And They Were Roommates

2: Bring The Beat In (Anything For You, Beyonce!)

The next morning, the seniors had to have their dorms cleared out and be ready to go at noon sharp. Miss Wren informed us that Miss Peregrine despised running behind schedule, so we'd best be prepared to leave on time.

We'd all had our own dorm rooms at Miss Wren's High School For Gifted Students, though there were four years of students. It was because each class consisted of an incredibly small number; We had eight total in the senior class. The juniors had six, the sophomores had four, and the freshman had eleven. We were warned that there would be a lot more people at Miss Peregrine's College For Gifted Adults, which meant that there would be more people for the headmistress to dedicate her time to, meaning that we would have to be more responsible. We would meet peculiars from other high schools and would be forced to make new friends. It was all part of the college experience, or so Miss Wren said.

However, nobody could make me make new friends. I would attend classes and spend the rest of my time alone in my room. I wouldn't go to parties. I wouldn't join any clubs. I certainly wouldn't try to meet new people.

I gathered heaps of my clothing and shoved them into a duffel bag. I discovered things I'd thought I'd lost among the mess, like my favorite Slipknot shirt. Most of my wardrobe consisted of baggy garments and dark colors.

I owned a couple of books and notepads. I stuck them into the same duffel bag as the clothing. My headphones, chargers, and laptop also found their way into the bag.

In another duffel bag went my pillow and a pile of blankets. I stripped my sheets and tossed them into a mass on the floor, for Miss Wren had supplied them. Among the white bedclothes, I noticed a streak of dark blue. I yanked it out of the pile and stared at it, surprised.

The blanket wasn't large, but it wasn't small either. I'd forgotten that I'd brought it with me from home. It was the baby blanket my mother had given to me when I was little, before she'd run away with another man when I was nine years old. It had gotten tangled up in the sheets, and I had forgotten it.

I ran my fingers across it. The material was worn, but still soft. I remembered how tight I'd clutched it at fourteen years old, embarrassed that I still slept with it, but I was away from home among new people, and it was the only sense of comfort I'd had.

The door slammed open and I thrust it into my bag as quickly as I could. Jacob was standing there. "Hey, Enoch, lunch is in ten minutes. Miss Wren told me to let you know."

I nodded, my cheeks ablaze, hoping Jacob hadn't seen the blanket. "Okay," I responded.

He lingered in my doorway. "You good?"

"Yes."

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, did your parents give you that blanket before you left home?" Jacob's tone wasn't mocking or condescending, just simply curious. However, that didn't stop the sudden burst of rage and humiliation that flooded my mind, my face turning even redder than before. I marched over to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Listen, Portman, it's none of your damn business. You'd better not say a word about that. Even better, just forget you saw anything," I growled.

Jacob put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Your secret's safe with me." He smiled timidly.

I glared at him and released his shirt. "Get the Hell out of my room!" I barked.

He scampered away, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Dumbass," I muttered.

I shoved my toothbrush, deodorant, and the rest of my toiletries into the bag.