She shrugged and started hanging up my blouses for me.
"I don't think I can give anyone as much love as he needs right now and be true to myself.
"But that's just me," she said quickly. "Maybe it will be different for you."
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked.
For a moment she looked like she wasn't going to answer. She kept hanging up my clothes. My words seemed to linger in the air. frozen.
"I almost had a sister. My mother miscarried."
"I'm sorry."
"It was very bad. I mean, she took it very badly. She actually had a sort of mental breakdown.
"She's all right now," she added quickly. "That's good."
"Hi," we heard someone say, and turned to see a very attractive girl with strawberry blonde hair and very bright green eyes. She had the demeanor of a fashion model, with a natural air of confidence. "I'm Rose Wallace," she said. entering.
"Cinnamon Carlson. This is Honey Forman," Cinnamon replied.
The three of us stood there a moment, contemplating each other like three gunfighters unsure of what one or all of us would do next. Were we going to be great friends or ruthless competitors?
Rose glanced around my room.
"Aren't these rooms nice?" she asked. "The whole place is so incredible, For New York City, that is." She gazed out my windows. "I'm right next door. See, we both look out over the gardens. I thought you were next to me on the other side," she told
Cinnamon, "but someone else is in there. She's had her door closed since she arrived. Ms. Fairchild told me her name is Ice. Either of y'all know her or meet her?"
"I just arrived." I said.
"No. I haven't met her either," Cinnamon said. "Why is she locking herself up in her room?"
"I didn't say she was locking herself up. She just hasn't come out yet."
"If she's shy, she's in the wrong place. That's for sure." Cinnamon said.
"I don't know what's the right place for shy people anymore, except maybe on the Internet. You can talk to people without facing them," Rose said. When I raised my eyebrows, she added. 'Not that I do that. My half-brother Evan does, but he's disabled, in a wheelchair, and stays at home. Lately. I've gotten him to go out more.
"Actually, he and I never met until this year." She stopped and looked from Cinnamon to me. "Why do I feel like I'm babbling at y'all?"
"Maybe you're as nervous as we are. Where are you from?" Cinnamon asked her, "Somewhere in the South. I can hear."
"Georgia: and you?"
"Yonkers."
"I'm from Ohio," I said.
"What about Ice?" Cinnamon asked. Rose shrugged. "I don't know any more about her than her name."
"Maybe she's frozen in there," Cinnamon told her, and we all laughed, "Are you an actress, too?"
"I'm a dancer, but you know here we're supposed to work on the whole creative person." Rose said, repeating what we were told about the schooling.
"I play the violin." I said. "I don't think I could act and I'm not much of a dancer. I like hiding behind my music."
Cinnamon stared at me a moment. She had a way of making her eyes so small, her gaze so intense, that you couldn't look away or ignore her. The rest of her face seemed to freeze and become a mask.