack which made me realise he was the bloke with the tattooed arse. Eugh.
Karen reappeared. "He's here to continuously molest you with his eyes and brag about a non-existent monster. He's an annoying pervert and walking on very thin ice." She gave Cook a stern look and vanished.
"The Boss runs a tight headquarters," Cook explained. "An' I'm kind of a loose sort of guy."
I stared at him. "I can see that." I held back an urge to shoot him a look of disgust. Cook must be Irish. No. I was certain he was Irish. His tone and choice of words gave it all away. Fucking pervert Irish drunkard, I thought as he looked down at me with a puckish full voltage grin. Perhaps he had a barrel of ale for breakfast and lunch.
"My, my, dear Jaysus . . ." Cook squinted at me and let out a low, appreciative whistle. "So . . . are the rumours true, Emily babes? Ye look pretty prim an' proper, but I think there's more than meets the eye with ye, yea?" He folded his arms which made his bad-ass arm tattoos more noticeable.
I looked at him. What did he mean? I could feel myself go red.
Cook's head was bobbing with amusement. "Lady on the streets, a banging tigress under the sheets? Are we correct? Help me here, love, 'cos that's what this brain of mine is tellin' me."
I froze, staring at the bloke for a moment with my mouth hanging open. What the fuck?! So that was my image? It was bad enough that I had been getting all this attention, but to have that slutty impression was too horrible. And certainly not something I would like to stick to me.
"Oh, come on, babes. Don't be a tease." Cook snickered, putting his arms around me. "You could confirm or deny. But the hair doesn't lie."
Another boy—about six-feet tall with a shaved head, light skin, broad shoulders, well-muscled chest, and dark eyes rimmed with thick, black lashes—appeared behind him. "I apologise deeply for Cook's behaviour. He's just naturally like that. A creeper, that is," he said with good-natured disgust. "I'm Sean, by the way. Sean Harris. 100% Canadian beef." He offered me an apologetic smile and awkwardly extended a hand. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, just like the other ones I met here.
I let out a small laugh, feeling myself ease up a bit. "Yea, yea, I'm sure he is," I said, shaking his hand. "I'm Emily. Emily Fitch . . . but, erm, I guess you all have done an investigation about that already."
With a flirty smirk and mildly predatory smile, Sean only nodded. And I felt a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. What is going on here? Why do I suddenly feel so exposed?
Cook let me out of his hold, making me visibly relax, and laughed. "Ye're a big, fat cockblock, Seanski! Fock ya!" he cried, giving his friend a flippant punch in the arm. Then his eyes grew big as a cute Asian girl passed by. "Oooh la la, will ya look at that booty on that bird!" He edged out of the tiny circle we had formed. "Gotta take care of some Cookie Monster biz. Catch youse later." Luckily for me Cook had instantly found himself some other girl to bug and he had disappeared just like that.
I studied Sean's appearance. "Must be some pretty good workout, eh?"
He had obviously just come from doing some rigorous activity under the sun. His white manktop and basketball shorts were soaked with sweat. "I had been juggling on the empty parking lot nearby," he acknowledged.
"That's awesome. I play football, too."
He drew back a little. "Wow. A bit surprising, I must say," he said, sizing me up. "I mean, you don't strike me as the athletic chick type."
"Looks can be deceiving," I answered lightly.
"And so it seems," he said, smiling goonily. Then he wiped his palms on the front of his shorts, as if he were shy and a little nervous. "By the way, I gave you a perfect 10."
"A 10?" I repeated in a puzzled voice.
"The score I gave you. Really high, considering that I haven't met you yet. But now that I've seen your in-the-flesh version, you do deserve the perfect score." He gave a flirty grin.
I cleared my throat and wondered if I looked as dumb as I felt. None of this was making any sense at all. "Please tell me what's going on here, Sean."
Double luckily Sean then divulged some details and it appeared that there was a folder of the profiles of the new residents in the dorm manager's office and Cook sneakily
"So, yes," the tall guy admitted with a crooked grin, "we were really looking forward to the arrival of a cute redhead. And let me just say, I'm not disappointed."
