1 Campus
My heart raced as I stepped onto the grounds of UC Berkeley, the iconic Sather Tower looming overhead. I took a deep breath embracing my newfound independence. Just a few years ago if anyone had told me I would be a seventeen-year-old international student from the quaint village of Pucklechurch, South Gloucestershire, travelling across the Atlantic alone in pursuit of my dreams, I would have laughed. My parents didn't believe me either when I told them that I applied to a school in the United States. It all sounded so silly, and maybe even a tad too risky. When I'd seen the check-marked envelope lying on the hall floor, I almost left it unopened, the "California or Bust!" sticker looking mockingly back at me.
"Wow, that's the... ummm, big campus of your university, right?" Mom asked over a spotty phone connection from home.
"And you get around the city by a 'street car' and there's something called 'Hole in the Wall cafe' near the building you're staying in. What sort of a name is that for a cafe? Right?"
"Yep," was all I managed to say. Mom had done a lot of research on the college and American culture before I left.
"We're still not sure if letting you move out west by yourself is the wisest decision," Dad chimed in. They had insisted that I Facetime as soon as I got to campus, to show proof of life. I rolled my eyes at my overprotective parents.
"Oh, the West Coast is totally different," I tried to make an educated argument about a country whose entire coast was entirely unfamiliar with the exception of a handful of national geographic images, one National Lampoon movie, and the many geography lessons during the 2004 Olympics in Athens.
The thing was, though, I wanted this. This opportunity, not because Berkeley offered a four-year creative writing major, which is rare at the university level, but mostly because the college had the added bonus of being placed somewhere far away from the cute, little world I was leaving behind in England. A world where everyone seemed to be living in the 1920s rather than the early 21st century, a place filled with beauty and intrigue, and one that has existed forever—until now.
"It was bound to happen sooner or later," our aunt had told Mom.
And she was right, because the very day after my high-school graduation party I had finally been gifted my present. As a kid, and then a teen, I'd always dreamt about what it'd be like to leave England, experiencing a whole world entirely different from this one. However, nothing is that easy, and my mind is the same mess it was the day before graduation, only this time I have no more homework assignments, no exams, and nowhere to hide. The family's gift arrived in the form of a cheque. My father had come over to where I stood amongst the hydrangeas next to the shed, clamped down a rough, warm hand upon my shoulder, and smiled.
"Do me a favour, dove," he said.
He produced the small slip, and looked into the distance, chewing his lip. He handed the folded sheet to me, not meeting my eye. It was from my grandmother.
"I can't," I told him, unable to read the neat printing.
"She wanted you to have it," Dad said, his voice reassuring.
My hand shook as I read the letter, a familiar pain, a feeling like someone had torn through my chest and exposed the wound. The smell of cinnamon sticks filled my mind, they were my grandmother's favourite. She would put cinnamon in everything. I remembered the day we found out she was sick, I didn't know she had left me money for uni. Although I had gotten a scholarship; it would've still had to pay for a large chunk of my tuition. Thank you Grandma I mouthed the words to the sky hoping she would hear them.
The time had finally arrived, and whether any of us were ready for this moment or not, it had happened.
In short, I had landed a free ride and a room on campus, so moving abroad was not a financial burden.
I walked with a sense of purpose, My gaze taking in the vibrant campus life bustling around me.
The Coronado campus of UC Berkeley was a melting pot of students, the crowds that bustled around me were both thrilling and intimidating. It wasn't easy navigating the maze of buildings, my eyes widened with wonder. I passed by the rows of academic buildings, the weight of expectation sat heavily on my shoulders; the pressure to succeed in this new environment was a constant presence.
I adjusted the knapsack sitting heavy across my shoulders. The bus ride to Berkeley was not pleasant, to say the least. I couldn't have felt more nervous. My thoughts circled over the upcoming class list, but instead, drifted back to my life back home and the sudden realisation that my life was an entirely new chapter. Everything was changing.
There was a massive sign advertising the administrative office location. It pointed to a set of stairs heading straight towards the main building. This area was less densely populated. It seemed calmer, serene, as though a quiet mist hung in the air, soothing my anxious soul.
I rounded the corner too quickly, colliding with another student. I stumbled, nearly falling, a firm grasp of a single long, slender finger preventing me from landing on the hard brick pathway.
