Vanilla

Eight

[Vanilla]

"Hey um, is there a White in here?" Everyone stared. "I'm a student assistant from the, uh, administration office and someone's on the line, looking for Vanilla White. Apparently. It's about the campus accommodation he's applying for."

I wasn't necessarily a fan of my first name, well, no surprises there. And the fact that an incompetent fool named student-assistant-from-the-administration-office had announced it to the entire room without my consent honestly put me off. Yet, it wasn't quite enough to justify a lecture or filing a petty complaint; I was better than that.

The solution was simple: direct everyone's attention elsewhere and act perfectly confused. "White would be me. Unfortunately, you must be mistaken—I haven't applied for campus accommodation, so. You might want to give the name a check."

Already, I could tell that all eyes had turned to me. The least I could do to save myself from embarrassment was fixing my eyes on the student assistant, who proceeded to qualify Vanilla White as 'the nephew of Alfred Dempsey.'

By this point, I was clearing my throat in an all-too-obvious manner. "I appreciate your attempt to make things clear but, um. Could you, maybe, wait outside?"

"Sure," he piped, sounding perfectly clueless and unaware of the destruction he'd caused in a matter of seconds. Just how much he'd intended to reveal the private lives of anyone who had business with the office to not one, not two, but a room of journalists—I was both speechless and stunned.

The sound of gears turning in their heads moments before I'd left the room most certainly confirmed the piecing together of a headline story along the ridiculous lines of 'Boy Who Almost Bites Off His Tongue Gets Special Treatment By School's Rank No.3, Turns Out To Be Nephew of Alfred Dempsey.' Long, and terrifying.

Excusing myself and following the student assistant out into the hallway, I confronted him with crossed arms. "There are better ways of singling out someone you're looking for. You knew I was in that room."

"They said you'd be here after checking the system, so," the boy who had two badges pinned to the collar of his blazer shrugged it off. "As long as I find the right person."

He left me even more speechless than before, reduced to a nodding head that obliged to be taken to the administrative office without a clue as to why I was being called in the first place. Shown to the building which I proceeded to enter with tentative steps, I was told to wait at the reception counter, where a staff member was speaking to someone else on the phone.

Without warning, she slid a document attached to a clipboard across the counter and handed me a pen. 'Sign it,' she mouthed.

Obviously, I wasn't going to—a single glance at the thick paragraphs of extremely tedious wording made this out to some sort of contract. Naturally, I hadn't been doing or registering myself for anything that required such officiality and this was further confirmed by the heading of the document. 'Rules and Conditions of Exception Lodging Application & Testing.'

"Excuse me," I slid it back towards her. "I'm not quite sure why I need to sign this."

The staff behind the reception counter held up a hand before placing it over the receiver. "Your uncle called, dear. I'm already settling your online procedures. Would you like to speak to him?"

I nearly panicked. "Well—yes. Sure. I... okay." She smiled, handing over the receiver and returning to her computer of excel sheets and soft-copy documents.