I felt stunned and slightly sick. This was just too flattering for my own good. I was sure I had gone red in the face again. But I didn't want to fully give off that 'I'm into cocks' vibe so I only ignored Sean's cajoling and busied myself with looking around and flapping my arms. Maybe if I kept on ignoring him, he would go away.
All this male attention was flattering, but I didn't really fancy any of them. It was a chore spending time with people I wasn't interested in.
All this male attention was flattering, but I didn't really fancy any of them. It was a chore spending time with people I wasn't interested in.
Luckily that gave me all the more time to stare without getting caught. Unluckily the moment I realised this, she looked over and caught me checking her out.
Busted, I thought. But instead of getting all flustered, I ventured a tiny smile. The blonde lifted her eyebrows and turned up the corners of her lips noncommittally. Then biting her bottom lip, she eyed me more intently and I was frozen right then and there. "Gaping idiot" was the second impression I didn’t want to make.
I ducked my head and stared at the wall, pretending to be studying a poster about a baby crying festival, until Karen started calling my name. "Emily! Emily Fitch!"
Karen must have noticed the slight interaction between me and the blonde. "Emily, hey!" She waved at me, motioning for me to join them. Them. Her and the blonde beauty. I think my heart just stopped beating.
My stomach gave a little squeeze. Stay calm, I ordered myself as I walked blindly toward them. No need to get all worked up. She wasn't the hottest girl I'd ever seen or anything. Right.
"Hi, erm . . ." That was all I had managed to blurt out. I gave them a measly little smile and fought the impulse to grin and scream like I had hit the goddamn jackpot. She was right in front of me and I was about to meet her!
"Emily, this is Naomi." Karen made the introductions. "Naomi, Emily. Emily's new here too." My stomach was turning as if it had been shoved into a fucking blender from all the excitement.
The blonde dipped her head and eyed me. "Hey," she said in a flat tone.
I could have frozen a side of beef in her tone, but that didn't stop the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up and the blood to move quickly south at the sound of her voice. I gave her my friendliest smile and extended a hand, pretending she sounded as glad to meet me as I was of her. "Nice to meet you, Naomi."
She seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat before slipping her palm into my own. Grasping her hand, I felt the sensation of our touch in every nerve in my body. Her fingers were long and tapered, looking like they could weave magic. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn her skin was velvet. "Yea," she echoed flatly. Yet, the way her blue eyes pierced me made my heart stutter.
Fuck me. I hope I didn't say that out loud.
Naomi. Hmmm . . . What a perfect name. An absolutely perfect name. I could rename all the fairies on the earth Naomi. I could rename all the mermaids in the sea Naomi. And I could definitely rename all the angels in heaven Naomi. At my own words, my eyes almost rolled back in my head. Wow. I didn't even know I could be this abnormally mushy. But could you blame me? The eyes, the nose, the mouth—everything shifts into perfect balance.
My daydreaming got interrupted by a clearing of throat from Naomi. Fuck. Say something, you idiot. You're probably creeping her out already. She was looking at me with a curious raised brow.
Damn, she was gorgeous. Fitter than anyone I'd ever known. I'd clearly been spending too much time with books and fiction and Marilyn Monroe fantasies. The second her gaze met mine, my brain cells deserted me, leaving me high and dry without a single coherent thought I could latch on to so I didn't look like a complete idiot standing in front of her.
Karen excused herself saying she had to talk to a Japanese buddy. That left me and Naomi alone. When Naomi took out her phone from the pocket of her skimpy shorts and began busying herself with texting, I took this opportunity to feast on her again. Her face was smooth, almost begging for me to stroke a hand along her cheek. Also, she was taller than I thought she was and had curves in all the right places. My God. Is she even real?
As we stood rooted to the spot like a couple of posts, all I was aware of was her soft breathing and her smell—sweet shampoo and something else, some deeply sexy lotion. I felt the tingling inside my stomach spread like fire through my chest and up my face. I hoped she couldn’t see my chest heaving 'cos my heart was tap-dancing like a demented squirrel.
