Turning Point

It was hot and muggy and I felt wilted by the time we’d arrived. I fought through the crowd of people who just hung around the terminal and got lost twice trying to find the luggage claim. By the time I got there, my trunk was the only thing sitting on the unmoving belt. A tall man, about my age, was standing next to it plastering it with stickers.

It looked so ridiculous that I stopped and started laughing. By the time I’d gotten to it, he’d covered the entire top and most of the front.

“Sir? Hey there, that’s mine… sir?” He was standing with his back to me wearing dark jeans and a grey t-shirt. He didn’t turn around until I poked him in the shoulder.

He was beautiful… dark blue eyes and dark red hair that looked brown until the light hit it and flopped over one eye until he flicked his head to the side. His bottom lip was pierced on the right side, with a small silver hoop. On some it might look silly, but on him it seemed sexy.

He stood there, towering over me despite me being pretty tall, silent with a little grin on his face.

Deciding, after a pause, that he wasn’t going to explain himself, I decided to speak again. “You do know that’s my trunk, right?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” It had everything from advertisements for Italy to rock bands to happy face stickers on it. I decided it made the old trunk much better looking than it had before. “Well, thank you, then.”

Grabbing one side, I hefted it into my arms and went off in search of a taxi.

“Wait!” It wasn’t exactly uncommon to hear someone yelling in an airport, so I kept on walking until he caught up and started walking next to me. “That’s it?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it looks cool, so thank you.”

“I admit, I hoped a beat up trunk like that would belong to an old man who would threaten me with a cane, but you can’t seriously be okay with what I did to you.”

I cocked my head to the side. “What, was that a dare? You win if I punch you or beat you up with my cane? I don’t care what you did to my trunk.”

He stood up straight again and shrugged. “Oh.”

I hailed a cab and handed the newly decorated trunk over. “Better luck next time.”

The taxi smelled slightly of fried onions and stale sweat and not so slightly of marijuana. The driver, on my request, detoured through the French Quarter and past ancient Catholic churches flanked by live statues, hot dog vendors, and old women selling fortunes. A thirty-minute drive took us to Della and another ten to the academy entrance.

Della Academy was considered an alternative to college because of its unique living situations. The Academy was located on one long street in the suburban area of the town and consisted of twelve houses. They were all old and quaint looking, and each served as living quarters for the students and as classrooms. Students were sorted into their houses by their intended majors and extracurricular activities and took classes in their house as well as the other houses. The entrance to the academy was a little house sitting up on stilts with a well-tended garden and a lazy bayou meandering through the back yard.

I left my trunk on the driveway and made my way up a flight of stairs to the front door. A heavy woman with a thick Cajun accent greeted me with a cheerful “Where ya at?” which, because of my previous trips to the south, I knew how to answer.

“I’m just fine, ma’am. My name is Katie Huntsford; I’m here to register.”

“Huntsford? Oh, here ya are, child. You’re a journalism major?” She continued when I nodded. “Here’s your room assignments and dorm rules. The kitchen is stocked once a week, you can normally flirt a boy from the cooking school into making you food if you’re as hopeless as I am.” Her laugh resembled a foghorn; I nervously giggled along with her. “Your class schedule is provided at the house. You’re in…” she glanced into a thick file. “You’re in Lafayette. Ohh! That’s a good one, honey, lots of cute boys. It’s the double house at the end of the street before the curve, impossible to miss.”

She handed me over the file, and I meekly thanked her. “Oh, no trouble. See you around, yeah?”

“Yeah. Well, I’d better go find Lafayette.”

She was right, it was impossible to miss. It was a faded tan stucco house with brown Spanish tiles and a two-story deck with rusting iron gates separating one house from another half its size. The same bayou could be heard in the backyard. I entered into a fancy stone hallway.

“Hello?”

“In here.” The voice was somewhere off to my left so I walked through a dining room done in pure white with thick emerald carpeting and out another door into a less formal living room. A perky brunette wearing a light sundress was standing near the glass door that displayed an amazing looking yard.

“Hi! You must be Katie. I’m Mandy, the editor of the paper. You’re the only addition we’re getting this semester, but we’re so excited to have you because you have experience with a camera and have glowing recommendations on your writing. We’re the least popular major, but that’s okay because we all have our own rooms with some left over and even a room for our own printing press! Oh, come here, you have to meet the rest of our crew.”

I mutely nodded, stunned and confused by this girls fast-talking and vast amount of energy. I met a set of twins, a boy and a girl, who looked freakishly similar despite their sexes, when she led me past a small bar enclosed by a little half wall made of old brick and into a tiny kitchen. Another girl waved cheerfully from a industrial sized lawnmower on the back lawn.

Then we walked into the kitchen.

