"Hi," Andrea said, as she tried to put on her best smile, "I am Andrea Bo— Andrea Boeing Salem."
God, Andrea cringed, why did you make me into such a dork?
The boy did not seem to notice, and simply gave her a sheepish smile, "Hi, Andrea Boeing."
Ahhhh!
"You can just call me Andrea," She said, trying not to look for the nearest window to jump out of.
"Say less," he said, as he began to click at his laptop, "You're not from around here."
Andrea realized just how useless she was as a conversationalist when she almost asked him how he knew – before she noted that he was speaking to her in a British accent.
"Yes sir!" She tried to regain her footing with another smile, "No bod'le o'wo'ah for me." That seals it – I'm killing myself, today!
He was good enough to laugh at that, and so Andrea decided to stop being an idiot and instead only ask questions. "So, you know my name, what is yours?"
"Walter," he said, as he turned the laptop around for her to see the screen, "Walter Fletcher. This is you, right?"
She scanned the screen slowly, ensuring that she would leave this conversation with having spoken as little as possible when it was all said and done. Andrea saw that she was put down as sixteen (true), part of a non-magician family from Tennessee (false), a female (sure), set to become a first-year (okay) and was enrolled in six modules for the year.
She was only sure of her age and gender, and that's all I'm going to need anyway, "Yep," Andrea lied, "That's me!"
Walter whistled before pointing at the screen, "You have Professor Milton for Source-Deity Studies."
"Yeah? Is he someone I should be worried about?" She asked, and Walter chuckled, "No, the exact opposite. The man is a delight, I'd say. You're pretty lucky to have gotten him off the bat."
She raised an eyebrow at that, "Oh? And why is that? Is he funny or something?"
He thought about his answer for a moment before smiling once more, "Guess you could say that, yeah. But more like that he knows his stuff. He'll have you enthralled. He is definitely the stingiest professor when it comes to holding your attention, I can tell you that much."
She was thankful to hear that. Andrea was worried about how much her human background would hinder her when matched up against peers who had grown up alongside magic, and so, a part of her yearned to find something, anything, to help her close the gap between her and them. Especially because she would be riding in on the coattails of a man she loathed, all thanks to his relationship to her mother. An enthusiastic professor was exactly what the doctor ordered, and if Andrea played her cards right, she could rely more on this Professor Milton, and less on the stoic asshole her mother had sold her off to. This need for at least a foundation of some kind was why number one on her to-do-list was finding books to try and get an idea of what this world was like. But before her lay a question, as with all complex topics that a novice must needs face, where to begin?
"You know him from when you were in first year?"
Walter shook his head, "A close friend's review, I am afraid. No primary sources here."
He finished typing something before standing up and exiting his little box to stand before her. He was tall and thin, made in a way that brought Timothée Chalamet to her mind, and had a childlike innocence in the way he stood before her, "The system says that you won't be here long, just long enough for your assessment."
Andrea raised an eyebrow, "Deadass?" He laughed and handed her a key, "Yes, dead-ass, I am afraid. We'll put up with you for now, but don't be a stranger once you've moved on and left us here in lowly Witan to wallow with the rest of the rejects."
She wanted to groan as she held out her hand, "Thank you, Walter." Andrea said, her tummy tightening like an infant's hand around a finger. The look of Julian's disappointment flashed through her mind, and that made her anxiety worse.
She hated how public her status was, and hated even more how this status thrust some sort of expectation upon her. Julian doesn't even think I'm going to live up to hundred…
She awkwardly waved before picking up her luggage bag and frowning at how much heavier it seemed to be getting. Andrea looked down at the key and saw '312' on it, "Please don't tell me that there's something wrong with the elevator."
Walter shrugged, "Depends on what you mean by 'something wrong'…."
She looked at him like he had two heads before he burst out into laughter, "I'm just fucking with you, yeah. Don't worry about it, it'll get you to where you need to go… probably…."
This time she scowled at him, and continued scowling until his smile could no longer resist breaking through, "Again, I'm just fucking with you. Nice to meet you, Andrea."
She moved towards the elevator, "Goodbye, Walter. And thanks, again."
