#multireader

The house groans and growls as if living as the winds swirl over around it. Your eyes are heavy and achy. You close them and let yourself drift into an exhausted slumber.

You wake, warmer than you were when you fell asleep. Verbena is snug against you, her arm around your middle. Behind her, Jasmine lays with her eyes open, staring at the thick supports under the roof. Primrose sits against the wall beneath the window as she stares at her palm and traces the lines.

You gently untangle yourself from Verbena’s thrall and sit up. Primrose’s eyes list over to you. You look between her and Jasmine.

“How fare’s your ankle?” You ask the latter.

“Sore. Swolling, I think.”

You nod and look at Primrose. “We should search this place. Now that it is light.”

“Mm,” she leans forward and puts her hands on the dusty floor. She pushes herself up. “Suppose.”

You get up with her and look back at Verbena. “Will you keep an eye on her?” You ask Jasmine. She hums and siddles closer to your slumbering companion.

You go to the hatch and wait for Primrose to descend first. You follow and come down to the second floor of the house. She clucks her tongue and looks around.

“Was this down when you came in?” She touches the ladder.

“No, I lowered it.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. She spins away and cautiously walks along the planks. She stops at the first door and listens through the wood. She pushes down on the iron lever to open the latch. She eases it inward and peeks through.

She sniffs and peers back at you. “We need to be sure this place is empty.”

You back up and go to the door behind you. You do as she did, listening before you open it. You hear her grunting at the other end of the hall.

“This one’s locked. Padlock and bar.” She says.

The room before you is empty too. There’s a bed and other furniture. It’s rather nice compared to the attic floor.

“Anything?” Primrose asks.

“Nothing. No one.”

“So far,” she sighs. “Downstairs.”

You follow her. She descends the stairs at the center of the hallway. It’s still dim despite the dawn. The windows are all covered.

The house is vacant but there are signs of life. The rug is padded beneath a large oval table, there are settees and cushioned chairs and benches by two of the windows. The hearth is large enough to step into and littered with the remnants of logs and ashes.

Primrose examines the unburnt bark. She crosses her arms. You near her.

“They might have food here,” you say. “And there are beds.”

“No,” she faces you. “We cannot leave any sign we’ve been here.”

“What? It’s empty? Are we leaving? Where can we go?”

She scowls. “I don’t know that either. We’ll stay, maybe a day or more, but I’ve a feeling there are people to return to this place.”

“Oh,” you rock nervously. “But… we… can’t go home.”

“I know.” She shrugs. “We have to learn how to be without that. We have to leave ourselves behind.”

You look up at the ceiling. “We need food.”

“We do,” she agrees. “But we’ll do best not to take what isn’t ours. If this is within the archduke’s realm, well, it would be as good as stealing from his plate. We’ve already absconded his will far enough.”

You drop your shoulders. “We’ll go out and search. We might catch something. Or find some nuts? Roots?”

“You know what to look for?” She asks.

“I know what mushrooms will make us sick,” you offer.

“Good enough,” she moves her hands to her hips.

You stare at her. She is scared too but she shows it differently. You all are.

“We need to stay together,” you say. “At least for a time.”

“Yes, I suppose we should,” she resigns. “I’ll keep watch, you’ll go and find food.”

Her demanding nature is somewhat grating but you don’t know any better what to do. You don’t have any plans. It is easier for now to just do as she bids.

·༻𐫱༺·

Jasmine

“I don’t think it’s very bad,” you bend your leg and touch your ankle. It’s swollen and tender, but not broken. “A day or two?”

“Day or two?” Primrose echoes. “If we have so long.”

You frown and let your leg fall straight. You lower your chin. You didn’t mean to injure yourself. It was so dark.

“You’re being scary,” Verbena accuses.

“You should be scared,” Primrose retorts. “We should all be. Do you know that already the archduke’s men are scouring his lands? For us? And his intent will be worse than before.”

“But we did nothing?” Verbena argues. You nudge her gently. You know it doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do.

Primrose huffs and stands. She turns to look through the crack of the shutters. She drones in disappointment.

“I should’ve gone with Poppy,” Verbena says.

“And slow her down?”

