"Oh, honey, I really wish you had chosen a different school. Are you sure you'll be safe? After all, these are... art kids. Liberals. Lesbians." A shudder racked her body. "Why couldn't you have gone to a more respectable college, Octavia?" Her mother's hands ran through her black hair, smoothing it away from her forehead as if she was a little kid again.
Jerking away indignantly, Octavia swept her hair behind her ear, tucking it safely away. She straightened her back, lifting her chin haughitly. "Mother, please. You know I've wanted to go Julliard ever since I was a little girl. If you didn't want this, you shouldn't have forced me to take those cello lessons", she tacked on sulkily, crossing her arms over her chest. Ocatavia knew that she was acting like a typical teenager but she couldn't help it. There were few things that could get under her skin like her parents and they were both in overprotective mode today. It was just college, for heaven's sake, not like she was going off to war or anything. Huffily, she picked up her cello case in one hand and her suitcase in the other.
Her mother's hand shot out to grab her wrist. "Oh, dear, don't go just yet. You've still got three hours before your flight; you can give us a little more time, can't you?"
A heavy hand settled on Octavia's shoulder and she glanced up to find her father smiling coldly down on her. "Of course she can stay a little longer, Marlene. Can't you?" His grip tightened and she fought not to wince until he suddenly lifted his hand, giving her head a rough pat.
"Yes, father. Of course. Just please remember that I have to be at the airport two hours before the plane leaves." Inwardly groaning, she set her cello case and luggage back down seating herself on the couch and crossing her legs, hands resting primly on her knees, just as her mother had taught her.
Marlene sat next to her daughter, brow creased with worry. "Your father and I are just worried about you, dear, you know that. I worry that you won't fit in. Those 'free-spirited' people... They're not like us. But I trust that you won't do anything I wouldn't approve of", she said with a tight-lipped smile.
Her father stood behind her, one hand running through her hair. "If any guy- or girl, for that matter- touches you, you come straight home, understood? There will be a lawsuit before they can say 'I'm innocent.'"
Octavia leapt up from the couch a little too qucikly, earning her a glare from her father and a painful tug on her scalp. "You two are too worried about me. Really, I'll be fine, I promise."
"If you ever need money, don't hesitate to call. Although I can't understand why you just wouldn't let us pay for it. George and I are more than willing", Marlene said, glancing up at her husband's face and giving him a tiny pat on his chest.
Octavia opened her mouth to give some half-baked explanation as to why she wouldn't accept her parent's money when her phone beeped, offering her a lifeline. She grabbed it eagerly, turning the screen so her mother and father could see. "I have to leave now if I'm to get to the airport on time." Stepping forwards she quickly embraced her mother. "I love you, mother." She let her adjust her black locks one last time before kissing her on one cheek and slowly turning to face her father.
George pulled her close to him, almost crushing her with his thick arms. This hug lasted far longer than her mother's had and she eventually cleared her throat, breaking his hold. Focusing on straightening her blouse rather than George's face, she stepped back, almost tripping over her cello case. Octavia clutched the handle, bending over stiffly to gather up her plain red suitcase. "I suppose this is goodbye. I'll visit on holidays, if I can."
She glanced up at her father who nodded in approval. "See that you do. Now go. You don't want to be late." His voice was gruffer than usual and he marched out of the room before Octavia could say anything else. Marlene gave her one last, small wave, tears just beginning to roll down her face before hurrying after her husband.
Blessedly alone, Octavia took a deep breath and headed outside where her family's car was waiting for her. She took one last look at the house that had been hers before handing her things to a butler that placed them in the trunk carefully. The driver opened her door for her and she let herself find comfort in the black leather interior that would carry her away to the place she'd dreamed of since her fingers first touched a bow.
Doors slammed and the engine started up smoothly. The car pulled out of the drive and eighteen years of history dwindled in the back window until they disappeared completely and Octavia could pretend that they had never even happened.
_________________________________________________________________________
The plane's wheels touched the ground a few hours later and Octavia jerked awake, rubbing at her eyes. She made her way off the plance, weaving through the crowd until she reached baggage claim. Her flight's luggage hadn't yet arrived and the teenager tapped her foot impatiently. A commotion off in the distance had her craning her neck to see if she could spot the disturbance.
"Wooooo!" A girl came leaping through the crowd, deftly skirting around people, missing them by mere inches. She was surprisingly graceful, seeming to know where everybody was headed a second before they did and deftly avoiding them. Something glinted in her hand and she glanced behind her, face flushed and eyes bright with a mixture of exctiment and nerves. Two or three security guards pounded behind her, shoving people out of the way in their eagerness to get to her.
She was an easy target to spot, Octavia noted. She was dressed more like a boy than a girl, baggy T-shirt paired with a pair of undecorated jeans and dull red sneakers. Her eyes were covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses, tinted black so that the lenses seemed to almost absorb the light. But the most noticeable thing about her was her hair. It was electric blue, streaked through with aqua and was cropped short, the bottom of it just brushing the middle of her slender white neck. That's when Octavia noticed the girl was rapidly getting larger.
"Get outta the way-!" The girl flew into her, knocking Octavia off her feet and sending her sprawling on the floor, a sharp pain blossoming in her elbow. There was also a fizzing noise followed quickly by a shriek.
