I listen while Asch spins out his fantasies for me.
They’re a lot tamer than mine.
In his version, Pandora still comes out the same.
We’ll play it his way first.
There’s plenty of time to grind her down into nothing.
And when I’m through, she’ll even thank me for it.
5
PANDORA
After a long day of classes, I’m ready to collapse into bed. They were all intro classes, of course, the profs giving us a class agenda and introducing themselves, but I can already foresee a lot of late-night study sessions and last-minute assignments for me.
I wish I could skip the theoretical and get straight to the hands-on stuff, but apparently autopsies are reserved for the older students.
That seems a bit ageist, if you ask me.
Maybe I should ask Uncle Slayer if he’ll give me an in-depth anatomy lesson.
I open my dorm suite door and stop short when I see who’s sitting at the small kitchen table.
My new roommate, whom I somehow haven’t bumped into until now—except I have.
Her bland white shirt blends in with the bland white walls. Elite university or not, their interior designer must be an escapee fromBasic Beige Addicts Anonymous.The kitchenette is as white as the walls, and I know a single drop of blood would stand out starkly on the white tile.
My roommate’s black shoes and skirt match the kitchen table.
“You?” I ask with a laugh. “Seriously?”
It’s the same woman I’d met while grabbing condoms on my first day here. She glares at me. “Oh, great,” she says, her lip curling in disgust. “Of course I get the disease-ridden whore as a roommate.”
I grin widely at her, completely unbothered by the comment. “Aw, it’s not so bad. Think of all the fun stories you’ll be able to tell your friends. ‘The other night, Pandora brought home?—’”
“Pandora?” the woman repeats. “As in the woman responsible for all the ills in the world?”
I laugh. “Yes, that one. My papa thought for sure I’d cause society’s downfall.”
“You probably will,” she mutters. “Anyway, I’m Samantha, and you’re going to stay out of my way.” She crosses her arms against her chest.
“Hi, Sam.” I wave my hand in greeting and finally close the suite door. “As long as you don’t mess with my stuff, we’re golden.”
“Samantha,” Sam hisses. “And I wouldn’t be caught dead near your things. In fact, the less I have to see of you, the better.”
“Sounds good.” I look past Sam at the closed door to her suite. I wonder who her parents are, that she was able to afford one of the private, two-person suites instead of the larger four-person ones.
It’s not only about money, of course.
It’s about connections, too. They don’t hand these privileges out to just anyone.
“What do your parents do?” I ask.
Sam purses her lips. “That’s none of your business. And didn’t we just agree we’d avoid each other?”
“Oh, we did?” I tilt my head at her. “I mean, that sounds like it’ll get tedious in the long run.”