“Could carry more,” Verbena counters.

“And make more noise,” Primrose snaps and turns to cross her arms.

“Well, what do we do?” You ask, frustrated.

“I don’t know,” she hisses. “This is all very… it is… men.” She curls her lips. “Men cannot be trusted.”

“My father–” Verbena starts then quiets as Primrose shoots her a glare.

You reach over to rub her arm, as much to comfort yourself as her. Your stomach is roiling with fear and hunger. If you should have to flee, you don’t know that you’ll make it as far as them. Or if they should feel obliged to help you do so.

Primrose paces back and forth. She feeds your impatience. Verbena’s stomach growls loudly. You feel your own mulching painfully.

“Can you hear that?” Verbena asks.

Primrose turns, her shoulders high and tense. “Hear what?”

“The birds. They’re singing.” Verbena cheeps.

“Birds?” Primrose snips.

A thump on the roof makes you all flinch. You look up with wide eyes and listen at the clatter overhead. There’s a sharp squeal and another clunk closer to the window, followed by banging at the shutter.

Primrose peeks between the wooden doors before then opens them. Poppy nearly falls through. She hauls with her the cloth sack. She’s breathless.

“Close, close…” she gasps and points behind her.

Primroses shuts the window and locks it. Poppy lets go of the bag and rubs her chest. She bends over to steady herself. She lifts her head slowly then looks at each of her.

“There are men, coming this way,” she whispers.

“Bugs!” Primrose exclaims.

“Where?” Verbena squirms.

You gulp and bend your leg. You hold onto your throbbing ankle. You stare at Primrose as she slaps her forehead. She stops and looks at you.

“We just have to be quiet.” She says. “They’ll pass.”

You lower your head. You should tell them to go without you. You should accept your fate, but you’re too scared to speak. Scared because you don’t think she’s right.

·༻𐫱༺·

Primrose

You peer between the shutters. You see the men approaching. They’re on horses. Two of them.

They come closer and closer, as if they know this place. You watch in dread as they guide their steeds straight to the house. They must live here. It is as you feared. You should’ve have left these women in the water.

One man has blond hair. He wears it proudly as he canters closer, his hair beaming in the sunlight. The other hides beneath a green hood. The former blusters loudly, his voice carrying up to the attic.

You turn and slide down the wall. You put your finger to your lips and signal for the others to quiet. None have made a noise since Poppy’s return.

Verbena covers the mushroom cap she’d been chewing on in her fist. You chew your cheek. She’s a nice girl but she’s not very clever. She’s the kind of lady better off with riches. Those ladies have walls and can pay for the skills they lack.

Poppy reaches to take the other women’s hands. She meets your gaze. You roll your eyes. What good is this? Cowering like pigs from the slaughter.

You listen as the men dismount outside. They continue to chatter; or rather only the one. The other doesn’t seem very interested in the conversation.

The loud thump of the bar on the front door being dropped makes you flinch. You close your eyes and focus. The doors swing inward on tight hinges. The men’s footfalls intrude and tempo through the house. Their voices are dulled by the walls still between you.

“Should air this place out. Smells like you, brother.” The same deep timbre taunts, then laughs.

Jasmine gasps and covers her mouth. You open your eyes to glare at her. These women are weak. They’re going to get you all killed. She bats her sparkling eyes and curls her shoulders.

“Very amusing,” another smoother voice returns, so flat you struggle to parse the syllables clearly.

“Ah, what fortune! We’ve ale left.”

“It must be sour.”

“Hmmmm. Not bad at all. You would do well with a stein, brother.”

“You would do well to keep your head clear,” the other snaps. He sounds like a rational man. That isn’t good for you. You don’t expect you’ll be sneaking away easily.

“The moon grows and so do my aches,” the other gripes. “I see it in you too.”

“I know,” the other growls. “I feel it.”

You furrow your brow. Why do they speak of the moon? It is not as if they are women; that they might bleed with the wax and wane of the night sky.

Poppy shares a similar confusion in her eyes. You flutter your fingers. Just stay silent.

You all stare at the floor as the men continue to move below. There’s the scraping of furniture and other sounds you can’t discern.

