4

~Ali~

It is lunch before I know it and the on-site cafe leaves mile long queues at the food and salad bar as a result. I stand in the line, silently trying to determine how sad I will look if I take my tray of food and sit alone. I hope the busy crowds will mask my solitude otherwise I fear I may have to take my lunch elsewhere else more private.

But as I stand in the line, slowly shuffling forwards, I have the strangest feeling of being watched. I do not consider myself a paranoid person but that nagging in the back of my mind cannot be ignored. The feeling passes as quickly as it came and I nervously dismiss the sensation as embarrassment.

My turn arrives to order and I snag a sandwich and fruit juice from the refrigerated glass case, placing them onto a grey tray and sliding it to the cash register. A lady takes my student number and adds the lunch onto my bill, impersonally dismissing me into the wild mess of people milling around the tables.

I wander aimlessly, waiting for a seat to open. When one does not, I begin to redden as I finish my third unsuccessful loop of the cafeteria. Unable to bring myself to walk around again, I begrudgingly perch in the corner of the room, setting my tray on the carpet beside my crossed legs. Slightly ashamed but mostly hungry, I hide behind a curtain of my hair and ignore any passing looks as I open the packaging to my sandwich.

The bread is a bit dry and the vegetables on the soggy side but nothing out of the ordinary for a cheap cafe lunch. As I pick up the seeded bread of my second slice and take a bite, a shadow falls over my lap and two pairs of shoes appear in my vision. I put my sandwich down and brush the crumbs off of my hands as I look up to two girls smiling down at me. Their eyes are eerily identical in their rich, coppery colour, blinking at me like flashing pennies.

The platinum blonde girls speaks first in a smooth, inviting voice. "Hey, I am Amber and this is Tami," she announces, pointing to the mousey-haired girl by her side. Tami smiles a pearly grin, lips creasing at the corners in a similar way that the other girl's does and waves warmly at me. I quickly suspect they are twins. "You are new right?" Amber says more as a statement than a question. I prepare an answer but she does not wait for a response - not rudely, I presume, but almost excitedly. "We were wondering if you wanted to have lunch with us, unless you have other plans?" My neck blushes from the obvious lack of plans I currently have - and they know it too.

I quietly assess whether their offer stems from kindness or mockery, but as the girl sitting on the floor with no friends, I have little choice in the matter and I accept gratefully.

"Sure, thanks," I say and return their duplicated smiles just as widely.

"What is your name?" Amber asks as I stand and dust myself off.

"Ali." Tami bends down and picks up my tray from the floor. I give a thankful nod and take the tray myself, following them to their table.

We come to an overcrowded table in the centre of the room and the girls slip comfortably into two empty places, their trays already waiting for them. I sit on the end in the only seat available opposite a girl with open eyes and a warm smile who introduces herself as Kristy. Kristy points to the boy she is seated beside, their hands clasped in their laps underneath the table and introduces him as her boyfriend, James, a man who is not handsome nor particularly ugly but someone with a unique beauty somewhere in between. The rest of the eight-seater table occupants introduce themselves briefly but welcomingly. And then the final occupier leans into view around Tami and he needs no introduction as his wayward gaze meets my own. Will waves at me with a smirk that he makes handsome and I bite out a laugh, waving back.

Amber and Tami are the driving force for the conversation across the table, lively and enthusiastic about almost everything. They shoot questions at me like I am the target of the firing squad and I answer candidly, not necessarily disliking the momentary attention I receive. As I secure the basics about myself and the conversation begins to veer into more general territory, the atmosphere begins to feel less like an interrogation and more of a repartee between the whole table.

"How have you found today so far?" Tami asks sweetly as we walk out of the cafeteria in a big group.

"It has been good. I had a small group session first which was..." my eyes find the back of Will's head as he passes through the swinging doors beside James, "Intense." Tami looks at me for clarification and I push down a flush, shocked at what I said. "Mr Cole, I mean. My teacher," I quickly correct. "He is very full-on." Tami nods understandingly.

"Well, I am doing a liberal arts degree in History and English Literature so I had Mr Cole in my first year for some of my lectures. All I can say is that I totally sympathise," she laughs. "You know, we might actually share a lecture if you are doing Political History as part of your course? They tend to mix first and second year students for the generic lessons."

"Yeah, Political History is one of my modules this year. Let me just check my schedule, I think I remember having it later today actually." I pull out my overly folded piece of paper, scanning down the events for today. Sure enough, there is a three o'clock Political History introductory lecture.

"Yes! Looks like we all have the same lecture slot then," Tami cheers happily.

"All?"

"Well, not all all of us. But Amber also does a liberal arts degree majoring in History. And, of course, Will is on your course, so I guess that is all four of us," she laughs.

The rest of the day passes in an enjoyable blur as I have people to spend it with. When I find myself exhausted and thirsty back in my dorm in the early evening, I discard my folders at my desk and walk the few steps into the minimalistic kitchen, taking one of the cloudy glasses and filling it with room temperature water at the sink.

It does not take long until I find myself reclined on the small sofa, gratuitously flipping between television channels. With little to indulge in, I leave some generic, easy-to-watch TV series on in the background and let myself switch off for some time. After a couple of episodes later, Jaz decides to make a noisy and unapologetic entrance. She throws the door closed behind her and I receive a grunt in acknowledgement. I mute the TV in her presence and turn to my phone instead, powering up the screen and responding to any messages I received.

