There were two name tags on the door. Mine said "Leslie". The other said "Quinn". The student housing computer matched me with a girl named "Quinn". I hoped beyond hope that Quinn would be a geek, or a nerd, or even a gothy loner. Just anything but a popular cheerleader princess. As Dad and Bryan caught up to me, carrying the foot locker between them, I put my new key in the door of my new dorm room and opened it for the first time.
Quinn was already there, sitting on the bed by the window, watching something on her phone, earbuds in place. I could tell immediately that we had almost
nothing
in common.
I had the good sense to wear ratty cut-off jeans, an old T-shirt, and grungy tennis shoes. I knew that moving into a dorm in August was going to be hot and sweaty, so I'd skipped makeup and jewelry entirely. Not that I often wore either anyway.
Quinn, on the other hand, was wearing red, high-waist shorts and a frilly sleeveless blouse. Her makeup accentuated her Asian features perfectly. She wore dangling earrings, a subtle choker necklace, and several bracelets. An anklet adorned one bare foot and a toe ring the other. A pair of strappy heeled sandals sat on the floor next to the bed. Her long, black hair was braided and hung down her back and off the bed.
She looked like a fucking Disney princess on her day off.
Quinn looked up when I walked in and her face lit up. She pulled the earbuds out and jumped up, crossing the room with her hand out.
"You must be Leslie! Hi, I'm Quinn."
"Hi!" I forced a smile and shook her hand, stepping out of the way as the guys maneuvered the foot locker through the door. "It's nice to meet you. This is my dad, and my cousin, Bryan."
"Hi! Sorry, let me get my stuff out of your way," she offered quickly, and pulled two large suitcases across the room and tucked them under a bed. "I didn't want to start unpacking until you got here. I checked in first thing this morning because my parents had to catch their flight back to San Francisco."
At least she seemed like a considerate princess.
"You're from California?" Bryan asked, setting down the foot locker. "What brings you all the way out here?"
"Oh, I got a scholarship," she replied, smiling. "Performing Arts."
"Oh yeah? Music or theater?"
"No, dance... ballet." She did a thing where she bent one leg at the knee and went up on her toes and rotated just once, a perfect 360 degrees, with her hands out in front of her. I didn't understand how she did it, but it was fluid and graceful.
So she's a ballerina. That is literally only one step below actual "Princess". Fuck.
Dad and Bryan applauded. "Thank you," she blushed. "What are you studying, Leslie?"
"Oh, um... Engineering. Either materials or aerospace."
"Wow," it was Quinn's turn to be impressed. "The engineering program here is no joke. You have to be really smart to qualify."
"She's a nerd," Bryan cut in.
"Geek," I muttered.
"Leslie makes the rest of us look bad," he continued. "My mom used to compare my grades to hers all the time. What was your GPA when you graduated, Les? Four point oh?"
"Four point one." And now the princess thinks I'm a nerd.
"Yes, we're all proud of Leslie, but nobody's studying anything until we get the car unloaded," Dad interrupted, bringing us back to the task at hand.
Bryan suggested that if we wanted to rearrange the furniture, we should do it before we brought up the rest of my stuff. He's a senior now, and had lived in the identical building next door during his freshman year, so we trusted him as our expert. Quinn and I discussed it and we decided to bunk the beds to make more room. We figured out how to best arrange the dressers and desks—there were only so many options. Dad and Bryan did most of the heavy lifting.
After that, it took Bryan, Dad, and I many more trips to bring everything up from the van. Quinn offered to help, but I declined. I wouldn't want the princess to ruin her manicure. So she unpacked her suitcases into her dresser and closet. Then she disappeared for a bit, but just as we were setting down the last of my milk crates, she returned with four bottles of ice-cold Coke.