It would be your luck to trap yourself in another prison. You were right when you thought you should just move past it. At least, you should not have stayed through the morning.

“Did you move this?” The droller of the two asks. You twitch. You did your best not to touch anything.

“What does it matter? I’m certain one of us did,” the other deflects.

“I only… I recall… hmmm.”

You tense and dig your nails into your palms. You count your breaths. You can’t help but think of the men in your father’s house. How they searched the trunks and the shelves and the cellar. They tore it all apart, then…

You shake your head. It isn’t the time for it. No, it won’t ever do to think of it. These are different men but you don’t expect a different end.

·༻𐫱༺·

Verbena

You fidget until Poppy pokes you. You look over at her and give a sheepish smile. It falls quickly. You hear those men again. One is louder than the other and laughs a lot.

Your ears tweak as the air shifts. You peek over at the wall. Is that thunder? You hear something in the distance.

Primrose sits up and her eyes go dark. Her lips tug downward. Slowly, she shifts to her knees. She turns and puts her eye to the shutters. She leans her head back and balls a fist.

She sits again and sinks down with her knees bent to her chest. Your skin tingles. Oh, something bad is happening. You know that look.

You reach over to Poppy and latch onto her hand. She squeezes back and looks you in the face. She looks drawn.

Yet, what if these men aren’t villains? They don’t seem to be searching for you. They only live here. And you are only women. You’re only lost.

Horses nicker and snort outside. More of them. You love horses. When they put out the plows, you were allowed to take them to water after.

“They’re here,” the louder of the men announces. He gets no response. That other man reminds you of Primrose.

Footsteps stomp below and the front door opens. “Good day, sirs. I see you’ve made the journey safe.”

“Have we?” Another challenges.

There’s more scuffling, some rustling, even some thumping. You try to picture what’s happening but it’s too much at once. You lean on Poppy and listen. That’s all you can do.

“There are men in the forest, did you see them?” Another new voice asks.

“Only my brother. He’s inside.”

“Stark’s men. They’re looking for something. Someone. They wouldn’t say.”

“And he wouldn’t let them search the cart,” the lighter of the two new arrival chides.

“What right do they have? Stark’s holding ends at the ravine.”

Primrose blows out through her nose and lifts her head. You all exchange looks. Not the archduke’s men but you are fugitives nonetheless.

The men enter the house. Their footsteps sound like they’re all around you. Poppy squeezes your hand.

There’s a metal clink that makes you jump. You stare at your skirt as your ears prickle. The men greet the fourth one inside without much excitement.

“We’ll need to slaughter that ox,” one of the men says.

“Oh, it’ll do for all of us, I think.”

“Better than the lamb’s meat.” Another intones.

“Yes, a regrettable choice,” the big bold voice agrees.

Footsteps climb the stares in a measured tempo. You let go of Poppy and crawl over the floor. You feel a tug at your skirt. You try to see around the edge of the hatch. You see a shadow pass below but not much more.

“Do you smell that?” The man growls and retraces his steps.

“Leaves?” Another comes up the stairs. “Maybe some mice have nested in the hearth again.”

“No, stop. Take a breath.” The other drawls.

They’re quiet. You hear them sniffing. You inhale too, trying to smell out anything but the wood and dust.

“The moon is close,” one says. “You know what it does to us.”

You’re a bit disappointed to not be living on campus itself but you found an alternative not too far away, and in a nice neighbourhood too. Not to mention, your best friend ever, Polly, will be living with you! 

The uber pulls up to the front of the idyllic building and your cheeks bloom with excitement. You spent the extra money to haul all your bags from the station, and it was worth it. You couldn’t have dragged it all that way, even on the bus. 

The driver helps you get everything onto the curb. You thank him and tip him on the app. He looks at you with that fogginess that a lot of guys get. He asks if you need anything else and you assure him you’re just fine. He seems almost reluctant to go. His spindly fingers twiddle at his side as he slinks around the hood. 

You stand with your bags and take out your phone. Polly said she was on her way. You don’t want to go in without her. You send her a message asking how close she is.

“Hey, what’re ya standing in the middle of the sidewalk for, bitch?”  