I scroll aimlessly through Facebook, double-tap a handful of Instagram photos and check my emails, actually surprised to find one from mum and dad at the bottom of the pile. With a little more excitement than I think the email elicited, I open the message and read.

Ali,

Hope you settled in well on your first day and made lots of lovely friends! We miss you lots and lots.

Love you bunches,

Mum and Dad x

I tap out a reply and throw my phone to the side as an ache of loneliness settles in my stomach. But the feeling is quickly squelched at a heavy, intrusive knock at the door.

I look over to Jaz who is draped lazily over her bed, her laptop screen lighting up her face in cool blue light as I wonder what trouble she has already brought to this dorm - because that was certainly not a knock of welcome. Another knock rattles the door and at her obvious lack of movement, I reach for the handle and push the bar. But I must admit, the founder of the University, Mr Canbury, was not the guest I was expecting to meet. He looks true to his portrait photos in the brochures, just as burly and congenial as he seemed to be, although under whatever circumstances that have arisen, his congeniality has been somewhat overshadowed by irritation.

"Oh, hello Sir," I start lamely, caught off guard at his presence. I throw a noncommittal glance back at Jaz, watching her sink deep into the springs of her mattress at the realisation of who has arrived.

"Hello, you must be Jaz's new roommate. We have not formally met, I am Mr Canbury, one of the founders of the University," he says smoothly and I shake his clammy hand.

"Hi, I am Ali Bliss. What can I do for you, Mr Canbury?"

"I am looking for Jaz Spark, is she in?" he inquires bluntly. He not-so-discreetly peers past my shoulder and into our room with a quick, stolen glance. Not sure what kind of trouble this will stir between Jaz and myself, I answer his question hesitantly, yet truthfully.

"Yes, um, she is right inside," I reply, the words sounding more like a question than a statement as they fall clumsily from my tongue.

A sigh resonates from behind me followed by an exaggerated groan as Jaz rolls off of her mattress dramatically. Her theatrics are followed by bumping me out of the way, taking my place in the doorway and leaning casually against the frame with the side of her hip.

"Yes?" She barks rudely, the disrespect in her voice accompanied with a faux smile.

"Miss Spark," he starts frustratedly, rubbing circles around his temple soothingly as if her very presence initiated a migraine. "I do not take to commonly visiting student dormitories, however, due to your evasion of our meeting today and many other scheduled appointments prior to that, I felt that a quick visit may be in order. I am here to discuss the whereabouts of the cigarette packet, Miss Spark, which I surely needn't remind you was confiscated yesterday afternoon?" Jaz stays silent and Mr Canbury sighs again, making me feel almost sorry for him. "It appears it has gone missing again, despite our very strict non-smoking regulations on campus. So I ask for your full honesty and cooperation at this time - do you know the whereabouts of your cigarettes?"

It is obvious this is not the first time Mr Canbury and Jaz have butted heads - anyone can tell that by the almost casual way they interact with each other. But the bitterness in his voice tells me this has been one interaction too many for his liking.

"I know nothing of the sort, Mr Canbury," she replies in a tone reeking of false innocence and I stand listening dumbfounded at her blatant insolence.

"Miss Spark, must we do this every time?" His exasperated voice chides and by the smugness in Jaz's face, I know her answer to that is a yes. "I am certain you have something to do with this issue, just like you had something to do with it last time, and the time before that," Mr Canbury says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his patience quickly fading.

Jaz rubs a suddenly sweaty hand on the back of her black denim jeans, lightly tracing the corner of the rectangular cardboard pack peeking from her back pocket. Her boldness is somewhat amusing.

Something tells me I should intervene, that maybe this could be the introductory act that starts off a friendship - or at least an acquaintanceship. So I begin moving before I can comprehensively judge the situation and I nudge Jaz with enough vigour to step into the founder's line of vision, speaking out before Jaz can answer him.

"I am sorry Mr Canbury but you must be mistaken because Jaz and I have been together since orientation this morning," I smoothly lie, surprising not only myself but Jaz too with my false alibi.

"Is this true Jaz?" he questions looking rather shocked at the revelation. Jaz looks back at me incredulously with what I think is a faint, almost invisible smile across her lips.

"Yes it is," she quips back, suddenly much more confident. Her smug smirk has the faint sense of relief behind it. He pauses for a moment, assessing the two of us in turn as if searching for the holes in our flimsy story. But being able to do nothing more than outwardly call us liars, he drops the matter.

"Well, I am sorry girls for the intrusion. Ali, a pleasure to meet you, and Jaz, I will be keeping a close eye on you." As he waddles away down the hall, Jaz closes the door and leans back on it until it clicks shut, her eyes drooping in relief.

When she opens them again, Jaz pushes off the door and rubs the back of her neck in a gesture that shows the first whispers of apology.

"Um, thanks. That was really cool what you just did there." She clears her throat uncomfortably then seems to shake most of her awkwardness, extending a hand of truce. "I think we got off on the wrong foot - or, maybe I did. I am Jaz Spark."

"Ali Bliss," I say with a small smile, not hesitating to shake her hand back.

"I thought you should know that I don't actually smoke." She pulls the cigarette packet from her pocket and tosses it into the trash can. "I just love pushing that man's buttons!"