A part of her was worried that the elevator would need some magic to make operate, and that she'd be left standing there like an idiot whilst Walter watched, wondering how a girl like her could have ever gotten by the entrance exam. But it was just your average, everyday elevator, and even Andrea could not fuck this up. It dropped her off on the third floor, and she walked towards the end of the hallway. She was about to insert the key when she heard music come from the room, and it made her heart start beating a thousand miles a minute, a roommate?!
Honestly, she had always wanted a roommate, the sitcoms her and her mom would watch always made it seem like having a roommate was a ticket to hijinks and hilarity. But now, she wanted nothing more than to have this apartment room to herself, so that no one could see her drowning in her imposter syndrome.
"Stop it!" She snapped, "You're not going to be here long any-who! Fake it 'til you make it! She's probably just as inept as you are. For all you know, she could be someone who actually isn't from a magical family."
Andrea swallowed the syndrome and straightened herself, inserting the key and opening the door to her temporary abode, walking in to see a small apartment with a living room that blended into a kitchenette. With the sort of music coming from down the hallway, she would've expected a place more dark and grunge-y, but the floorboards were tan wood, the white couches were arranged in an 'L' shape on top of a carpet spotted so black-and-white that you'd think that Cruella De Vil herself would break in just to swipe it.
On the couch were a couple of blankets between the pillows, and that made her happy to see. The sort of person to have blankets out was a considerate one, she told herself. Her roommate was the kindest person alive, there was no other way to look at it. Andrea continued into the apartment after locking the door, fantasizing about the sort of adventures they were going to get into as she moved past the kitchenette. The floors were tiled and spotless, and the walls were a match, with an island of black and grey marble serving as three-quarters of a barrier between the living room and the kitchen. On the fridge were a couple of pictures of two girls posing at a concert, and Andrea could not help but leave her bag behind to get a closer look. The girl on the right had her left arm draped across her friend's shoulders; her right was holding the camera as she smiled. Her hair and eyes matched her attire, dark black, and she was as pale as ghost, but still she came off as the sunniest person. The girl on the left had her arms folded, and looked away, seemingly annoyed, but looked as if on the edge of cracking a smile had the girl on the right waited a couple more seconds. She was blonde, and peachy in complexion, with green emerald eyes. Andrea hoped that she was not the girl locked away in the room booming music that, in her opinion, belonged in a trashcan that was mistakenly thrown into a dumpster that should have, instead, been thrown into space.
She took one last look before putting the picture back on the fridge beneath its strawberry magnet, before Andrea moved down the hallway that had a wall running parallel to the longest stretch of the couch. At the end of the hallway was a door with some rock band's poster on it, and Andrea cringed. She couldn't stand a stan…. Except maybe a Kendrick one…. Or a Cole one…. Okay, maybe she could stand a stan, so long as it was someone she could see herself stanning!
Andrea knocked once and waited for the fine gentleman currently obliterating her ears to stop his wailing before she knocked again.
This time, the knocking led to her ears being saved, as the music was turned off. The sounds of footsteps heading towards the door hit her harder than the wailing about death and despair had.
Please don't be blonde; please don't be blonde, please…. Ah fuck!
The door was pulled open, and standing in front of her was a tall girl with peachy skin and blonde hair, now cut short. She looked at Andrea with those emerald eyes before raising a dark eyebrow, "Yes? Can I help you?"
Andrea never felt so American than now, when she failed miserably to place the accent. Her geographical skills were limited to movies and the sorts of filters they threw up on their scene-establishing shots, and her accent-detecting skills were limited to whether they could've played a villain in cheesy-America-Rocks action flick from the 80's (Russian), 90's (Italian) or early 00's (I'm not saying).
"Hi!" She smiled. "I am Andrea, your new roommate."
The girl eyed her up and down, and her glare was giving threatening vibes, as if she was prepared to squabble. Andrea and her were about the same height, but she maybe had a couple pounds, sorry, kilograms, on her, but Andrea was lean and athletic from running. Her clothes, black jeans and a black crop-top with a black choker, were more intimidating than she was.
She did one more look over before her eyes softened, slightly, and she sighed whilst holding out her hand, "Hi Andrea, I am Helena."
