It was a new year at Buttercombe Academy for Growing Girls, and the halls had mere hours ago been filled with the hustling and bustling of hundreds of new and returning students, carrying their cases and chatting as they found their new homes away from home for the next year. But as the halls receded into silence, a sudden voice shattered it.
“Oh no! Oh no no no no! Not on my first day! I can’t be late!” Came a sudden high-pitched voice as a single newbie scampered this way and that through the halls, which had now otherwise become utterly devoid of students.
“I don’t know these halls! Where is it!” The girl whimpered to herself as she ran, dragging a large pink case behind herself. This was Zahara Stevens, and she was late.
“I told Dad not to take a shortcut, not today!” The girl reminded herself, remembering how her dad had decided to take a shortcut up a road even more obscure and remote than the one that actually lead to the academy. Now, after giving her parents a rushed goodbye and grabbing her keys, Zahara was already lost.
“Ugh! I am like one of those lead girls in those Japanese cartoons Karen watches!” Zahara exasperated, remembering the anime her bestie back at home was obsessed with. “Hi, I’m Zahara! It's my first day at Buttercombe Academy! And I am late! Weee!” the tardy girl joked to herself, mimicking the crazy always late main character stereotype of those kinds of shows.
Despite her jubilant jokes and silliness, Zahara did not slow down in her search for her room.
“Nope”
“Nu-uh”
“No”
“Wait! Aha!” Zahara cried out as she finally made it! “A-062, thank GAWD!” Zahara puffed as she beeped her card across the scanner and used her card-holding hand to push the door open. Dumping her wheeled suitcase to the ground, Zahara put her hands to her knees to catch her breath. She was not exactly unfit, just not used to running around like a maniac for ages.
Gathering her strength, Zahara picked her case back up and wheeled it out of the way. Casually glancing around the massive room; her dorm was a high ceilinged room with extravagant lights, a kitchen to her left and a very large tv and just as obnoxiously large couch set in front of it. To the back of the room was a pair of doors, giving the room a T shape; and settled by the left door was an empty suitcase. Of course her roommate had gotten here before her, it would have taken an extraordinary act of tardiness to be later than Zahara was.
Making sure she made the best impression, Zahara went over to the kitchen and spied a metal toaster. Using the metals reflection she double checked her appearance. Zahara smoothed down the stray hairs that had sprung up, returning her hair to its usual look; a smooth medium length doo with thick curly tips that brushed her shoulders. Her round face that sat on the line between pretty and cute was still had her perfectly applied makeup aligned; no smudges here. She then raised her thin extremely dark-brown arms to “plump-up” her curly locks, letting them bounce and then settle.
“Perfect” she told her reflection before taking a deep breath and walked up to the occupied dorm room. “Ok, it’s just your roomie, no need to worry, just someone you have to spend a year with” Zahara joked to herself before raising a well-manicured hand and knocked; to be answered by...
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