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(edited xx)

"Shut up! Just... leave me alone." I half sob, sniffling, and tearing my eyes from his piercing brown ones. Michael slinks over to me, but I turn my back. His arms lock on either side of me, against the wall, preventing me from escaping his grasp. "Go away!" I reiterate. "I'm sorry. I-" "Save it! All you ever do is insult me and confuse me, and make me cry."

"Look at me." "Michael-" "Look. At. Me." I bite my lip, and force myself to meet his eyes. They are soft. For the first time since we've met, they're soft. He leans closer, and I flatten against the wall. "Baby," He mutters gently, his cinnamon-scented breath fanning across my face. His chest is too close to mine. His mouth is too close to mine. His lips are too close to mine.

****

Love is Patient, Love is Kind. And when I am without you, Love will keep you on my mind.

When the pain of life has you feeling blue, just remember, I love you.

"Skipper!" Moonsie yells, briskly shaking my shoulders, and throwing me out of my reverie. "Are you listening?" Her wide brown eyes are filled with worry, drawing a smile from me. I do my best to avoid teasing her, and giggle.

"Yes-" "Your skirts and dresses are in the blue bag, see? And your shirts and accessories are in the red one. You won't forget will you? That medicine I gave you for cramps last time is in there too. You'll remember?" I roll my eyes, laughing at her. "I won't forget, Moonsie." Clasping my face between her two hands, she sighs with a reluctant smile. Her skin is cold. "Good." She finally calms from the hysterical state she's been in for the past three days, running her maternal eyes over me.

Again, I let my eyelids close, and the warm words repeat in my mind, washing over me. My dad loves me, always. Even if he doesn't know it.

"I can miss this flight, baby, I just don't want to leave you all alone. It's such a big city..." "If you miss this flight, you'll miss your shift again, Big Mary will fire you, and then-" "You're right," She whispers in defeat, her slender shoulders sagging downward. We both know that she can't afford to miss a shift at the diner. No shift means no money, and no money means no electricity.

"I'll be fine, I promise. It's just an apple." She scoffs at my corny joke, smiling warmly once more. "I'm so proud of you, my little girl heading off to school. All by herself." Tears brim in her eyes. "You're so brave." My heart tears a little staring at her, with a trembling bottom lip and shaking shoulders. Moonsie hates to be alone.

I give her a determined smile, as I always have, but truthfully I'm more hysterical on the inside than she is openly. I've anticipated this day for years. My afternoons and weekends were spent memorizing the names of medical procedures instead of going to parties. I suppose that's always been my life; instead of wishing for the tooth fairy when I was five years old, I begged Moonsie for a new Healthcare Handbook. The one I had currently possessed was already falling apart.

I blew off my fourth-grade best friend Patricia Stewart's 10th birthday party to watch General Hospital. The worst moment of my life was when I broke my Anatomy Jane doll, and the pancreas would no longer fit in with the rest of the organs. I cried for a week.

I gaze past Moonsie, past the impatient taxi driver in his cab, and to the place I've been dreaming of for as long as I can remember. This is exactly where I want to be, the key to my future. New York. My life is perfectly planned out, and as sad as it is, that plan includes sending Moonsie on her way. "You should go now, Moonsie."

"Look around, some of the other parents are still here. Am I embarrassing you?" She teases, and I notice her tears have begun to spill down her face. "No, I'll be fine, but you have a plane to catch. I'm gonna go find my dorm." I wiggle my shoulders slightly, trying to hint to her that I've gotta go.

"Well... ok. I just want you to know... I love you, sweetie, and I'm so proud." "I love you too." I promise, grasping the color-coded pieces of luggage in my hands. I give her one last nod, before turning on my heel and taking a tentative step towards the campus. I hear her sniffle behind me, and stop in my tracks.

"Skipper?" Moonsie calls again. "Yeah?" "Mineappolis won't be the same without you." I nod solemnly. She purses her lips, her eyes drift downward. I'll miss her, she's all I've had for a long time. "The meter's running!" The cab driver yells at her, chewing the end of a fat cigar. She tucks a ring of shiny black hair behind her ear, and slips inside the dirt-caked New York taxi.

The taxi pulls away from the chalky sidewalk immediately, and her sad face disappears with it. The yellow thing soon blends into the rest of the busy traffic.

Squaring my shoulders, I take in the scene before me. Throngs of students decked out SMPS gear hoard the campus, walking down the perfect paths beside the manicured green grass. It's the only grass I've seen since I got here, actually. Ahead of me, striking against the grey and smog-filled sky are the old-style buildings that make up St. Mary's. They remind me of something out of the Middle Ages.

I start down the path, somewhat eagerly, reading the signs and following their directions. I should be slightly intimidated, given the fact that everyone here is a good two or three years older than myself, but I try not to let it get to my head.

Keifer hall is a tall brick building, closely resembling a castle, and the place I'll be calling home for the next semester. I approach happily.

I take a deep, calming breath, and push open the doors with my head held high. What awaits on the other side knocks my jaw to the floor, and my ambitions almost slip down with it.

The lounge area, which is just the front lobby, is filled to the brim with people I can only call hooligans. Cigarette smoking, short-skirt wearing pierced-up hooligans, that's the best way I know how to describe them. The room would look nice, with a large mantel, tall ceilings, comfortable looking furniture and wooden floors, if it weren't for the people inhabiting it.