"Holy shit!" the guy said.
A binder fluttered from his hands, contents splaying everywhere, littering the ground. I dropped to the pavement, immediately helping the student re-collect his items.
"Fuck," he said under his breath.
"Here you go," I held out the misplaced binder, a strange, perverse warmth travelled from his fingertip and into my arm, lingering at my heart, the sensation strangely uncomfortable.
I thought back the feel of his flesh upon mine, trying to dismiss the involuntary feeling.
He seemed foreign, his chocolatey, curly hair a clear indicator that the world was made up of diverse people, and not everyone had pale skin and dry hair, or ginger, thick eyelashes. His hooded hazel eyes conveyed the intelligence and sensuality a wise and confident man possesses, and, God, those plump pink lips would cause women's panties to drop to the floor in a wet puddle. There was a tiny line above his nose and below the centre of the eyebrow crease, the markings caused an uneasy sensation within.
He flashed a brief crooked smile that indicated a carefree youth, his white teeth gleaming. "No worries, are you an exchange student?" he inquired, looking directly into my wide green, doe-like orbs. He spoke in a thick Latin American accent.
His steady, attractive stare unnerved me, a blush crawled its way across my face. "Err yes, from the UK."
"Cool, I'm Collin from Colombia," he nodded, with a casual, comfortable attitude. "Welcome! How has your week been going?"
"Um, not bad, this is my first day, I'm trying to find the dorms"
"What's your major?" he asked, ignoring my hint for assistance.
I opened the map and looked for the student residence buildings. Ignoring his question, I located the building and zoomed out of the map.
He followed my actions, peeking at the map, with an eager smile.
"The Spaulding House is in the opposite direction, over there." He motioned his index finger and tilted his head slightly south. "I can help you get checked in with registration." He suddenly leaned in closer, the heat of his body warmed the crisp California air.
I leaned away, but not enough, his strong masculine fragrance encompassed my lungs, a weird feral sense washed over my psyche.
"Okay, err yeah," I mumbled, taken aback at how closely he approached. "I'm Maria."
"Hola Maria." He moved his hand in an awkward waving gesture, which made me giggle.
His clothes hugged the outline of his toned upper body, a dark grey fitted tee showcased his lean frame. He wore light faded ripped denim jeans that enhanced the strength of his muscled legs. He definitely had his pick of females on the Berkeley Campus. He would not want someone as awkward and reserved as me, not here among the pretty Californians. I tucked a strand of long reddish-blond hair behind an ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"So, shall we head off?" he interrupted the thoughts, his voice brought me to attention.
I flushed red, embarrassed and ashamed that this was my first encounter, my brain went blank. I had not met another human ever besides family who possessed the power to rob me of the ability to form words. I blushed again, an unfortunate response to any social situation. I drew the short straw in the genetic lottery, with my red hair and pale complexion I turned into an unattractive tomato every time I blushed.
"You okay?" the sound of his silky, yet thick-accented voice called me once again.
"Yes, great," I turned, avoiding further awkwardness.
"The administration office isn't far, just past the third-floor corner,"
his husky-chocolaty voice instructed.
"Alright, follow me."
As we passed through the corridors, it surprised me how effortlessly we maneuvered the tangle of students. I was smaller and easier to pass through, and somehow, without asking, Collin stayed by my side, matching my step, the fabric of his thin black jacket brushed against the sleeve of my navy cardigan, the proximity raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I felt the sudden warmth radiate and bloom throughout the inside of my abdomen and stomach, an overwhelming urge of awareness.
After an agonizing length, or two, and a few hundred thousand steps, the Office of the University Residences loomed ahead.
We pushed open a small marbled entryway door and strode directly into the lobby area, the smell of fresh furniture polish and papers bombarded the senses. An array of glass counters and plastic chairs had been strategically positioned across the front section of the open area. To the left a lone male occupied a wooden chair, staring out the glass-lined wall.
To the right a feminine-appearing individual, wearing a neutral blue outfit, and a stack of hair pinned upon her head, was busy at the counter.
"Hi, would you mind checking a student in today?"
Collin laid a steady palm against my lower back, indicating for me to take a seat on the nearest bench, his fingertips burning the fibres beneath the layers. My face burned, he had no idea the effect, and damage, a touch such as his was doing to me.
