On My Own Read Free Page A

fair and is probably judgmental, but it's my first impression. And this is a diary to record my honest feelings.
    “Oh, you're here,” she said with obvious disappointment right after she burst into my room. (I'd already gotten to thinking of it as “my” room and felt slightly stunned to have a stranger just walk right in without even knocking.) “Are you Caitlin O'Conner?” And the way she said my name sounded like she was talking to a little girl.
    I stood up, trying to hide my surprise. I smiled and stuck out my hand. “Yes. Are you Elizabeth?”
    Next came a half smile and weak handshake. “Yeah. My friends call me Liz.” There was a slight pause as she carefully looked me up and down, taking in my striped sweater, worn jeans, and pink bunny slippers (which had never embarrassed me until now). And suddenly it's like I knew what she was thinking–like she wasmentally replaying every dumb blonde joke she'd ever heard, like she immediately assumed that due to my looks I was nothing more than a superficial airhead. And I resented it.
    “I suppose you can call me Liz too.”
    I could hear the obvious disdain in her voice. I'm sure she meant for me to hear it, but I still tried not to appear too flustered. “I, uh, I was worried something might be wrong,” I began as she turned her back to me and dumped a couple of duffel bags onto her bed. “You didn't miss registration, did you–?”
    “First off, Caitlin–” she turned around and again spoke in a way that made me feel as if I were about five years old–“I don't expect you to think you need to keep tabs on me. I don't need a sister or a mother or a baby-sitter. Understand?”
    I'm sure I must've blinked and stepped back. “Sure.”
    “And just because we're roommates doesn't mean we have to be all buddy-buddy, sharing secrets, giggling in the middle of the night, that kind of childish tripe. If I'd wanted that crud, I'd have joined a stupid sorority.” She eyed me suspiciously. “In fact, you look like you'd fit in just fine with a sorority.”
    I felt pretty sure this was meant as an insult. “Well, looks can be deceiving.” I was really on the defensive now.
    She laughed but not with humor. “So, do you get me then? Do you see where I'm coming from? This is just a room that we have to share, that's all. Understand? Capisce?”
    “Yeah, sure, that's fine.”
    “Good.” Her face relaxed a little.
    Without thinking I spoke again. “But I guess I hoped we could at least be, you know, just casual friends.” Okay, big mistake.
    She turned back around from her unpacking, with a black leather belt hanging limply in her hand, then looked at me hard–actually it felt like she glared at me, but that could've been an overreaction on my part. “Do you mind if I'm blunt with you, Caitlin?”
    “No, of course not.” But to be honest I was worried she might actually walk over and smack me with her belt.
    “I don't have many friends. But it's for a good reason. You see, I think that only shallow people fill their lives with too many friends and acquaintances. I, on the other hand, choose my friends very judiciously.”
    I think I said, “Oh,” or something else equally impressive.
    “So, if you don't mind, I'd like to unpack in peace.”
    “No problem.” I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. “I was on my way to the bookstore anyway–”
    “Caitlin. You don't have to tell me where you're going. Don't you get it? We don't have to check in with each other. Let's be adults here.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Don't be.”
    Well, let me tell you I got out of there as quickly as possible. And immediately a flood of emotions tumbledthrough me. The old Caitlin (the-before-I-knew-God Caitlin) was screaming: “What a complete jerk! What a total idiot! Liz Banks is an absolute moron! How can I possibly room with someone like that?” Another, more logical part of me began to consider the practical steps for switching roommates–should I do it now or wait