Part One
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Grace’s voice carried through the reception area. She didn’t mean to be that loud and her cheeks turned pink as the room grew quieter. She tried not to meet the registrar’s eyes, her back hunching over. Maybe if she slumped down enough, no one would be able to notice her.
“American, eh?” the man said, eyeing her with curiosity and amusement. She nodded, a few girls tittering behind her in the line.
He raised his eyebrows. “What’s your name?”
“Grace. Grace Kimberly,” she whispered, looking down at the chipped nail polish on her fingertips.
“Two first names huh? That must mess your professors up quite a bit,” he said, flipping through the files. She didn’t want to answer. Her American accent had already caused enough disturbance so she smiled and nodded, her stomach tightening with unease as he searched through the papers. Coming to London hadn’t even been her idea. Her parents had urged her to go, forcing tickets and a passport into her hand the day she was supposed to leave. Maybe she had mentioned something to her advisor in passing during the school year about wanting to go abroad, but everything after that had been a blur.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Kimberly. Here’s your schedule, your ID, a map, and your key card. Welcome to Potserdam University,” the man gave her a wave as Grace grabbed her belongings and ran from the reception area as fast as she could. It didn’t even matter that everyone spoke English here. She was still an outsider.
She managed to make it half-way across the small campus field before it started to pour. She stood for a few moments in the middle of the grass, dumbfounded at her luck. She looked up, the rain drops splashing down on her, soaking into her jeans and short-sleeve shirt. They drizzled onto her skin, spattering her forehead and eyes with water. She could just make out the dark and foreboding sky. I should have remembered an umbrella, she thought, cursing her stupidity. She forced her feet to move again, pulling her baggage along with her.
The campus was a small, tight circle that was placed around the patch of grass she trekked across. The buildings were made from dark grey stones and green tiled roofing. They stood within feet of each other. At least I won’t have to walk very far to class, she thought, pulling out her key card. Smith House was engrained into the plastic. She shivered, the chill of the cold rain finally setting into her bones. Luckily, she soon found that each building’s name was written in large lettering over each doorway.
Her sneakers sunk into a mud puddle and she jumped out as fast as she could, spraying the dark muck all over herself and her suitcase. Smith House, according to the map, was on the farthest side of the green circle. Thunder vibrated in her ears and Grace was soon half-running half-limping to the building.
She just made it into the doorway as a flash of lightening lit up the sky. She closed the door behind her, her hair dripping into her eyes. She managed to tow her bags up to the second floor and found the door marked 33C. She stopped in front of it, squeezing the excess water from her hair, and took off her shoes. No one else was moving about yet, but she could hear the thump of a heavy bass coming from behind her doorway. She took a deep breath, inserted the key into the lock, and pushed open the door. The music grew louder as she walked into the room, her socks slipping across the linoleum floor.
“Don’t get any bloody water on my stuff alright?” a voice shouted at Grace as she pulled her baggage into the room.
Grace jumped, turning around. A tall, thin girl, who was wearing thick eyeliner, sat on the bed across the room. Her brown hair was short, curling out from her narrow face. She fixed her blue eyes on Grace.
Grace gulped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to if I did, it’s pouring outside and I forgot an umbrella,” she said, putting her stuff on her bed.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Forgetting your umbrella in London ain’t the smartest move, you know,” she said.
Grace nodded. “Yeah, I was in a rush.” The girl shrugged.
“I’m Grace by the way,” she said.
“Yeah I figured. I’m Melanie,” the girl stood up and looking at Grace’s soaked suitcase, raised her eyebrows. “If you want to change, I’ll step out.”
Grace nodded and Melanie walked out of the room, the door closing behind her. Grace looked down, her hands shaking. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, she thought to herself. She peeled her clothing off of her wet skin, some singer yelling undecipherable words from the radio on the dresser.
As she pulled on a new shirt, she couldn’t help looking down at the obnoxious words American Athletics plastered on the front. I never meant to stand out this much, she thought, panicking. She turned and gazed back at the shut door. Being different had never felt so wrong.
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