There's gotta be at least fifty of them here, the majority of them being minorities. Latina girls with long curly brown hair, who seem to have found a different, more... revealing way of sporting their plaid St. Mary's skirts and button-downs, their busts and thighs showing through prominently. The guys in the room seem to enjoy it, the top buttons of their dress shirts unbuttoned beneath their undone ties.

Waving away the cigarette haze, I almost choke, rubbing my eyes to make sure this is actually happening. This is a preparatory school, so what the heck does everyone think they're doing?

I suddenly feel very out of place in my wool dress, my long frizz slicked and pulled into a pony tail.

I decide to stop standing there like the prejudiced idiot I am, and push through the crowd of people in a pathetic attempt to get to the other side of the room. I'm jostled all over the place, and one ebony-skinned girl gives me an irritated scowl when she bumps into me. "Watch where you're going, sweetheart." She mocks, and pushes past me, almost knocking me off of my feet. She looks like something out of the seventies, with a very large yet manicured afro.

I finally make it to the other side of the lounge, and look back with a frown, huffing under my breath. My heart leaps into my throat when I meet the eyes of several hooligans staring at me from the couch in the corner of the room.

The ebony skinned girl is there, gawking animatedly and pointing towards me with a long and bony finger. I flush with embarrassment. I don't know what she's saying, but from the looks on their faces it must be pretty hilarious. There's about 6 or them there, including the ebony girl, and I dare to rake my eyes over them.

A perfect set of three boys and three girls, Two black boys, two black girls, one latino boy, one latina girl. My eyes settle on one of the boys, with a particularly mocking smile. His gaze seems almost sinister, but that's not what grabs my attention. There's something familiar about him, the medium-caramel complexion, loose Jheri curl, and long, slender form...

I turn away quickly, blinking. Hallucinations could be a result of extreme anxiety, which would be appropriate for such a sitution. Unfortunately, I can't prescribe any lorazepam for myself, so I turn away, and start stiffly down the hall, ashamed of myself for unknown reasons.

Third floor, room thirty-three. I drift in that general direction, chewing on the inside of my mouth nervously. That face, I've seen it on many an album cover throughout my life. From little boy to teenager, America loves him and has since his Motown days.

I stop outside room thirty-three, my door, and take a moment to look down the hall in both direction. It pleases me a little to see that the hall is clean, fresh, every door the same, and clean of the foul stench of tobacco.

Biting back a smile, I slide my key into the shiny golden lock, and twist. The door pops open, and I step inside... only to be disappointed yet again. The room is fairly small, painted a neutral color with two beds and a fair sized window. The problem is the right half of the room, which is covered in crude posters of heavy-metal bands. Aerosmith, Blondie, Black Sabbath. I turn up my nose at them, Moonsie always said those types of people only end up drug-abusing alcoholics.

What's worse? The girl laying across the bed on the right side, a girl with tight-coiled light brown hair, long legs, and arms covered in tattoos. Her eyes are made up with pounds of black eyeliner, her lip color is dark red it seems black.

She stifles a scoff, seeming amused. "Hey there. Are you lost?" I shake my head numbly, my fingers nervously wrapping and unwrapping themselves around the handles of my luggage pieces. "N-no, I think I'm in the right place," I squeak, daring to meet her hazel eyes.

"You look like you're about 12 years old, but I guess you're my roommate. Becky." She offers, slinking off the bed in one oily-smooth movement. I didn't really ask her opinion, and it irritates me that she gave it, but I hold out my hand to her anyway. "Skipper." She ignores my hand, and wraps her somewhat gangly arms around me. She's so tall, I envy it.

Somewhat caught off guard, I politely return her affection before backing up a step. She smirks. "Skipper, huh? That's your name." Not my government name, but... it does the job well enough. I like it much better than the disgusting crap written on my birth certificate.

"You enjoy the party downstairs?" I frown, and avoid the question for a moment, while wheeling my luggage over to the bare side of the room. I leave them beside the dresser, and turn back to her. She has her arms crossed expectantly, waiting for my answer.

"Party? No. Those people don't seem very nice or friendly at all." She shrugs, leaning over her vanity to apply more mascara to her lashes. I thought they were thick enough already. "Well, when someone like you walks into the room..."

Someone like me? I ignore her comment, and begin to run over a plan of action in my head. I suppose I should buy some things for my side of the room, and pencil my classes into my planner. That's sounds like something nice and productive to do, rather than sit around and stare at her disturbing posters.

Now's a good time to go buy those accessories I guess, I don't really wanna be in the same room as Becky. She seems nice and all, but if she's anything like those hooligans in the lounge, I don't want anything to do with her. Maybe she'll be gone most of the time.

"Maybe I'll introduce you some time." Her eyes drift to me, and I swallow hard. "I'm... I'm gonna go," I tell her quickly, pointing to the door. "Suit yourself." I take that opportunity to leave as swiftly as possible.

****

The shopping trip proves very successful, and my extensive research of New York seems to be useful. For first time travelers, New York is the mother of confusion, but I made sure to avoid any danger zones. Taking a taxi on my own was a little scary, but other than that, I seem to have emerged from the day unscathed.

I carry my purchases with me around the back of the dorm building, scaling the stairs back up to my room. Whistling softly, I wish to myself that I was a bigger person, and then this load wouldn't be such a problem. But, my growth plates have closed, so I can kiss that goodbye.

I open my room door with my key, and freeze in the doorway. It's not Becky laying across the bed this time, it's my severe anxiety messing with my mind again.

Michael smirks cruelly at me, and my stomach drops through the floor.

Oh god.

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