A Beautiful Fate Page 6

Chapter 2

  Room 1202

  That night the past crept into my mind again. I relived my mother’s death, as I had every night since losing her. My own screams and cries as I begged her to stay at home filled my ears. She left and I watched, knowing that I would never see her alive again.

  Waking in the morning after a restless sleep, I dressed quickly and found my way downstairs. I joined Margaux on the veranda for a cup of coffee and a look at some of her discarded LA Times. After a moment, she stood up to leave and turned to me.

  “Good luck. I’m sure you won’t need it.”

  I smiled at her.

  “Oh, and Ava, I already have plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You will have to be on your own. The school allows students to stay in the dorms over breaks, so you will have no problems staying in Dana Point.”

  My smile slid off my face. I felt defeated and lonely and the thought crossed my mind that the best thing to do was to fly home to my best friend, Mia. She and her mom would take me in with open arms.

  Leaving my still-hot coffee sitting on the patio table, I grabbed my bags and made my way out to the front drive of Margaux’s home. There I found a brand new, shiny, black Mercedes G Class SUV. I choked on my own breath at the sight of it. I had been expecting a clunker, some sort of metal death trap, considering that, after all, the car was a gift from Margaux. A Mercedes, I have to say, might be a bit over the top and seem a tad ostentatious. I should have protested and requested a vehicle more eco-friendly and less expensive, but I would have lost the battle anyway.

  Margaux will yell at me about being ungrateful and churlish if I argue with her over this car I said to my inner self as I threw my bags in the back and a ridiculously giddy smile claimed my lips. I climbed in and settled back. The car was fantastic – leather seats, satellite radio, GPS, and a great speaker system. It sure beat the hell out of stinky cabs and riding next to unknown characters on the “L” in Chicago. My tires squealed only the littlest bit as I made the turn out of Margaux's cul-de-sac.

  I arrived completely relaxed at The Dana Point Institute’s campus about an hour later, turned my music from blaring to moderate and surveyed my new territory. The city of Dana Point is stunning – white stone and stucco buildings reminiscent of Mediterranean countries, palm fronds waving high in the air, bougainvillea half hiding private courtyards and lapis waters beyond. The school itself is tucked away in pristine hills with a view of distant ocean to soften them.

  I found the main building and walked into an unexpectedly luxurious space – the admissions building was more like a high-end hotel lobby than the foyer of a school. Countertops were formed of marble and sported fragrant blue and white hydrangeas arranged in glass vases for centerpieces. Framed photographs of students in lab coats and on the soccer field dotted the walls. A blue-and-white banner hanging on the wall behind the front desk proclaimed Dana Point Institute, Education for the Unrivaled. A small, very tan woman with frizzy hair was sitting at the desk.

  “Hello,” I said, startling her a bit. “My name is Ava Baio. I am new here … ”

  “Oh, Ava! We have been expecting you. Your items arrived yesterday; they are waiting for you in your dorm room.” She handed me a stack of papers.

  “Here is your class schedule, dining accommodations, insurance forms and a map of the grounds. You are in Socrates, a coed dorm, and your suite is on the twelfth floor.”

  She took the map out and marked Socrates with an X, then used a red marker to trace the way to it. I nodded and thanked her for the help as I turned around to leave.

  I drove up the road to the parking lot closest to the building labeled Socrates and walked a short path to the dorm. I took the elevator to the twelfth floor and when the doors opened, I was pleasantly surprised.

  The floor was bisected by a wide hall that served as a commons area. It was quite large and outfitted with comfy-looking couches and chairs. There was a flat screen TV mounted on one of the long walls. In the center, there was room for a pool table and an old upright piano. A door at the far end of the hall opened to a kitchen that had two of everything.

  There were six doors on one side of the hall and six on the other. All but two of the dorm doors were decorated with various arrangements of pictures, dry-erase boards covered with kitschy quotes, and posters. The two blank doors, one right next to the other, were labeled AVA RM 1202 and ARI RM 1203. The paper on Ari's door had clearly been attached for quite a while – it had yellowed over time and there was a rip in the corner. Evidently, he was not the decorate-your-door type. Good. I’m not either.

  I opened the door to my new home. Any fears I had been harboring about the space ebbed away; my room was quite nice … small in a cozy way, with casement dormer windows overlooking a tree-filled quad. Soft and spotless taupe carpeting covered the floor and the walls were pale blue framed by white woodwork.

  A bed pushed against one wall was flanked by a desk. At the foot of the bed was an overstuffed chair with matching ottoman. The closet was a just-okay size; I could probably squeeze my clothes in if I tried hard enough. But the best part of my new room were the casement windows that could be wound open to offer a view and the scent of the quad below, the treetops beyond and the shining sea in the distance.