"Are you the staff? She's just starting, transferring, I don't know," he rambled to the female official.
"Can you tell me your name, honey?"
"Maria Lewis, the Bancroft Apartments, please."
I said checking my Phone to make sure I was giving her the correct information.
"This is your confirmation number." She handed me a slip of paper with the number scribbled on it. "I will print out all the information you will need and verify you have the availability to stay. Could you give me a moment?"
I nodded, crossing my arms, sinking low, the realisation I didn't have a bed, linens or pillows, or anything hit, I was totally screwed. One of my connecting flights was cancelled, delaying my arrival by two whole days. I was probably already behind in my lectures.
I sunk farther, the tip of my sneaker scraping the slick, wax-infused floor. The seating arrangement was small, and I hoped nobody would notice a small English student being a massive inconvenience and all. A gentle poke on the right knee startled me. I shot upward, knees hitting the edge of the bench seat, the impact resulted in a sharp slap and the imprint of the vinyl stick-um onto my bare thighs.
Collin had chosen a nearby spot and perched himself a mere inch away. "Did I scare you?"
He examined the sore knee, lifting his left arm to rub the painful place, the veins and muscle in his forearm twitched, the fingers gracefully running down the sensitive skin.
"Nope," I lied, biting a lip.
"The beds have sheets, the kitchen appliances are fully stocked, and the unit is furnished," the clerk confirmed.
"Great, thanks."
"All finished," Collin quipped.
"And..." The desk employee waved her hand, attempting to drag forth his attention. "Did you get an ID card? Is your name 'Lewis', like the confirmation number states, Ms. Lewis?" She spelled out my last name letter by letter
"Yes."
"Okay then, that will be thirty dollars. Once you have your account set up they will automatically draw the fee off the account they have registered in the system. Do you have a debit or credit card you could give me?"
She waited impatiently, a neatly formed thumbnail tapping the lacquered top of a glowing desktop.
I had planned on setting up a bank account and transferring my funds at the start of the term. I had my credit card for emergencies but I forgot to prepare for the very simple fact, you actually had to pay for everything in the States.
I did the calculation: Twenty-four pounds, $30 American. Thumbing through my bag I reached for my wallet.
"No problemo," Collin stated.
Before I could interject, or thank the stranger, he pulled a platinum credit card and swiped it over the reader, the machine displaying a flashing message.
"Thank you, Collin." I stuttered, embarrassed that he was so quick to pay before I could reject the offer.
"Anything to assist."
The receptionist swivelled in her chair to grab a stack of freshly printed papers and proceeded to stand up and lean forward.
"This is your temporary room assignment. In order to make a change or apply for a different residency, you would need an appointment. Make an inquiry at the student services kiosk. And finally, would you be able to check and fill the documents prior to leaving and leave a copy? Here is your class schedule for the courses you are enrolled in along with the housing code and keys. Also a list of items you need and are prohibited from taking. Should you have an inquiry about anything else, I'd recommend contacting the office manager, Ella is quite well-informed. Be advised the main office closes promptly, four-thirty, five o'clock, although most clerks have the same closing times. We operate on a similar schedule."
I took a breath, thinking of her spiel, making mental notes, trying desperately to remember.
"If you could just step over here to the right so I can take your ID picture for your student card" She indicated toward the line marked on the floor.
She grabbed a small camera and stood next to a shelf, then anchored the camera to a tripod, adjusting the height.
"Face the camera squarely and don't blink." the administrator spoke.
It clicked three times.
She came close to me with the instant digital device. A screen popped up, the image resembled a surveillance shot, the colours were odd, and the lines around my lips appeared spider-like, making the area look swollen.
"Acceptable."
I blanched at the image of myself on the screen. Raising a hand I smoothed my messy hair hoping I didn't look that bad in real life. I stopped and glanced around, lowering the hand and mumbling under my breath
I filled out the form and pushed the documents to the receptionist.
"Fantastic, that is perfect. And before we forget, your ID card will be ready for pick-up tomorrow."
"OK."
