Taylor had half-walked, half-jogged back to the dorms. She would have run, but wearing flip-flops made it difficult, especially on the sidewalks, which were still slick with rain. When she arrived back at Shyloh Hall, the all-girl freshman dormitory that she had been assigned to, she took the stairs to the seventh floor. The elevator was hit-or-miss—sometimes arriving in one minute, and other times not coming at all—and she was anxious to get back to her room.
Out of breath, she opened the door to room 715. Samantha was lying on her bed, flipping through a fashion magazine. Despite being dressed down by her standards—wearing only blue cotton shorts and a white tank-top—Sam still looked stunning. She had probably just come back from the gym, part of her daily routine. In Taylor’s mind, Sam was beautiful in all of the ways that guys liked. She had long legs and good curves, blond hair that always seemed to fall just the right way, and a dazzling smile with perfectly straight, white teeth. She usually jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend in high school, and Taylor expected college to be the same. Taylor didn’t mind it though; she preferred to have someone else to take the attention away from her.
Taylor did not think of herself as pretty. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a very average girl with straight brown hair, mild brown eyes and a rather crooked smile. Her dating experience was virtually nil, but she liked it that way. She was comfortable in her own skin and liked building friendships with girls and guys without the pressure of flirting.
“Oh, hi, Tay,” Sam said. “Where have you been?”
“You know, the usual.”
“Still trying to find that clover?”
“Yeah.” Taylor considered whether to tell Sam about her conversation with Gabriel, but decided against it for now. She hated keeping secrets from her, but there really wasn’t much to tell.
“You’ll find it, don’t worry.” Sam stood up. “I hope you don’t mind, I finally finished unpacking and had to borrow some of your closet space. It will only be temporary, I promise.”
Taylor shrugged her shoulders. She had never quite understood Sam’s need to wear a different outfit every day of the year, or even every day of the month, for that matter. If she could find clothes that were clean and relatively unwrinkled, Taylor was happy.
Sam, on the other hand, liked to dress based on whatever the current fad was, and would quite often give her new clothes to her younger sister after only wearing them for a few months, if at all. “Out with the old and in with the new,” Sam liked to say. Sam didn’t come from a wealthy family, but had worked through high school to fund her shopping habit.
“Also, while you were gone, I made a few more friends on our floor. I’ll introduce you.”
Taylor smiled, happy that she was rooming with “Social Sam,” as she jokingly called her sometimes. Taylor liked being social and liked having friends, but didn’t particularly like having to go out and make them. Samantha eliminated that need, as she had an uncanny ability to make friends and was happy to introduce them to Taylor. In a non-English speaking foreign country, with a bunch of kids at a daycare, at an adult dinner party: Sam could make friends anywhere.
“Okay,” Taylor replied.
“Great.” Sam tried to grab her hand but she managed to slide it away. Sam chuckled—she was fully aware that Taylor wasn’t into that kind of thing. Taylor followed Sam to room 714, which was immediately next to their own room. The door was open and Sam walked in without knocking.
“Marla, I’ve got someone for you to…,” she started to say and then stopped, realizing she was intruding. “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have knocked.”
Taylor peeked around Sam and saw a tiny, sprite of a girl with her arms wrapped around a guy, clearly having been interrupted from a serious make out session.
“No, don’t even worry about it,” the girl said, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Boyfriend is my Jennings from high school…I mean, Jennings is my boyfriend. We should’ve closed the door, but one thing led to another…” she managed to stammer.
“Hi, I’m Jennings.” The tall, skinny, freckle-faced boy with glasses extended his hand in greeting.
Sam said, “I’m Sam and this is my best friend from high school, Tay…I mean, Taylor.”
“Nice to meet you. Where are you guys from?” Taylor asked.
“We actually grew up here, in Collegetown,” Jennings replied.
Marla was still rather flushed and seemed incapable of speaking. Taylor could tell right away that she would like these two. They seemed normal, like her.
As usual, Sam filled the void in the conversation. “Has your roommate arrived yet, Marla?”
Marla found her voice. “Not yet, but when I spoke to her over the summer, she said she wouldn’t arrive until just before classes started, so I’m not expecting her.”
“Did she seem nice?” Taylor asked.
“I think so, but she also seemed a bit strange. She confirmed about three times that we were in room 714 in Shyloh Hall.” Marla frowned as she said this, clearly concerned that she might be the one stuck with an oddball roommate for the year.
“Well, you can always request a transfer if you don’t get along with her, and then we can apply for a triple room for next year,” Sam said.