I had to admit, Quinn was more thoughtful than all of the bitchy, stuck-up, popular princesses I went to high school with. I was a little chagrined to realize I would not have done the same for her. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
Since I lived less than an hour from campus and Mom still drove a minivan, I didn't really think twice about packing nearly everything I own. I had my laptop for class, my desktop for games, my X-Box, my NES classic... You get the idea. Quinn had mostly packed clothes, figuring that she could buy any school supplies, sundries, or decorations out here rather than carrying them on the plane. I felt very self-conscious now, seeing how much I had compared to Quinn's two suit cases.
"Do you want to try to do some shopping before I just... take over everything?" I offered, awkwardly.
"The campus shuttle runs out to the shopping center," Bryan offered. "I can show you where to catch it."
"Sure. That would be great," Quinn agreed.
"Alright, well In that case, I'm going to head home." Dad stood up from my desk chair. "If I'm quick I can beat the rush hour traffic out of the city. Thanks for all of your hard work Bryan. Here... Here's a little extra pizza money." He opened his wallet and handed Bryan a fifty dollar bill.
"That's not necessary, Uncle Jim," Bryan protested, but he pocketed the bill anyway.
"Can I have pizza money, too Daddy?" I asked with puppy-dog eyes.
"Sweetheart, you have money. If you stick to the budget we planned, it should last you all semester. Now come here and give your dad a hug before I start to cry."
He wrapped me in his arms and held me for a long minute. We said our goodbyes and when Dad finally let me go, his eyes were wet and he made a quick departure.
I decided I should probably change clothes before we went shopping so Bryan went downstairs to wait in the lobby. Quinn sat at her desk while I dug out a clean outfit.
"So... why engineering, Leslie?" she asked as I kicked off my sneakers.
"Oh, my Uncle Mike is an engineer," I replied peeling off my T-shirt. "He encouraged me."
"Is that Bryan's father?" Quinn asked.
"Yeah, but he's not really my uncle," I explained as I tossed my shorts in a pile with the T-shirt and struggled out of my jog bra. "Uncle Mike and my Dad grew up together, and our families always spend holidays and vacations together. He's kind of an honorary uncle."
As I turned around topless in my underwear, Quinn quickly averted her eyes and looked down at her phone. That seemed odd. I figured she had probably spent lots of time changing in front of other dancers, but I guess she was shy. "What are you watching?"
"Oh, it's, um 'Agent Carter'," she replied with eyes downcast. "It's this TV show about a secret agent in the 50's. Have you ever seen it?"
"Are you kidding?" I asked, stripping off my sweaty underwear and reaching for a new pair. "Peggy Carter, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.? From the MCU? I love those movies."
"Really?" she exclaimed, looking up and staring at me for just about a half second too long before blushing and averting her eyes back to her phone. "Me too. I um, own them all on my Amazon Video account."
"Have you seen any of the Defender's stuff on Netflix?" I asked turning my back to finish changing and making a mental note that Quinn was uncomfortable with nudity.
It turns out we had more in common to talk about on the ride out to the shopping center. We both have December birthdays—Quinn is only three days older than me. We both have older brothers. And amazingly, we both think chocolate is overrated and prefer vanilla.
So I was totally wrong about Quinn. She's just as big a geek as I am, but she's like a "fashion geek". Is that a thing? She knows all this stuff about how fabrics hang and drape and what to wear to suit your body shape and how to hide one thing or show off something else. I had never really paid too much attention to clothes before. Fashion was always for the popular girls, not me. Nobody ever told me clothes could do all that.
We were in this one store, and Quinn picked out an outfit for me to try on. I was reluctant, but since I had misjudged her so badly earlier in the day, I decided to be a good sport. The pants had a subtle floral pattern and the waist was way lower than I normally like. The top was a kind of long blouse that crossed over in the front and had a deep neckline. The shoes had a bit of heel but not too extreme. Quinn even picked out a bra for me and guessed my size right.
I swear I did not recognize the girl in the mirror. She looked so tall and elegant and pretty, even without makeup. Why didn't anyone ever tell me clothes could
do
