Page 10 of Ruthless Dream

I picked out the pencil skirt, button-down, and high heels with meticulous care the night before.

“I would think you’d be glad your younger sister is taking her future career so seriously,” I tell Nat.

She works in finance and had a job right out of university too. She lives by her planner and watches black and white movies for fun. We should be bonding over our mutual sophistication instead of whatever elderly sister chiding this is.

“Well, apparently not serious enough if you’re showing up in inappropriate clothes.”

My skin heats, the zing of Nat’s barb hitting me harder than usual. I shuffle along with the swell of people getting off work. Usually I’m buoyed by the chaos in the city, but this afternoon I’m wilting around the edges.

I’m never like this. I’m not Lennie, a wallflower afraid to stir shit up. I’m not the chill Natalie with her book club reads and long-term relationship. I need excitement. Most people get overwhelmed, but I’m the type that likes to stay moving.

Mama said the same thing as Nat. That I should ease into school and wait for internships. I told her I could handle it.

And I will. I’m self-aware enough to know everything is still new. It’s just a couple of weeks into school. Everyone in the dorm is still learning to get along with each other. I’m easing into my routine.

“I’m sending you a photo,” I say after a prolonged silence. One in which I hope Nat realizes she went too far with her comment.

I took a selfie before I left the dorm. I plan on it exonerating me from Nat and the HR lady’s tirade against pencil skirts.

“Okay,” Nat says after a moment, and my chin picks up. “So maybe she was being a bit of a dick.”

I don’t feel as vindicated as I normally do.

“Look, kid,” Nat starts. “You’re going to meet some crazy people in the corporate world. Jealous, petty people who have little emotional intelligence. Wear some slacks next week and don’t let this become a thing. Don’t let them see a reaction.”

Mom drilled us with the concept of ‘let things roll off your back,’ so I know where she’s coming from.

“How are the roommates?” Nat asks. She swung by on move-in day and waved at Trish and Rina. “I hated my roommate. Raging bitch.”

I remember copious texts when Nat first went away to university.

I shake hair out of my face. “Luckily, it’s not like that?”

“Really?” Nat asks. “Because I thought it’d be worse, sharing with two roommates.”

My skin heats. It’s not ideal.

Okay, it’s downright awful.

I wanted to live in the dorm. Mama suggested I live in an apartment, but only because she’s paranoid about our security. It’s easier to control me in an apartment rather than a dorm.

I fought so hard for my freedom, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever admit that last night Rina sat naked on her bed and plucked every single one of her pubic hairs off.

Maybe she has trichotillomania.

Maybe Rina must pluck the hairs out. Either way, I learned that I’m not allowed to say something about my roommate's pussy being out because when I mentioned it to Trish I was told I needed to chill and not be so offended.

“You know roommates are hit or miss,” Nat warns. “There’s still plenty of time to get annoyed by them.”

“I’m not going to get annoyed, it’s fine,” I lie.

“There are plenty of people in Brittany Hall and your classes. You’ll find friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Okay.” Is that a hint of placating in Nat’s voice, like she doesn’t believe me? “I can’t believe I’m telling you of all people, but like, please go out and have some fun this weekend.”

“Why me of all people?”