Marla’s face brightened at the prospect, and she exclaimed, “That sounds perfect!”
Jennings laughed. “Geez, Marla, we’ve barely been here two weeks and you’re already plotting to remove your ‘evil’ roommate who you haven’t even met yet, and replace her with two girls who we just met, no offense to either of you. You should meet my roommate, now he is an odd duck. I haven’t seen him leave the room yet and every time I come in, the lights are off and he’s shouting commands into his head set. I think he actually believes that he’s the general of an army, and not just playing a virtual reality video game. I assume that he’ll leave to pee and shower and such, but he has enough packs of instant noodles to feed him for the entire semester.”
Taylor laughed. She was starting to like this pair. She said, “Sounds like my type of guy. Low maintenance.”
“I’ll introduce you,” Jennings joked.
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Sam asked.
Marla shrugged. “We don’t really have any plans.”
“Should we go have dinner in the Commons?” The Commons, or the Common Area, was the central portion of the dormitories, where students would gather to eat, watch TV, shop, and shoot pool, among other things.
“Yeah, let’s go. I could eat three horses as just an appetizer,” Taylor said.
Marla and Jennings agreed to go too and, due to another elevator malfunction, they were forced to trudge down seven flights of stairs. Upon reaching the ground floor, they headed towards the Commons. As they walked, Marla and Jennings held hands quietly, while Sam kept up a running chatter in Taylor’s ear as they passed various freshman boys. “He was cute, don’t you think?” or “Wow, he was hot, right?” were her typical comments.
Taylor tried to tune her out and replied with, “Mmmm,” or “Yeah, Sam,” while she escaped into her own thoughts. Despite having friends with her, Taylor was unable to shake the feeling of unease from her unexpected meeting with Gabriel. Gabriel Knight, she thought. Who the hell was this guy? Taylor tended to be a good judge of character and something about Gabriel rubbed her the wrong way, like an itchy hive. Perhaps it was the confident way he had approached her, but that certainly wasn’t uncommon for testosterone-filled freshman guys. He had called her unusual, but that didn’t really bother her either. Despite her sarcastic reply, she had thought it sounded more like a compliment than an insult. More likely, her unease was due to him giving her the four-leaf clover, as if he could read her thoughts, coupled with his subtle glow and black eyes. She had to admit, the intensity with which the memory of her nightmare had assaulted the synapses in her brain after meeting him had unnerved her.
Growing up, her mom used to tell her that she h
ad a good gut. Taylor always laughed when she said this. She thought her gut was pretty much the same as anyone else’s. It wasn’t until she got older, after her mom had passed on, that she began to understand what her mother had meant. Taylor was acutely aware of a vague sixth sense that she possessed. Unlike her other senses, she seemed to have very little control over this one. Instead of being able to access her ability when needed, it appeared whenever and wherever it wanted to.
She had tried to explain it to Sam, but she just thought Taylor had good instincts. Taylor believed it was something more, something her mom was aware of and maybe possessed too. Her dreams and even her nightmares felt like they had hidden meanings, if only she could connect the dots. She also had feelings sometimes, and usually they turned out to be right. Like when a person was lying to her, or when someone meant her harm. Whatever it was—a good gut, a sixth-sense, or just good instincts—Taylor had learned to trust her feelings. And right now her gut was telling her to watch out for Gabriel Knight.
Throughout dinner, her fears continued to dominate her thoughts. She knew she wasn’t making a very good impression on Marla and Jennings, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the conversation. Luckily, Sam was there to pick up the slack. When they were finished eating, Sam suggested they go shoot some pool, but everyone declined; Marla and Jennings were heading to a movie and Taylor wanted to relax a bit.
Sam headed to the pool hall alone, but Taylor didn’t feel bad about it. She would probably make ten new friends before the night was over. Taylor walked back to the dorm alone and climbed the stairs to her room.
She lay on her bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. Trying to work….something out. At times it felt like the answer was right in front of her eyes and yet impossible to see.
At around ten, she turned off the lights and tried to sleep. A shiver shook her spine, but she wasn’t cold. Her sixth sense, maybe. She felt apprehensive, threatened. Like someone was watching her, plotting her demise. She sat up and looked out the window into the darkness. There was no one there. Her window overlooked a massive parking lot. The closest building was half-a-mile away. Someone would need high-powered binoculars to spy on her from there. Maybe my gut isn’t as reliable as mom believed, she thought.
Chapter Five: Angel Evolution