GRINERTIA

PANLAS - PT. 1

Panlas, Utah. A long ass drive, sure, but there was more to unpack than what meets the eye. Nice green all around, quietness, sheer peace, and in the center of it all was Panlas Memorial College. Smack dab in the center of the city, the school had already enrolled over 10,000 successful students throughout the past years the school kept running. Chugging for students, taking pocketfuls of moolah from every excited student to enter. This place wasn't just expensive, it was kind of...lavished too. The insides had pretty floors, sparkling walls, fancy lights, and rooms everywhere including dorms on campus. And guess what, my parents threw me in day one of them even discovering the place. It was surely the shittiest move they had ever made in my life. Sure, I was now nineteen and all I truly did was stay in my room, go to therapy at my local doctor's office, with the chiropractor and the dentist and the store—God, the list goes on. But there was no reason to put me out there. My parents thought I was some shiny trophy of a child, a one-of-a-kind malformed toy you'd find in a fast food place's kids' meal. Truly, they only had to be kind and understanding of how I was, but I was mostly dragged without consent from place to place for some 'bonding time' or 'to meet new friends.' Generous, guys.

My name is Faraday Tousman. Fara, I prefer Fara. At this moment I'm going to Panlas, I'm going to get a minor degree in fine arts. I haven't been drawing all my life, but the skill could be improved upon with some simple and 'professionally taught' classes. The problem with me even going out is for one: it's a long haul of a drive. Florida to Utah, born and raised to shunned new kid. The other reason is my condition. Grinertia, specifically Open Grinertia. It's a whole painful batch of genetic shit and disability that can't even be passed down...and holy hell, it's rare. Grinertia, as told all my life by specialized doctors, nurses, and physical therapists, is a genetic condition also classified as a disability where everything can function normally with no problem. No life threats, illnesses, or on and on are associated with Grinertia. The muscles around the mouth are only forced to one expression described as a 'permanent smile.' Of course, the Open labeling gives the main detail away. My mouth is always stuck in a toothy and wide smile that I can't even force myself to shut if I want to. I had to invent a special way of eating and drinking because there was no other solution. I could talk fine, but my mouth would, in my opinion, grotesquely only move the lips slightly and part my top and bottom teeth. Hell in life all packed in one happy smile.

Onto college life once again, I seemed pretty snug-fit with how it looked. It was the only thing I agreed with before being fully enrolled in a fine arts degree and booted to Utah of all places. We drove since our family wasn't truly the wealthiest to get a decent plane, the hours went by tediously, with with sudden stops for more fuel or food. It felt like everything was being swayed left and right in the financial parts of my parent's bank anyway. They wanted me to be genuinely happy, they knew I wasn't. Sending me off with some greasy food and a large way-too-sweet-to-consume tea felt like they wanted to make my send-off special before I had to live dorm life for my minor degree. It felt way too filling that I felt sick. I didn't even sleep the entire ride.

The slowly paced car trip was finally over as my tired eyes turned to the beautifully large and extremely welcoming entrance sign reading "Panlas Memorial College: From Here to Everywhere." A shittily cheesy slogan for such a dignified and perfectly-pearl college. My eyes rolled as I pulled up. Groups everywhere handing out flyers from booths, tents, and picnic spots. From frat parties to chess clubs; you name it they had it. I felt shunned, and and personally spooked immediately by all these diverse and trended people. I felt fashionable enough, with plenty of bows and hair clips, scrunchies, and hair ties. Compared to these people, the hair accessories and 'unique' outfit I had truly screamed that I was not trendy enough for this school. I had to suck everything up, my parents were already out of the car with my father holding the door open like I was some celebrity or royal figure. I had to fumble a bit for what I needed. A pastel pink face mask with baby blue stripes. I felt it complimented my sarcastically dubbed 'pink lemonade' dyed hair. It was just a nice hot pink with pastel yellow tips. It was already embarrassing enough to see that almost everybody here had natural hair. They never seemed ashamed of their looks, and I was the idiot who would be dubbed for constantly wearing a face mask with mysterious intentions. I stepped out slowly to glance around before I was once and finally embraced in a tight hug from both my mother and father. It was genuine, farewells were said and embarrassing 'I love yous' were said before I was sent off. It felt like a true wave of separation anxiety immediately. And what a fun ride this to be as I walked the path to get my dorm plans and curriculum schedule.

"Hello miss! Would you agree to join our adventure in aid to defeat the ravenous Owlbear?" I was immediately caught off guard, my eyes showed it. It was just some random pencil-paper dice-rolling nerd with actual imagination. "No...no thanks." As said, being polite was key but the bitter and annoyed tone dripped off my words. I continued to walk, flyers and brochures were trying to enter my arms left and right. Chess, anime, computer tech, religion clubs. Frat parties, sports teams, LARPing groups, and other small diversity get-togethers coming at me left and right, all at once. It took even longer for me to get the unnecessary needs before the wants I had to take.

I finally reached the admin and registration table in the end, breathy and a bit irritable. "Faraday Tousman. Freshman here, fine arts curriculum."

It felt like those magic words took longer to process on those clunky, slow-running laptops they had specifically for this. They mumbled to each other in off-topic conversation while rooting through physical files.

"Miss Tousman, your schedule, dorm information, and identification are in this folder. You'll be in Dorm 2-C in the west area of the campus. Have a great school year." Those words felt to me robotic in a sense. They had everything on file, I rooted through my information to my dorm keys, legal certificates, schedule, student handbook, and an identification card already pre-made with an actual picture of myself in the current day without the face covering concealing pure insecurity and misery. I wish I could grimace fully, but I only did so with my eyes. This was embarrassing.

I was hoping for my dorm to be nice, lovely, and quiet. It was only a personal place, but if I wasn't put with a rich snob or some loud punk kid I would just accept anything. After a flight of stairs and a hauling walk across campus, I arrived—Dorm 2-C on the right hallway wall in the west area dorming life. I unlocked the door shakily to find...nobody yet. It was anxious anticipation to figure out who this mystery roommate was. Everything in here was already what I needed. An already made but purely bland bed, a small kitchen, one bathroom and shower with needed necessities, pretty lights complete with that shiny floor and walls I always had found dazzling and beautiful. There would be a trip back with all my millions of collected clothes and accessories returning in a few short days so that meant I had to stick with my current outfit and hair styling for days. It felt gross, but I had finally taken off my mask in relief as I was in serene thought that my roommate wouldn't be here, would take ages even.

The door was cracked open and I hummed tiredly to myself as I heard the sound. A sound of wheels clacking and whirring quietly against the carpeted floor before slowing to a stop. A tall figure peeked through the cracks and started to step in with a skateboard between his arms. I fumbled to put the mask back on before it was too late. I was a truly sweaty mess, my eyes felt like they were slowly drifting apart before I was offered a handshake from the male.

"Hey, you Dorm 2-C as well?" I awkwardly eyed the taller male up and down before I realized something, giving a sort of sweaty palm interlocked in return before I looked him in the eyes for the first time with intrigue and acceptance. I awkwardly spoke.

"You're just like- I mean, I am." My composure of mysterious and arrogant personality cracked at the sight. A joy to behold I wasn't alone in the bargain bin of rarities in life.

He was just like me.