I knew I was supposed to say something here. Tell her about how I was looking forward to spending a school year with her and planning some mad nights out only to sound cool. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Naomi lifted her mug of coffee to her mouth, tilted it, and drank. I watched the up-and-down movement of her throat and followed the shape of her jaw to the contour of her lips. She had a very kissable mouth, I decided. Feminine and perfectly shaped. I wondered how those lips would feel like against mine. They must be soft and—
"Do you want something?" the blonde asked, her perfectly plucked brows raised. I hadn't realised I had been staring at her lips like a complete creepster. I had to remind myself to breathe.
I swallowed. "W-what?"
"I said, do you want something?" Her brows went higher.
"What?" I could feel my cheeks turning crimson. I tore my eyes away from her face and stretched my neck to study the drinks inside the vending machine behind her. "Y-yes. I mean, not—not from you. But . . . but, erm," I bit my bottom lip, scrambling for a legit excuse, "the Van Houten hot choco's out of stock. Arse." I made a disappointed face, hoping my acting worked on her.
The blonde shook her head and scoffed, yet looking all sorts of sexy. "You were staring at me."
Busted. "What? No!" I let out a nervous laugh. "N-no. No. I was just wondering . . . about your drink. It smells wonderful." I gave myself a mental slap as I realised what I had just said. Shut your gob, Emily, a tiny voice nagged. My face grew even hotter, if that was possible. I had suddenly lost my ability to articulate words.
She gave me a what-are-you-from-the-moon? look.
I realised that Naomi was testy with strangers, but I've been told many times by a ton of people that I was one of the sweetest girls they knew. I had no doubt Naomi would soften toward me as soon as she got to know me. "What is it?" I asked politely, pointedly eyeing her drink.
"Brought the coffee here with me straight from home. I don't drink imported ones," she replied with a cute accent that was enough to make me go off.
She gave me a what-are-you-from-the-moon? look.
I realised that Naomi was testy with strangers, but I've been told many times by a ton of people that I was one of the sweetest girls they knew. I had no doubt Naomi would soften toward me as soon as she got to know me. "What is it?" I asked politely, pointedly eyeing her drink.
"Brought the coffee here with me straight from home. I don't drink imported ones," she replied with a cute accent that was enough to make me go off.
"Yay to nationalism, eh?" I gave a tentative grin in what I hoped was an endearing way.
Naomi's upper lip curled sourly. "Nope. It just bothers me to think that all those beans were picked by some poor South American peasant who only gets pennies a day." She eyed the vending machine like it was the filthiest thing she'd ever seen.
My smile wobbled a bit. "Oh. Right," I said, toying with my silver necklace with trembling fingers. "But you make it sound so awful. I thought Juan Valdez and his donkey were just a logo."
She flashed a quick, sneering smile and nodded. "Yea, that's just the sort of viewpoint I'd expect from someone who's probably never gotten a single blister or even broken a nail doing hard labour."
My mouth dropped open slightly. I tried to get a glimpse of her eyes to see if she was serious or only teasing. But judging from her set jaw, though, she'd meant what she said.
"It was just a joke," I said softly. But inside my head, I wanted to cry, What makes you think you can tell me off like that? You don't even know me, hun.
For a moment no one said anything. I dipped my head, watched the toes on my right foot rub against the fuzzy slipper back and forth, and tried not to glance at Naomi as she drank her coffee.
In a final effort to break the ice, I spoke into the uncomfortable silence, forcing a bright tone into my voice as if I hadn't been affected at all by her unfriendliness. "So, uhm . . . w-where are you from, Naomi?" I stammered, my hand nervously clutching at the hem of my skirt. Smooth, Emily. So fucking smooth. I gave myself another mental slap.
For a moment no one said anything. I dipped my head, watched the toes on my right foot rub against the fuzzy slipper back and forth, and tried not to glance at Naomi as she drank her coffee.