You wince as you spin to face the grizzly snarl. You harrumph and scowl at Polly as she cackles. It’s funny to think she could do such a scary voice considering she always looks so dainty and perfect. Even then, she wears a blouse and skirt, with a scarf that reminds you of an Audrey classic. Never a stitch out of place with her. 

“You sure are dressed for moving day,” you remark dryly. 

“Mm, don’t talk to me Barbie Doll,” she tosses the derisive nickname at you, “I see you have on the classic Mattel shade today.” 

You pout your pinkened lips at her and roll your eyes, “whatever! Pol! We’re gonna be roommates!” 

You squeal together and she lifts her bag over the lip of the pavement, “hell yeah.” 

You giggle and look up at the house. You went there once before for the walkthrough and it’s even more perfect than you remember. You bend to take your smallest bag and Polly shakes her head. 

“Really? You brought all that? I hope you don’t think I’m gonna be your personal camel and carry it.” 

“Don’t be such a downer,” you stick your tongue out. 

“Excuse me,” a deep timbre rolls over as the front gate squeaks. You and Polly share a startled look then turn to the large blond man as he steps through. That isn’t Jonathan... “Are you girls here for moving day?” 

“Uhhhhh,” you drone out and once more glance at your BFF, “we are.” 

“Oh, let me explain, Jonathan can’t make it. He has an emergency at another property. He left your keys with me to deliver,” he stirs around in the pocket of his blazers as he stands across the pavement. 

He's taller than the building manager you met in July, broader too. He’s bigger in every way and just as blond. He wears a pair of square glasses and only a plain tee under his suit jacket. He fishes out two key rings and shakes them. 

“Here we are,” he grins. He steps forward and offers you one of the fobs. “Front door is a censor. All new system.” He gives Polly the other dongle. “By the way, I’m Steve. I help Jonathan with security. I’ll be popping in for routine measures but I shouldn’t bother you too much.” 

“Oh thanks. I’m Barbie, this is Polly,” you squeeze the fob and smile at the grand facade of the building. “Awesome.” 

Polly toys with her keyring and stays quiet. She’s usually a riot but around men, you’ve noticed she gets a bit shy. You don’t blame her. Steve is a big guy and his gaze doesn’t falter for a single second. 

“Well, that’s great,” you continue, “good to be safe.” 

“Yeah, especially with a house full of girls. You never know,” he says. 

You blink at the subtlety of his suggestion. Obviously, there’s always those who will have the worst intentions but you try not to think of that. Besides, you’ve been around the block and it all looks very ordinary to you. 

“Anyway, let me show you inside. You’ve already got a roommate waiting on your girls,” he announces and claps his hands. “Can I help you with some of this?” 

He nods to your bags and you shimmy as you laugh at yourself, “oh, yeah, aha. I wanted to make sure I had everything.” 

“No problem, think I can handle it,” he bends and picks up your two largest bags. He doesn’t struggle at all. You gather up the three smaller ones and Polly rolls her suitcase with her. 

He stands inside the gate as he waits for you to enter. You lead the way up the walk as Polly clicks behind you. You climb the steps and strut across the porch. 

“Go on in,” Steve calls from behind. 

You do as he says and set your bags to the side of the entryway. You pause to take off your shoes as you see another pair on the mat. A pair of round-toed flats with bows. 

“You two are upstairs,” Steve says, “at the top, rooms at the end of the hall. Do you want me to bring your bags up?” 

“Oh, no, you can leave them at the door,” you face him again. “This is so lovely. Will you let Jonathan know we got here or should I call him?” 

“I can take care of it,” he says. “I’ll be headed to him once the rest of you show up. My partner’s out of town so we’re short right now.” 

“Your partner?” 

“Like I said, security.” 

“Ah, right, ha,” you rock your shoulders and he puts your bags down lightly. 

“Sure you don’t want some help,” he peers upstairs. 

“Really, we’re all good, right Polly?” 

“Mhmm,” she nods and looks past him. 

“Right, I’ll be outside. There's three more coming.” He nods and turns to go. 

You wait until he’s out the door to proceed upstairs. As you do, Polly sighs. 

“He was nice,” you say. 