He stood leaning against an ancient refrigerator, looking satisfied. “Mandy, stop scaring her. Mandy is the only one who isn’t affected by the slow pace of things around here. I’m Austin.”

Blue jeans, grey shirt. Deep red hair that flopped over one eye I knew was dark blue. A lip piercing that looked insanely sexy.

I hadn’t been embarrassed in the airport but I could feel the blush on my cheeks now.

“Did you… did you plan that?” I couldn’t help but ask.

He grinned. “Nope, can’t say that I did. Isn’t it great, though?”

Mandy looked confused, so I turned and explained our first meeting.

With a giant, fake smile, she laughed. “Oh! Well, that’s sweet!” She tugged my arm painfully and turned me away. “Watch out he’s trouble. He’s kissed every girl at Della and slept with at least half of them,” she whispered, cattily.

“Mandy’s just mad that I didn’t sleep with her,” Austin whispered, directly against my other ear. I shivered. Mandy huffed.

“Well.” She pulled me away from him with contempt. “Lets show you the dorm now. Your room is…” Austin had crept up again, so she pulled me farther and harder. Whispering again, she told me my room was on the left of the stairs, two down.

“Mandy! Hey,” he yelled cheerfully, “guess what?!”

She turned and narrowed her eyes.

“I live here. Bet you didn’t know that. I live in one of the seven rooms in this house. Only one is empty. I’m not an idiot, Mandy.” He winked at her in a manner that was distinctly provocative and somehow slightly insulting. Then, turning to me, he informed me that his room was the one directly to the right of the staircase.

I felt overloaded so I spent the rest of the afternoon in my new bedroom arranging my few belongings. It was horrendous, truly… a mess of deep red industrial carpeting missing any padding underneath and dark wood paneled walls. Two big fans kept the air circulating, and a giant and obviously ancient pool table dominated the front half of the room. The back half had a full sized bed that felt like a rock with a door and bookshelf taking up the rest of the wall. The door lead out to the upper level of the deck.

I displayed my trunk at the end of the bed.

By the time I’d settled in, I’d worked up a sweat so I changed into short sleep shorts and a tight camisole. It was one of the few things I owned that showed off my awkward gangly body. My legs were too skinny to be considered sexy and my torso too long and flat to be feminine. I’d spent the past year growing out my strawberry blond hair so it touched the bottom of my shoulder blades. Freckles touched my nose and cheeks and shoulders, the only relief to my pale skin. My friends at home often teased me for my looks; I didn’t blame them… I’m a far cry from the average petite girl.

I sighed, exhausted by the day and the people I’d met. Overloaded. A stereo, old and nearly three times the size of the dainty ones sold today, took a little playing around with but soon blared an eclectic mix I’d made before I left home.

I stood back and leaned against the pool table, taking in what I’d done with the pathetic space. Even with its eerie décor and uncomfortable furnishings, it felt more like home than home ever did.

The knock that came next wasn’t timid in the least. Three strikes, then a few seconds pause then three more. By the time I’d gotten to the door, my visitor seemed impatient.

Austin stood, leaning against the doorjamb with one hand poised to knock again. “I thought you were ignoring me,” was his only explanation.

I opened the door a bit further as an invitation in and went to explore the dated books on the bookshelf.

“Soo…” I heard him say behind me. “Hey, do you want to play pool?”

I looked incredulously up at him, shaking my head no. “I don’t even think it’s a working table, Austin. No pool balls or sticks that I can find.”

“Seniors threw them into the bayou at graduation a few years back, at least I think so.”

“Oh.” The room was stifling despite the fans being on high, and he was wearing long pants. “Do you want to go outside?”

He cocked the one eyebrow that I could see. “You think it’s hot in here? Welcome to summers in Louisiana. You’re not from around here…it’ll take some getting used to. There should be a trip to the city coming up soon, before classes start.” He crouched and settled close to me. “The tradition is to add a book from a used book store; the most random one you can find. There’s a shelf in each room.”

I nodded. He leaned in closer. “So, you should start thinking about your addition…” His voice was lower; sexier but in a way that made my skin crawl.

He leaned in even closer, but I put a hand to his lips. “Have you really kissed every girl here?”

The sensual look left his eyes. He looked sheepish when he nodded. “Slept with at least half?”

His voice was muffled so I took my hand away. “That’s an exaggeration!”

“A big exaggeration?”

“Well…” A smile came easily to his lips, moving the little silver ring up. I reached out and touched it.

“Well…” I mocked. “Well, not me. Okay?”

He stood up and muttered something. I caught a few curses and the word “ice.”

“You think I’m cold?” I stood to meet him, using one useful skill that my friends had taught me. One hand came to rest on the side of his neck, the other low on his hip moving slowly across his waist. “Maybe I am cold… or maybe your really missing out.”

He smirked, taking it in stride. “Touché. Come on, I’ll cook us dinner. Peace offering?”