In a final effort to break the ice, I spoke into the uncomfortable silence, forcing a bright tone into my voice as if I hadn't been affected at all by her unfriendliness. "So, uhm . . . w-where are you from, Naomi?" I stammered, my hand nervously clutching at the hem of my skirt. Smooth, Emily. So fucking smooth. I gave myself another mental slap.
"Melbourne," she replied nonchalantly.
Aussie babe, I thought dizzily. Mmmm . . . That answers her obvious minimalist taste in fashion. Okay. I should quit all the daydreaming and start having a decent conversation with her. Besides, this could be my first shot to impress her.
I grinned in spite of my speedy pulse. "Cool." I was struck down with monosyllabic lockjaw. Why couldn’t I ever say the coolest thing? Why was I such a dweeb?
She raised her eyebrows and snorted. "Um. Not so cool, actually."
She's a smart arse. I like that. I looked at her . . . then realised I was staring at her lips again. I focused on the Aquarius bottle above her right shoulder.
"Yea, I've heard," I managed to say coolly, in spite of the beads of sweat running down my sides. "But, erm, don't go moping around, mine's worse."
"Fucking British weather, yea," agreed Naomi. Her tone was less harsh, but she made no effort to encourage conversation. Instead, she kept on drinking her coffee.
Okay. So she checked out my profile, too. Great. Now we won't be able to talk about my age, my uni, and whatever else was on that profile. Just fucking great. Eyeing her, I could already see that dealing with this chick was going to be a lot like butting heads with a bull.
Well, I knew exactly how to handle a bull. First lesson, tame it with gentleness and sweetness and fluffiness and patience.
Smirking, I cocked a teasing eye at her. "Clearly, you've done a little research yourself, eh?"
With that, those blue eyes quickly turned to ice. The blonde chuckled derisively, shook her head incredulously, and with an icy tone she enlightened me, "Hunny, I hate to break it to you, but you ain't that special." She necked her coffee, folded her arms in a defensive gesture and was instantly back to her usual glacial self.
Fail. The shit had hit me square in the face. With a shudder at the sound of her voice, I stared up at her, too flustered and embarrassed to speak.
Silence covered the air between us, as thick and uncomfortable as those wool sweaters my mum used to knit every Christmas. God, what was wrong with this girl? Was she sent over to be a dorm mate from hell with a tongue like a poisonous snake's?
For a moment her ice-cold blue eyes locked with mine. Feeling totally self-conscious and humiliated, I dropped my attention to my feet again. Fucking hell, someone kill me now, I silently begged, making a circle with the toe of my slipper. Ground, eat me now. Please—
Silence covered the air between us, as thick and uncomfortable as those wool sweaters my mum used to knit every Christmas. God, what was wrong with this girl? Was she sent over to be a dorm mate from hell with a tongue like a poisonous snake's?
For a moment her ice-cold blue eyes locked with mine. Feeling totally self-conscious and humiliated, I dropped my attention to my feet again. Fucking hell, someone kill me now, I silently begged, making a circle with the toe of my slipper. Ground, eat me now. Please—
Slowly, the loud chatter began to die away.
My breathing returned to normal. Karen, I fucking love you right now! I could kiss you. I sighed in relief. Way to diminish the growing tension. Whew.
Then the brunette jumped onto a leather couch and addressed the lot. "Party later at Keith's Pub. Buy one take one on beers! That's a mate rate for y'all so I better see all your pretty arses there tonight, all right? It is imperative that you come to this very rare," she faked a cough, "social gathering and that you follow any and all the instructions given by your fabulous dorm buddies and, of course, the Boss." She hitched a thumb toward herself. "This is for your own good, ladies and gents. Thank you for your cooperation and I will keep you informed."
The lounge boomed with hysterical laughter. Good God, this girl sure knew how to work a room.
"Allons nous saouler, yea!" Karen shouted through the bullhorn before jumping off the couch.
Everyone at the lobby cheered for the last time. Over the hellacious noise, Naomi's mobile phone suddenly rang and she dug it again from the pocket of her shorts. She hesitated before answering and stared at the ringing phone like it was a twatty boy. I urged myself to look somewhere else as if I weren't paying any attention.