“I guess,” she agrees dully. 

“He’s just doing his job.” 

“I know, it’s just, boys, guys, or whatever, standing next to you with them is like being invisible sometimes,” she mutters. “Not your fault but... yeah.” 

“Whatever. He’s a bit old for me,” you scoff as you get to the second-floor hall. You forgot how wide it was. Probably a good thing knowing it will be a full house. 

As you come to the end of the hall, a door opens and you see a single eye peer out. You stop short and Polly hits your back. The girl shifts the door and sticks her head out. 

“Uh, hi,” she squeaks, “I’m Lulu.” 

“Hey, uh, we’re... Barbie,” you point to yourself, “and Polly.” 

Polly leans around to wave with her free hands, “hi, Lulu.” 

Lulu lets the door go and steps out, “it’s been so quiet around here. I got here last week. It’s so nice to have people around.” 

“Oh, really?” You wonder. 

“I’m on exchange so... yeah, had to fly in,” she smiles sheepishly. “Anyway, sorry to bug you. Just wanted to say hi.” 

“You’re not bugging us at all! We were just chatting with Steve--” 

“Steve?” She frowns, “oh, the big bald guy? That’s Sy.” 

You frown and look at Polly, “no, Steve. Blond hair. Big.” You make yourself wide as you say the last word. 

“Ohhhh, sorry, I haven’t been out of my room. I’ve been so nervous,” she giggles and it sounds like a tinkling bell. 

“He’s the security guy or something,” Polly says. 

“Right,” Lulu’s lips tremble, “cool. Um, anyway, if you need me to show you around...” 

“Um, sure. We’ll drop out things off then I want to have a look at the kitchen. I was thinking of having some drinks once the rest got here. Maybe we can do a housewarming,” you chirp. 

“Oh, that sounds fun,” Lulu laughs again and it seems to clog her throat. She clears it and blinks, “sorry. Nervous.” 

You smile. You like meeting new people and the most exciting part for you, is all the different personalities coming together. And there’s still three more girls on the way. 

New things are always scary. For you, even the familiar is frightening. Sometimes what you know is the most dangerous. Like the bullies you went to school with for years.

Transferring to a new college is enough stress on its own but moving to a whole new city, that’s another beast on its own. Just like a dragon on its hoard. You clutch your worn novel to your chest as you walk down the street, your bag bouncing on the cracks in the sidewalk. 

You should’ve written this down. You think you’re going in the right direction. After the greyhound, you counter the city transit into the core and from there, you’ve been walking in circles. Finally, you recognise a street name and stop to turn on your data and spend a few MBs on confirming your destination. Just at the end. Phew. 

That gate was in the photos, those hedges too. Wow, it looks so much better IRL. You slow down in disbelief as you stare up at the siding. This can’t be. For the price you’re paying, you have to have taken a wrong turn. 

“Moving in?” A chipper voice asks as a shadow skews over the pavement next to yours. 

You blanch and look over at a boy about your age with reddish brown hair and warm amber eyes. He grins as you lower your chin then turn back to the house, “uh, yeah?” 

“Me too,” he says. “Peter. It’s a pretty cool building, huh? My aunt knows the owner.” 

“Mr. Pine,” you murmur. 

“I call him Jonathan but, yeah,” he chuckles. “You’re a Thrones fan?” 

You furrow your brow and glance over again. Then you check the book in your hand. 

“I’ve only read the books,” you say. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Molly,” you answer and sniff. You stare up at the house as it sinks in. You’ll be sharing a space with him. Not only him, but four others. 

“Should we go in together?” He offers. 

“Sure, why not,” you clutch your phone against the book and drag your bag forward. “Um, Mr. Pine said we should call--” 

“Yeah, that’s whatever. Like I said, I know him,” he insists as he goes ahead of you and unlatches the gate. “Come on.” 

You come forward as he hitches up his duffle bag. Your suitcase rattles over the threshold as another figure appears from the porch, “Pete, didn’t say you were bringing your girlfriend.” 

A large blond man, built like a warrior in a fantasy novel, descends the steps, “don’t think the roommates will be very happy about that.” “Whatever, Steve. She’s one of them. We just met.” 