  The school had thankfully given me a single room, but I would have to share a jack-and-jill bathroom with a girl next door to me. The bathroom was just as nice as the bedroom. There were two sinks and lots of storage for my belongings. I plugged my phone and my MacBook into chargers and as soon as they were charged enough, I put on my music, playing it more softly than usual – I didn’t want to make any enemies on my first day at Dana Point.

  From Louie Armstrong and Bob Dylan and Paul Simon to MGMT and The Foo Fighters, I live and breathe music. But it's best when it's loud. Music has a way of speaking to my soul, reaching much farther than skin deep for me. It is my absolute best form of therapy, but here in the dorm I would have to temper my therapy a bit.

  Clothes squared away, I sat on the bed with a box packed full of photographs of life in Chicago and my thoughts moved once more to the loss of my mother. Tears were gathering behind my eyelids and I was on the edge of a good cry when I heard a somewhat timid rap on the bathroom door. It opened slowly and a curly head popped in through the doorway.

  “Hey!” a small freckly girl said with a smile. “You must be Ava.”

  Very quickly, I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands and I smiled back at her.

  “Yep, that’s me, come on in.”

  She took a seat in my chair.

  “I’m Emily Martin, your suitemate,” she explained.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Emily,” I said, truly meaning it. Her distraction had been quite welcome.

  She told me that the dorm was quieter than usual because most of the people on the twelfth floor live in the area and go home on the weekends. She herself is from northern California, and so goes home only about once a month.

  “So what part of California are you from?” she asked.

  “Well,” I said, “my grandmother is from L.A. but I just moved here from Chicago.”

  I attempted to be vague on the details, not wanting to open up about the loss of my grandfather, then that of my mother and then the rift with my boyfriend all at the same time.

  “Oh, well, welcome,” she said politely. “Our floor is the best one to live on; you’re lucky they never filled it. I think they were waiting for Julia to move back, but that’s never going to happen.” She seemed to assume that I knew who Julia was.

  “We throw a party up here every Thursday night. Most of the people from the other floors come up and it’s usually a really good time. All of the people that live up here are nice, some more than others. The girls and I do a lot of shopping trips in Dana Point and in L.A.; you’re welcome to join us whenever you want.”

  “Thanks,” I said, genuinely appreciating the offer. “I may just take you up on that.”

  “So, are you Greek?�
�

  “I’m sorry, am I what?”

  “Greek, you know from Greece?”

  What a strange question to ask.

  “I don't know. My mother was adopted and my father passed away years ago and I never knew much about him.”

  Emily furrowed her brow.

  “Oh … It’s just that, you know, about eighty percent of the students here are Greek so I guess I just assumed … well, I’m not, so I shouldn't have assumed …” Emily struggled as her voice dragged to a somewhat embarrassed stop. She shrugged.

  “They mostly sit together at lunch and dinner and stuff. Really very nice,” she added and then started talking about some of the other people on the floor and the classes and teachers. Emily was friendly and outgoing, clearly the bold and daring type of personality that I always seem to attract. I thought I could see the two of us being friends, at least I seriously hoped so. I definitely appreciated the fact that she kept the conversation going. I tried hard to connect and ask questions but my heart wasn’t in it. I don’t think she noticed or cared for that matter. She seemed to be content just hearing herself talk, so the friendship would work out nicely. She told me she surfed a lot and invited me to join her some weekend when everyone else was away.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t do water.”

  “You picked a bad place to move if you don’t like the water,” Emily said with a laugh.

  “Tell me about it,” I said dryly.

  “Your other neighbor, Ari, is a good friend of mine; he’s the best surfer in the area. Well, that may be a small overstatement, but he’s really, really good and absolutely brilliant. I am sure he can teach you.”

  “I really, really don’t do water, but maybe I’ll watch.”

  Emily smiled and after a while excused herself to get back to her homework. With Emily gone, I found that I had absolutely nothing to do and morning was not even over yet. I could feel another emotional crisis coming on so I grabbed my running clothes and headed out to find the school’s gym.

  The fitness center was just down the road from my dorm and it was huge. Completely state of the art and unlike anything I had ever been to before. There were basketball courts, tennis courts, and an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Weight room, sauna, yoga, pilates – the fitness center seemed to lack for nothing. I headed straight to the indoor track, trying not to be intimidated by people staring unabashedly at me, the new girl. Ear buds in and music ramped up, I ran, falling into the right rhythm almost straight away.

