Hana

No way. NO WAY.

I was bouncing off the walls in my head when I saw my name listed in the email. It wasn’t a pipe dream! I finally had a second chance. It’s almost impossible, I mean ME of all people being listed with people like AYDEN and Anora Lenka? This was insane! What if I was roommates with a celebrity? I could hardly breathe—yet alone think!

I put on my best green top and jeans that I patched up myself. I dyed a streak of my hair blonde the night before and looked like a million bucks. Mom and Dad helped me with my bags as we made it through the airport. I waved to them and hugged them goodbye (for several minutes before they were asking people to line up) as I boarded the plane (I got a window seat!) and plenty of music and downloaded movies for the 10 hour flight. I plugged in my earbuds and leaned against the window as the plane went down the runway and took off.

This isn’t a dream, I’m going to the United States!

10 hours later I woke up and we were descending. I looked at the clouds through my window, so close I felt like I could touch them. I saw the lights on the ground turn to buildings as we landed in Austin Texas. There was supposed to be a bus picking up people at the airport. I gathered my luggage and waited for it outside.

It was awkward waiting by myself, that was until more people, who looked quite lost clumped up around me. There were four of them. The one who I noticed first was a blondish-redhead woman wearing a tasteful, almost vintage styled dress, looking out of place at an airport yet she made it look natural. She appeared to have come with an Asian man with medium length hair dressed formally, though admittedly not to her extent. I assumed they knew each other outside the workshop or at least met on the plane.

The last two were both men and they looked like quite the characters as well. The first was a lightskin man who had a suit pulled out from the 1930’s with a porkpie hat and black curly hair. He didn’t talk but he looked confident in his own body and his own name. I swore I recognized him, maybe he was famous, but I can’t remember where. The last was a shorter man who dyed his hair grey and dressed like someone who frequently went to Hot Topic. He ducked his head down to avoid eye contact and appeared to be the most anxious of us.

There was certainly tension. Not the kind that would make me hold my breath but more like an unwritten awkwardness. Nobody seemed willing to make the first hello. As cars and buses drove by and family rekindled and got into taxis, I tapped my foot, waiting for our bus.

By the time it did arrive, the bus driver opened the doors for us. Everybody besides the redhead girl and the formally dressed man sat by themselves. I would normally sit down next to someone and chat to pass the time, but nobody on the bus appeared approachable. I wanted to ask their names, where they came from, what they did involving music and how they got into this summer workshop. Instead I looked out the window and scrolled on my phone.

******

We had gotten on the road an hour ago and we were still on the road. I knew in my head that the United States was large, but wow. A ten hour flight plus a drive for who knows how long. Not just that and the roads were some of the biggest I had ever seen, if not the biggest. And the names of the roads were named after well known presidents and founding fathers. I would say it was almost parody but even if nobody was listening, I didn’t want to be disrespectful.

The man with the porkpie hat started making conversation, him sitting right behind the driver, “I must say, this is all pretty fancy”, he was addressing the bus driver, who didn’t respond. “Any special dirt on this place, or perhaps where we’re going?” Still no response. He continued, albeit dejected, “Or you know, anything about this company at all?” After the driver didn’t respond for a second time, he huffed and finally gave up.

Sights of buildings dispersed as the bus made its way off the highway into a presumably more rural part of Austin. Trees passed us by as the road ahead of us looked practically the opposite as to what we drove on having just left the airport.

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We’re getting close.

We begin to pass larger buildings, ivory and dark grey in colour surrounded by trees I hadn’t seen in my entire life, not even online. The bus stops by a silver gate and tall white walls wanted with gold at the top. Someone opens it, letting us in. We pull into awhite brick road lined with trees on both sides with those same white walls surrounding the road and likely the entire campus. We go through yet another gate and enter outside of a white building. We pull up next to another bus in front of us and the driver turned the engine off.

I waited for the students in front of me to get up before we all leave the bus. The people in the other bus were walking inside and were chatting amongst each other. Guess they got along better with their bus buddies than I did. The driver opens the truck and we scramble to take out our luggage. It’s funny, I half expected Mom and Dad to come out of the bus and help me with my bags. Mom and I packed a ton, after all I haven’t been away from home for a full summer– and in another country no less. It goes without saying, but the bags were a lot heavier without them.

******

I followed everyone else to a small white building and I shook the receptionists hand, waiting in line to give them my passport and ID. The person doing so led me to a green screen surrounded by lights with a camera in front of it and a man took a photo of me. After that they asked me to sign a waiver, I glanced over it and signed. Finally, they gave me my lanyard and I was free to go.

It read as follows: Hana, Class D. I guess the cass meant who I was going to be paired with.

I continued following people to the dorm buildings. As expected, one for men and one for women. I go into the women’s dorms to see only a few people bringing in their luggage and setting up. Some chatting inside their rooms with the doors open. Luckily, my dorm was only on the first floor when I saw my name next to my roommates.

“Serafina…”

I roll my luggage in and plop it down for what I hope is the last time for the entire summer.

The dorms were better quality than what you would expect from your standard college. The rooms were small but they had a restroom inside, I guess that counted for something. My roommate–Serafina–was already inside. She had set up her side of the dorm on the left bed that she was laying down on. She hung up posters with bands and political quips like “Eat the rich”, and“Punch your local nazi”

She definitely looked like the character of a punk or at least a modernized version of it. She had short, black hair, but it was dyed neon purple and green and had a matching jacket. She had socks and fishnets and was decked out in jewelry with some heavy makeup on. Maybe she leaned more on the side of scene or monster high doll fashion. She also had her stuff thrown aside. If I walked in here out of context, I would’ve thought she lived here for much longer. She had headphones in and seemed apathetic to my presence.

I begin unloading my stuff, but I give her a welcoming smile, just so she knows I’m not going to be a stuffy roommate or whatever. Serafina removes one of her headphones.

“Oh, hello.”

“Hi, I’m Hana.”

Serafina sits up right, pulling down her headphones all the way, I continue, “So we’re roommates, woohoo!” I try to sound moderately enthusiastic.

“Yep. I could tell.”

I immediately feel the conversation turning awkward. Crap, how did I make it go wrong so fast?

“So uhhh…what kind of music do you make?”

“Punk, rock, a bit of both, I dabble in emo stuff sometimes.”

That was obvious, “Oh cool ummm, I make uhhh.” Oh that’s right. I haven’t written and produced my own songs yet. “I do covers of country and pop and stuff.”

Serafina made a face of disapproval, unconsciously or not, “Ok.” My face was burning red.

“So where are you from, Serafina?” She was beginning to look a bit annoyed.

“Samoa?”

“Oh that’s lovely, I’m an international student too! I’m glad they paired us up!”

“I’m from American Samoa, it’s part of the United States…for now at least…dumbass.” she muttered the last part under her breath.

“Oh…good luck on that!” I had no idea what I was saying at this point and shot her a thumbs up, she had already put her headphones back on and I didn’t want to make my overwhelming embarrassment worse. Great, I talked to one person here and I blew it. I begin to unload my luggage, waiting for the first event.