“Ah, another one,” the man says, “great, just one more then.” The man digs in his pocket, “Jonathan left the keys.” He takes out two fobs and doles them out between you and Peter, “I’m Steve. Security.” He explains. 

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you,” you eke out. 

“This is Molly,” Peter intones and you give a bashful look. Oops, you forgot that. 

“Right, you two are on the first floor,” Steve says, “you wanna show her around, Pete?” 

Peter clucks, “Peter,” he corrects, “Steven.” 

The large man chortles and nods at you, “let me know if he gives you any trouble. It is my job to deal with the rabble.” 

You smile tightly and Peter waves off the other man, “come on. I’m sure you don’t wanna stand out in the sun with this lump head.” 

You show your teeth apologetically before you follow Peter. He strides down the walk and up the steps. You’re a few feet behind him. 

As you enter the house, you hear voices. They hush and you listen for them as they seem to do the same. Peter stands on the mat as you unlace your sneakers. 

“Hello?” He calls out, “anybody here?” 

There’s some noise before footsteps come from somewhere deep in the house. You look up to the top of the stairs as a figure appears above. The girl bounds down as two others loom behind her. 

“Helloooooo!” She trills, “I’m Barbie!” 

“Barbie,” Peter says, “hey. I love your lipstick.” 

“It’s gloss, actually, honey,” she winks, “you two are moving in? You’re friends too?” 

“Oh, uh no,” you shake your head, “we just...” 

“Good timing,” Peter says, “Peter, Molly.” He points in tandem with his introductions. 

“So cute, Molly, well up there is Polly. That rhymes! Polly and Molly, and that’s Lulu,” she gestures up behind her as the girls wave, “think there’s only one room left.” 

“What are we thinking?” Peter asks. “Party tonight? Ice breakers?” 

“Something like that. Drinks?” Barbie suggests. 

“You’re my kinda girl, Barbs.” 

“Barbie, hon,” she chides with a wag of her finger, “anywho, I’ll let you two get cozy while we wait on the last one.” 

“I hope it’s a dude,” Peter mutters as he turns away.  

It’s as if the ad was meant for you. ‘Book your room now. Single rooms available for campus students.’ 

Maybe people are right when they say your devices are listening to you. Still, you can’t exactly pass up the opportunity. All summer you searched yet just like the rest of your life, you’re running behind. 

The response is so quick, you almost can’t believe it’s real. It isn’t, not yet. It’s just an offer of a walk-through. You’ve done a dozen of those at least and each time, the room went to someone else. But you have to try. You can’t just give up, not after everything you’ve gone through to get here. 

Better late than never. That could be your motto. You should get it inscribed in Latin on something. Maybe a jacket? Are letterman’s out of style? 

You head out for the noon-hour meeting with the building manager. The posting said it was a new development. Hopefully, that means you don’t have to deal with anyone elses' leftover grime. Not that you’re picky. You’ve lived in worse. 

You let Marla know you’re heading out. Your mom’s friend will be even more ecstatic if you get this one. Neither of you expected you to be crashing for so long. It’s getting a bit crowded with her own kids still under the same roof. 

You catch the downtown route and get the connection just before it drives off. The building is slightly off-campus. You don’t mind. You're a bit too old to be kept awake by the frat house ragers. The reminder sparks another swell of insecurity. 

High school feels distant and you feel a bit pathetic running to catch up from behind. You’ll be older than most of the freshmen, even those who took a gap year. At least you’re doing it. Yeah, that’s something. An achievement is still that even if it’s not on the same schedule as everyone else. 

You miss your stop and curse yourself. It’s only a block away from where you need to be but you’re getting close to twelve as you spot the same building from the ad.

It’s a nice place. Modern and sleek. You wonder why anyone would convert it to student housing. Financially, it’s likely a windfall yet students do have a way of ruining a good thing. 

As you come up the walk, the curtain flutters in one of the windows. The boxy building isn’t quite as big as the on-campus dorms. That’s another relief. Not having to deal with the crush of students. 

The more you think about it, the more this seems like the perfect opportunity. You don’t want to get your hopes up. You know better. 