"What is it that you want?" I heard Naomi ask stonily. "Aren't you tired of hassling me?"
I sneaked a glance at her because her response sounded so hostile. Even more unpleasant than the way she was treating me. This person must've given the blonde some serious shit.
Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were compressed flat together. "Uh-huh," she said into the phone. "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh." Her eyes got small and glittery, and she wrinkled her nose, causing little squint lines to appear between her brows. "Let me tell you where it all went wrong, you fucking cockhead. It went wrong the minute you sucked face with that mole. Now, would you mind never calling me again?" she said in a hissing whisper. Then she heatedly pressed a button on her phone and shoved it back into her pocket. "Fucking asshat. Unh," she grunted, leaning against the vending machine and crossing her arms over her chest. She was white with rage.
My brows were raised in concern when the blonde threw an irritable glance in my direction. When she saw the look on my face, she only rolled her eyes and scoffed all the more.
Just to avoid further awkwardness, I forced my eyes to wander around so that I could find myself something to shift my attention to, or at least pretend to. I scanned the sea of faces—so many people yet to get to know. I saw Cook give Karen a quick, sloppy kiss on the lips making the Frenchie wipe her mouth frenziedly in repugnance, looking like she was about to throw up in her mouth. Eurgh. I feel you, Karen, I sympathised silently, with a grimace of my own. I feel you.
I peered outside the glass doors and spotted Freddie smoking with a tanned, brawny Italian-looking guy and that pushover lad in the Nirvana shirt who looked like a cross between Cousin It from Addams Family and Shaggy on Scooby Doo. I shifted my gaze back to Freddie and observed the strange similarity between him and Karen—their eyes, skin tone, even their French-accented English. I should've guessed they were somehow related at first glance.
The lads probably noticed me glancing over at them so Freddie gestured for me to come over to them. I acknowledged him with a shy smile and a nod.
Then I turned around for some closure with the sarcastic blonde, but was surprised to see that she was already gone. With only my eyes I searched for her around the lobby but she was nowhere to be found.
Fucking Naomi, I thought, my timid smile blooming into a silly little grin. So she hadn’t exactly swept me off my feet and promised to be my knight in shining armour. But she had noticed me. And talked to me. And I even made her nervous. I think. That was interesting.
Being attracted to a chick like her was a nightmare a girl like me probably couldn't handle.
Fucking Naomi.
I was going to come over Freddie's lot to say hi but got too overwhelmed by the unnecessary attention these people had been giving me. So instead I wheeled to head for the staircase, wondering how I was going to start unpacking when my body was humming in private places and my mind was filled with erotic thoughts of Naomi. On my way scrambling up the stairs, I suddenly remembered my huge luggage and holdall that had been standing prettily in the lobby. Abruptly I spun around, bumped into Effy, again, and had momentarily lost my balance, but Effy's hands came up around my waist to steady me against the rail.
"Uh-huh." The brunette nodded her head, but a knowing smirk came to her lips. "Are you okay? You look kinda dopey."
"I'm fine. Thanks," I answered breathlessly. And I definitely wasn't dopey, I thought. In fact, I was pretty smart. I'd figured out that Naomi was just one of those people who put up walls. Now all I had to do was figure out how to tear them down.
Word count: 12,820
Fucking Naomi.
Being attracted to a chick like her was a nightmare a girl like me probably couldn't handle.
Fucking Naomi.
She might be a total pain in the arse, but I think she just stole my heart.
"You seem to have this weird propensity for losing balance, huh?"
I blushed furiously. "Must be the first day nerves."
"Uh-huh." The brunette nodded her head, but a knowing smirk came to her lips. "Are you okay? You look kinda dopey."
"I'm fine. Thanks," I answered breathlessly. And I definitely wasn't dopey, I thought. In fact, I was pretty smart. I'd figured out that Naomi was just one of those people who put up walls. Now all I had to do was figure out how to tear them down.
Word count: 12,820