  The anxiety and angst began to wash away and once I rounded mile four, I quickened my pace, giving it all I had for my last go round of the track. I finished up at mile five and was walking off the track, completely lost in a song, when I jumped, startled by a stocky, dark-haired boy with a bright smile who stood in my path and was gaping at me. I gave a tiny scream and he tossed his head back and laughed. I could feel my cheeks burn with slight embarrassment and I pulled my ear buds out quickly.

  “You scared me!” I said, trying to slow my beating heart.

  The boy stopped laughing and his smile broadened.

  “I’m Rory; sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Ava,” I said, catching my breath. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, you too. You’re pretty fast, you know that?” I nodded in agreement, not sure what to say. I ran my fingers through my hair, something I do when I feel a little uncomfortable.

  “Wanna race?” he asked, and I hesitated, not sure how to answer.

  “Come on,” Rory said, “It’ll be fun … loser buys lunch.”

  The Ava I know would have said something sarcastic, rolled her eyes and walked away. The Ava I know would never have agreed to a race, a bet or a lunch with a complete stranger.

  “Alright,” my mouth said without my permission. I guessed it couldn’t really hurt anything and after all I had promised myself I would at least try to make friends here.

  I met Rory at the starting block. He counted down from three, and I took off as fast as I could. I could feel him behind me every step of the way. Before long, we were neck and neck. I tried to push myself as far and as fast as I could go but as soon as I came up near the finish line, Rory flew by and crossed the line a foot in front of me. He gave a victory cheer and then laughed again, all smiles.

  “Man, that was close; you nearly had me, Ava. But the good news is you didn’t and I am starving.”

  Rory hit my shoulder playfully with his fist and I rolled my eyes in a teasing manner and laughed a little bit too. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed.

  We took a few minutes to clean up and then walked down the road to a small café on the other side of campus. The place was very cute and full of students chatting about homework, clubs and sports. The sign above the door read “Ambrosia.” Rory pulled out a couple of chairs at an outside table and I took a seat.

  Our server, who appeared to be another student, promptly came to our table to take our order. She was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. The shirt had the school's logo on the breast pocket and on the back of the shirt there was a picture of DPI’s mascot, Titan, some Greek guy with a sunbeam crown. Rory made small talk with her and introduced me. Her name was Sarah and she was a junior. Rory made sure to tell her that I was paying for lunch since I had lost the bet. Sarah hit him softly with the menu and laughed as she walked away. Rory ordered a burger with fries and a milkshake and I settled on water and a turkey and avocado wrap. He was incredibly friendly and kept the conversation light and breezy.

  “So you’re new here, huh?” he asked. I nodded yes, as I took a drink of my water.

  “Do you have your schedule with you? Maybe we have some classes together.”

  “I do have it with me actually.”

  After a quick rummage through my backpack, I found my new class schedule, and handed it over to Rory. He looked it over with his forehead crinkling as he concentrated.

  “Hmm,” he said, “bad news is we don’t have any classes together.”

  He peered up at me, caught a look of disappointment on my face, and laughed again.

  “Aw, I’m touched you care so much, but don’t worry, you’ll get your fill of me. The good news is that we are on the same floor of the same dorm. I’m on twelve, too, in room 1204.”

  I smiled. Rory seemed nice and I was thankful to know someone else on my floor.

  After I paid for our lunch with the new, sleek, black credit card Margaux had entrusted to me, we walked back to the dorm. Rory talked the entire way, mostly about the Thursday night parties our floor throws and the beach parties he has at his parent’s house. We rode the elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor and Rory walked me to my door and leaned against the frame.

  “What do you have going on tomorrow?” he asked with a kind smile.

  “Nothing actually,” I shrugged.

  “Well, I usually spend the weekend with my family but they are all gone on some trip so if you want I can show you around town.”

  I ran my fingers in my hair again and then agreed. “Yeah, ok, that might be nice.”

  “K,” he smiled, “I’ll drop by your room tomorrow morning.”

  I forced a smile, shut the door and then flopped, face first, on to my bed. I wished I had told him no. Rory was nice. Way nice. I just hoped he didn't intend our planned time together to be a date.

  The day had been overwhelming – new car, new school, new room, new faces and names. The “new” was having a hard time soaking in. The old was looming behind me.

  Bed time was a ways off yet, so I went through my class syllabuses line by line. After that bit of mental exercise, I unloaded my book collection onto the shelves above the desk. That task took a total of five minutes. I pulled out and unfolded my worn paper and added tally mark No. 8. Seven days since my mother’s death, eight dreams I had had of it. Killing time in this tiny space was going to be a challenge. I sat on my bed, leaned my head against the wall and finally cried.