This is a 40's villain, she thought, as she accepted her hand, "I'm glad to meet you!"
Helena gave her the smallest, tinniest, smile, "I would offer you a tour, but as you can see, there is no need. And so instead, allow us to go over some ground rules, ja?"
"Ja," Andrea said, before internally cringing, "I mean, yeah…. Sorry…."
Helena frowned at her as she stepped into the hallway, her door closing behind her, "Sorry? Sorry for what, you just agreed with me."
She sheepishly began to rub the back of her neck, "Oh, for saying yeah like that, I didn't mean to be rude. It just slipped out, I guess…"
Helena's frown deepened, "Yeah or ja, what does it matter? I understand both, and either means we are in alignment, no?" She cocked her head before continuing, "I had heard your accent and thought that you were American. But you're overly polite, like an Englishman. How strange."
Andrea said nothing as Helena took a couple of steps and opened a door adjacent to her room, "Anyway, here is the bathroom. The water pressure is bad, and the geyser inefficient. So please be thoughtful when showering."
Andrea nodded her head obediently, "Say less."
Helena pondered what Andrea had just said for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed, "I think the number of words I just used were adequate. Although, I agree that there was no need to point out that this is the bathroom, so perhaps you're right."
She laughed, but stopped immediately when she saw that Helena was not at all joking, "Right…. Any other bathroom rules?"
Helena pointed to the sink, "More toilet paper is kept there should you need to refill. The left drawer is where I keep my things, so you may have the right. We clean the bathroom at least twice a week, Wednesday and Saturday. Schedules notwithstanding, you're probably going to spend weekends out with your friends, and so I will take the Saturday slot."
Andrea smiled and shrugged, "I'm new here, so I don't really have any friends to be spending weekends with. But I can take Wednesdays, no biggie."
Helena cocked her head, "New? How new?"
She did not like the scrutiny that was dripping off of Helena's glare, "Oh! Umm, I dropped in yesterday, on an invisible carriage, can you believe that shit?"
"Ja." Helena said, and it was another reminder that this world was new, and new to her alone, "So, you were not at the entrance exam then?"
Fuuuuck....
"Nope," she conceded, trying to worm her way out of it with a smile, "Lucky for me, huh?"
There was a flash of something in Helena's eyes that made Andrea feel uneasy, and so she instead took a step back and pointed beyond her shoulder, "So…. Wanna continue the tour or go over the ground-rules?"
Helena said nothing for a while before shrugging, "The rules are simple from here on out. What is mine is mine, and what is yours, is yours. Do not touch my things, do not go into my room, and if you need anything from me, don't ask."
She made it a point to bump Andrea's shoulder as she exited the bathroom, "Get help from whoever helped you get into Camelot." The rest of what she said was said in German before she closed the door and put the music back on, louder than last time.
What the fuck is her problem? She wondered, leaving the hallway to retrieve luggage before walking towards her door. Her room was down a hallway in the same direction as the door, and she opened it to find a room that was completely empty. The ways were the same creamy color as the walls of the rest of the non-kitchenette apartment. Her bed, less a bed and more a mattress on top of a base with a bedframe to go along with it, was tucked away in the corner to her left like an afterthought. In front of her was a white wardrobe built into the wall, and a few paces left of the wardrobe was a window that had a study desk bolted underneath it. This is what going to college must feel like; she smiled, despite the ache in the back of her mind telling her that she did not deserve to be here. Andrea put her luggage bag down on the bed before opening it up and pulling out her clothes and toiletry bag, allocating them into clothing type before separating them into piles to take to the wardrobe.
It was on her return to place the third pile that she noticed a box in the bottom right corner, and so she knelt down to investigate it, opening it up to see some clothes and a few more pictures.
It was a picture of a little blonde girl in a red-chequered sundress smiling, her front teeth missing and her left arm covered in melting ice cream wrapped up in an ice-cream cone in her hand.
Andrea's head snapped back as she felt herself being dragged by her hair by a firm and terrifyingly strong hand.
She was lifted up into the air by an invisible force and struggled to look down to see emerald eyes of hate looking up at her.
"American, I will ask this once, and only once…what the fuck are you doing?"