The door opens before you can reach it. You falter as a lithe man breezes through and grins in your direction. His blond hair pales in the sunlight and his blue eyes twinkle. He’s at least a decade, maybe two, older than you but he’s not aged poorly. 

“Ah, you must be Ann,” he extends his arm in a formal greeting, “Jonathan, we emailed.” 

“Oh, yes,” you shake his hand and show your teeth sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m late.” 

“Right on time,” he lets go and checks his watch. “I thought we could have our tour and then get to the usual questions. You understand, we have a strict screening process for residents. We can never be too careful.” 

He turns and strides back to the door and opens it, waiting for you as he steps to the side. You approach as he beckons within. 

“It is as much about out safety as those we choose to live here. We have seen the recent scandals at the college and what with the world the way it is. He tuts as you precede him through the door. His accent soothes your bubbling nerves. 

The entry way is tidy and neat. There’s a shelf of cubbies for shoes and a rack opposite with at least a dozen hooks for jackets and the like. You kick the dirt on your soles onto the mat. 

“You may leave your shoes on for the tour. We will have the house cleaned prior to move-in day. Of course, once you and your flat mates are in-house, it will be up to you to determine house rules.” He points you ahead. “Of course, if you choose to stay with us.” 

“Right, er, yeah, makes sense.” 

“Is this your first year?” He asks. His overly cordial manner helps ease you. 

“Mhmm, um, finally. I had to delay it a bit but happy to finally be going to school,” you explain. 

“Never too late to do something new,” he remarks. He gestures into the front room. 

“We’ve two common rooms, seeing as there will be six residents. We would like you to have all the amenities as a typical building. You see, this is a pilot program. We’ve a government grant for development of student housing.” 

You nod. You don’t really care about the money behind it but you appreciate his explanation. You’d rather know more than you need to. 

“A sitting area; television, sofas, perfect for a movie night, should you choose to spend a night in.” He lets you look around as he keeps to the wall and waits, “in the next,” he leads you on, “some games. Table tennis. A table should you wish to partake in any other sort of gaming.” 

The place is nice. Everything is brand new and shiny. There’s a shelf of board games by the sleek black table with chairs. The ping pong table has four paddles and there’s a basket of balls on a wall shelf. It’s all arranged so perfectly. 

You carry on into the kitchen. It’s huge. You marvel at the pale blue and black aesthetic, accented in silver and crystal. It’s immaculate. A bit much for college kids. 

“Uh,” you turn to him and twiddle your fingers, “did I read the rent correctly? I don’t know if I can afford this.” 

“Yes, two-hundred plus utilities. As I’ve said, we get a supplement from the government for housing students.” 

“Oh, sure, makes sense,” you sway and look around again. 

“There are a few things to go over, do let me know if you have any questions as we go,” he stands back as you tentatively explore without touching anything. “We’ve continuous security in place. You may see any of our staff on the grounds throughout your day. You will of course be acquainted on move-in. And we have on-site maintenance.” 

You nod as you listen and he takes you back around to the entryway and shows you the bedrooms on the other side of the house, only two down there, four upstairs according to him. He allows you even to peek into the bathroom behind the staircase. 

“Now, before I go through the typical questions, there is one condition I might confirm before wasting your time,” he says. “It was in the application but I do like to double-check these things. You are comfortable with co-ed residence? A mix of boys, girls, and all?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you smile.  

It’s not ideal. You’ve never really lived with men but you can make it work. 

“Splendid, well, how about we go and see the verandah? It is a sunny day and I hate to miss the sunlight, especially as autumn approaches so quickly.” 

“Oh, okay,” you agree and reroute as he directs you with an open hand. “This place is really nice.” 

“Thank you. I’ve overseen the design myself so I will happily accept that praise,” he chuckles as he trails after you. “Oh, you’ve not even seen the garden.” 

As if the flight wasn’t enough, you’re met with an endless wait in line to have your visa and documents checked before you can leave the airport. Even after all that, you’re far from settled. 

You pull out your notebook as the signs bring you down to the underground station. It’s neat that there’s a whole set of tracks right underneath the airport. Everything about this new place is so astounding but scary... 