A vibration tickled my thigh, and a soft metallic drum hummed in the vicinity of Collin's side. I had never encountered the music, or rather the ringtone, before. He placed a finger within the confines of his front pocket and answered the call, holding a palm, tilting the iPhone vertically and returning it to the tight fit of his jeans.
The visual and scent intoxicated me. He was positively and truly, ridiculously hot. I observed the scene with the keen awareness a lemming possesses before hurling itself to its death, or a fly caught in the trap, waiting in the net and knowing the web is waiting for a free meal.
"Are you busy?"
I shook my head. "Sorry, lost in thought, what's up?"
"Just, ya know, wondering what building your dorm is in, do you want help finding it?." He removed his phone, re-checking the device, the back facing away.
"Oh, err, the Bancroft." I fiddled with my stack of papers, feeling embarrassed, like a moron.
"Si."
The door opened, the cool late autumn weather brushing a flush upon his already vibrant caramelised flesh. We walked straight towards a fenced-in structure a considerable distance away.
I lagged a bit behind, the jet lag had drained my energy. He hesitated, slapping an ankle against the fence's gate, halting. "There's the second part of the accommodation; the basement and other apartments."
He lifted a chin, pointing the direction.
I was looking intently and knew nothing about the layout. I stepped through the gate, pausing, admiring the flat brown brick structure.
"Well, which room will you be residing in, anyway, Maria?" Collin's piercing eyes were riveted on mine, searching and measuring, a tilt, curious, with an eyebrow slightly raised and an angle towards an incoming object.
"Oh, um, the top floor, North, isn't it?" I said rechecking the papers again.
I was wrong, but luckily Collins had come to my rescue. Before my legs gave out from under me we reached apartment 205A. The key was slightly bent, I twisted the knob and shook the key until it finally turned in the keyhole, a click, and it opened.
"Wow, heavy," I mumbled, pushing my body weight against the door and entering.
Collin said he had somewhere to be. He asked for my phone and quickly typed in his number before leaving.
As I settled into the dorm room, I felt a sense of both freedom and loneliness. My half of the room was a blank canvas, waiting to be filled. I unpacked my bag, arranging books and pictures on the shelves.
My roommate, Cora, a tall athletic girl with short black hair and a contagious smile.
Corazon de Reyes, called "Cora" for short
Her major: Nutrition and Kinesiology
Background: From Northern California, native-American. Her parents died when Cora was eight. Raised by her grandfather. She has one older brother who attends Stanford, majoring in computer engineering and political science.
Personality: Fun, social, friendly. Goal-oriented, and determined.
I took notes as Cora gave me her entire background, it was a lot of information and I didn't want to forget Anything in case I offended the other girl.
One thing I noted about living together: Cora, and I seemed to instantly get along. Once we had unpacked a bit, I had gone outside the apartment and stood at a corner cafe a few yards past our rooms. There was a sandwich station, some books, and a fancy, gothic-styled staircase that went to another section and was shrouded by two walls. I heard a series of voices echoing, and one particularly squeaky-female.
"Yes! YAY! Thanks so much, that's awesome."
Moments after the noise, a slim figure emerged, descending the stairwell with the quick and poised pace of an athlete, a skinny frame, and thick, long blond hair tied in a ponytail.
She had northern European features and eyes the hue of almond.
"Hi." Her voice held a high-pitched sing-song quality, an element that did not match the rest of her.
"Hey," I looked up and smiled.
She lowered her nose, her lips pursed, the tip turning in a peculiar manner.
"Nice to meet a fellow hallmate, are you moving here too?"
"Erm, yeah, today is the first day." I stumbled over the words.
"If you want to meet up sometime, can I show you around? I have a night class starting soon, but I'll give you my number."
I unlocked my phone screen. She entered a cell number and her full name:
Porchay Martinsson-Zimmermann
Preferred name: Chay
Back in my dorm, I flipped open my laptop and typed Chay's name into the Facebook search bar. A few accounts popped up, I clicked on them until I found her picture. Chay's photo had a silver-frost-winter-style background, a few pictures of herself and others lined the corners.
I scrolled through the page.
Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff.
Favourite dessert: Margarita-style Cookies and red velvet cake.
Origin: Swedish and RussianBackground: born and raised in San Diego, California, third generation Swedish.
I hovered my cursor over the friend request button before clicking send, and then closing my laptop.