The other girl rolled off of Octavia, hand clamped to her mouth. "WishIhadtimeformoreofanapology, butIgottago, seeya!" And with that, she was off again, security hot on her heels thanks to Octavia's reluctant intervention.
She sat up slowly, groaning and rubbing at her elbow only to find herself confronted by a myriad of stares. A couple of young boys had hands clapped over their mouths, snickering while their mother gazed at her with sympathy. An older woman sniffed with disdain as she passed, muttering something about 'young hooligans ruining the peace'. Carefully getting to her feet, she glanced down to smooth out her blouse almost shrieking when she saw the state of it. A big streak of red had taken up residence there, permanently ruining it. Spray paint. The girl had been carrying spray paint. The girl must have sprayed her with it when they fell, and Octavia silently heaved a sigh of relief that at least it hadn't gotten in her eyes.
Then she froze, realizing that this particular blouse had been a gift from her father and he had specifically picked it out for her to wear today. She would have to find another one just like it to wear when she went to visit. Cursing the girl, Octavia reclaimed her place at the front of the baggage claim, rubbing at her elbow and trying to ignore the stares she could feel. 'It's just a little spray paint, what's so fascinating?' she wanted to say, but instead she kept her eyes fixed on the luggage that had begun to chug out onto the carosel.
Half an hour later, Octavia found herself in a taxi on the way to Juilliard, a dark gray waistcoat covering up the red stain on her blouse. She gave the driver the address and dropped her head into her hands. Her fingers rubbed at her temples and she chewed on the side of her tongue, a habit she's picked up when she was little more than a child. Whenever she was feeling stressed her teeth would get to work; there had been days when she'd tasted blood from biting down too hard. Today had certainly been her definition of stressful.
The cab ride seemed to take forever, traffic blocking their way at every turn, and Octavia half-wished she could just get out and walk. Their crawling pace brought to mind the girl, or rather the way she had made short work of racing through the crowd. Irritated with herself, she smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead, trying to drive the image away. The girl was inconsequential, something to be forgotten. If only the red paint was as easy to leave behind.
She had to admit, the college was slightly intimidating now that she was here. The giant glass windows seemed to peer down at her and she imagined that each of them was an eye, judging whether or not she was fit to enter. Taking a deep breath Octavia straightned her back and squared her shoulders. "They invited me, I got accepted, passed my audition, they want me. Now act like it." Quickly sweeping a lock of hair behind her ear she walked inside purposefully heading straight to the registration desk.
A boy that looked to be only a few years older than her sat at the desk, shuffling through a stack of papers and muttering comments to himself. He had golden hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. At her approach he glanced up, offering her a buck-toothed smile that reminded Octavia of a horse's grin. "Well, hello there. What can I do for you?" He put a finger up in the air, stopping any reply. "No. Wait. Let me guess. Freshman registration? I'm right, aren't I? Knew it."
She gave him a tight smile in reply and a sharp nod. "While you are correct, don't you think you were a little presumptuous? After all, you didn't wait for an answer before saying you were correct."
"Ah, I know, I know. It's just kind of a thing I do. Drove my mother crazy, or so she claimed. I know she was really sad to see me go, though", he said good-naturedly. "Your name, miss?" He glanced down at the pile of papers, fingers already riffling through them.
"Octavia Tenor", she replied promptly.
The boy flipped directly to the T's, fingers combing through the names. "Tenor, Tenor, Tenor, ah here we go!" He handed her the paper with another smile and Octavia noted that his teeth were slightly crooked. "That's got your schedule and dorm assignment on it. If you need help with anything else, let me know and I'll do what I can."
Octavia glanced behind her as a group of five or six new students came and in and took the paper from his hand. "I should be fine, thank you. Goodbye." He gave her a wave before turning to the next person and she moved away from the desk, trying to balance her suitcase and cello case in the same hand to leave the other one free for her paper. Eventually she gave up and folded the paper into eighths, tucking it neatly in her pocket.
She entered the dorm lobby and frowned in slight disappointment. Exactly what she had been expecting, she wasn't sure, but it had been something a little more... spectacular. Instead it looked like any other college dorm. Shrugging it off, she made her way over to the elevator, scanning her key and punching the button for the second floor when she got in. The doors slid shut with a quiet ding and Octavia slumped against the back railing, giving her shoulders a rest from the strain of hauling her things around. The elevator came to a juddering halt and the doors parted.
A row of identical blue doors greeted her and Octavia realized she couldn't remember her room number. With a sigh of despair she set down her cello case, digging the paper out of her pocket and unfolding it carefully. A sudden blare of music made her jump, the schedule fluttering out of her hands and wafting slowly down to the ground. The walls to the left of her shook and she a muffled voice shouted something Octavia couldn't quite make out but the music stopped soon afterwards and she guessed it had been a shout of command.
Her stomach fluttered with worry. The music had seem to come from room 217, the very same room number written on her paper which she quickly bent down to retrieve, praying that her eyes had been tricking her. They hadn't been. Gulping, Octavia refolded the paper, moving forwards and placing her hand on the door handle. With a moment of slight hesitation she swung it open, praying that her ears had fooled her as to the location of the music. As soon as she saw the room she knew they hadn't.
A shock of electric blue hair turned her way and dark lenses met her eyes. "Oh, shit."