You check your scribbles and stop at the wall map to confirm the information. Your platform is a little further down. You better hurry! 

You drag your bag behind you as you scurry down the scuzzy concrete, your carry-on bouncing on your shoulder. It won’t be long, you just need to get to the town centre and go from there. You can’t wait to see your room.  

You hope the real thing lives up to the pictures. The man on the video chat seemed honest. He was friendly. Jonathan... or maybe Jaime. Oh! You shouldn’t forget. 

You're out of breath as you reach the train door. It's like it's waiting for you as once you board, the compartment door shuts. You find a seat and keep your suitcase stuffed in front of you. It's already cramped without the luggage.  

You keep an eye on the digital banner near the exit. You won't miss your stop. When it comes, you're the first up and waiting to get off. 

Outside, you're swept up in vertigo. The distance between you and home finally catches up to you. You're really there. All on your own. 

You're shaky as you take out your notebook and your phone. You just need to go around the corner... every twist and turn is written down. From the airport to the station to your residence. 

Your bag rolls and rattles as you go down the next street. You recognise the house from the pictures. The lawns are vibrant and green and the front gate adds a homey touch. 

You stop just outside and scroll through your emails. Jonathan said to call when you got there as he'd have the key for you. You find his number and tap it, your phone popping open the call screen. You wait, there's no answer. Hmmm. 

The sudden roar of a motor and blast of air startles you. You look over the hedges at the man with a leaf blower. He clears the trimmings of the finely-groomed bushes. As you glance over, he spots you and shuts off the gadget. 

You smile, tight-lipped and teetering, as he approaches. It's not Jonathan. This man is much the opposite, burly, bald, and bearded. 

"Can I help ya?" He asks in a drawl. 

"Oh, sorry," you giggle nervously "I must look like a mouse in a swimming pool. I'm looking for Jonathan Pine." 

He tilts his head slightly, a squint as he seems to chew on his thoughts. 

"He's 'round. I can get him for ya. Can I get who's askin'?" 

"Oh, Lulu. I'm supposed to be moving in, sir," you push your shoulders up as another uneasy trill crawls from your throat. 

"Ah, you best come on in," he goes to the gate and unlatches it, "here." As you near, he reaches out and grabs the handle of your rolling bag, "you come far?" 

You let him drag the overpacked suitcase. Your shoulders are killing you. You follow him down the paved walk. 

"Yes, I flew in. From overseas," you answer. 

"Shoulda known. You sound like him." 

You laugh again. Your accent is not as refined as Jonathan's but certainly is nothing close to the local one either. 

"Name's Sy, I fix this place up and all. Do the garden, unclog the sink," you stops at the door and sets your bag to stand on it's own. "I'll get Jon for ya." 

You nod and he disappears through the front door. You sway as you peer around. The place is amazing. The facade is just as gleaming as the advert and the gardens are lovely. You've always liked oak trees and you're sure the leaves will be a beautiful shade of copper once the seasons change. 

The door opens again and startles you back to the present. You look up as Sy dips his chin in your direction and keeps the door open. A familiar face emerges and a tiny bit of pressure lifts off your chest. You're definitely in the right place.  

"A pleasure to finally meet in person," Jonathan offers his hand. You shake it and a giggle crackles in your throat, the habit harder to suppress as your stress mounts. "I am glad that you made it and I trust you had a safe journey?" 

"Oh, yes, sir, yes," you answer, "thanks." 

"Sy," he glances at the other man who promptly retreats. 

"Well then, please, let us get you set. You are the first to arrive. Of course, there is no trouble accommodating you early given the circumstances. Such a far way to travel. You must be terribly tired." 

"Oh, a little, but excited too." You go to grab your suitcase but he's much quicker.  

He directs you in first and follows as he rolls your bag with him. 

"I've put you upstairs but if the first floor is preferable, we can rearrange," he explains. 

"Upstairs is fine!" You squeak in a tone higher than your usual tenor. 

"Ah, I recall my first time abroad myself, it was surely nerve-racking. Don't be shy, eh, it does help to have someone who understands the plight, hm?" 

"Thank you, sir. Yes, it's... it's all so new."