Chapter 1 – Because I don’t know what to call the book yet.

Right. I’m going to post up a book that I started work on recently (yes, it’s another one) chapter by chapter. These will not be regular, but that’s just the way writing whilst in my last year of University whilst preparing to take the American SATs works; I sometimes just have too much stuff on my plate!

Regardless, I present chapter 1 of a book that I don’t know the name of yet. Names are hard. 😦 Feedback is welcomed as usual, as is pointing out grammatical slips!


The morning sun pierced through the windows, illuminating the small room with natural light. It was basically furnished, two faux wood desks pushed against the wall by the window, an empty faux wood bookshelf against the opposite wall and a large built in wardrobe opposite the entrance. A metal framed bed was pushed up in the corner by the door, separating the wall from the desks by the window, with a second on the other side of the desk. The simple blue carpet and plain, white walls gave off the feeling of new, modern affordability.

Roseanne sat on the bed near the door, her coat across her lap as she twiddled her thumbs nervously, staring intently at the opposite, unoccupied bed through black, thick-rimmed glasses. She was young, eighteen years old with shoulder length, vibrant blonde hair, a fair skin tone and bright blue eyes. She was about average height, a toned physique beneath a pair of fitted denim jeans and grey blouse with red Converse high tops adorning a pair of small, well-proportioned feet. She was a mildly attractive individual, though her slight lack of care pierced through her poorly attended features. Her hair was pulled into a simple, yet practical pony tail and her makeup was simply applied, a light dusting of eye shadow surrounding a pencil thin line of eyeliner.

She wondered what her room mate would be like. How would she react to Roseanne’s presence? Would she be friendly? Every plausible question that she could think of swirled around Roseanne’s mind like a hyperactive goldfish in a bowl. She took a moment to look at her suitcase which remained sealed by the bedside. She had to unpack, though she was too racked with nerves to consider it. Massachusetts was far from her home in Tennessee. It was notably colder this far north, the mentality of people was wildly different and the urban surroundings of the university accommodation contrasted the ambience of the family farm almost totally.

Her gaze snapped around to the door as the silence that flooded the room was broken by the sound of the door opening. A woman peered into the room with a rather large suitcase in tow. She had bright red hair, though otherwise her colouring was similar to that of Roseanne. She was wearing a brown coat, dark, denim jeans and a matching grey, woollen hat and pair of gloves. For a moment, Roseanne just stared awkwardly, though her expression quickly shifted to that of a friendly smile.

“Hey there,” Roseanne announced, waving a hand.

“Hello,” the woman answered, a questioning expression on her face as she entered the room. She took a seat on the other bed on the opposite side of the room, dumping her suitcase by the end. “I take it that you’re my room mate?” she asked, looking upon Roseanne with a quizzical expression. Her accent sounded more foreign than Roseanne’s, much to her surprise.

“Yep,” Roseanne replied happily, her smile remaining on her face, “name’s Roseanne. Roseanne Jackson, but you can call me Rose if you want.”

“Leila De Fiore, pleasure to meet you,” Leila responded as she removed her hat and gloves, leaving a rather messy head of hair behind as the wool clung to red strands. She rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out a hairbrush and a small container of powder-based foundation, flipping it open and tending to her, now unkempt, hair.

“Likewise,” Roseanne said, though her concentration was elsewhere for the moment. She pondered the red-headed woman curiously for a moment. “Say, Leila? Could I be so bold as to ask where you”re from? If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t sound American.”

Leila grinned, turning to face Roseanne with a wry smile. “Syracuse, New York,” she revealed, still grinning as she turned her attention back to her mirror, brushing her hair carefully. Roseanne opened her mouth to speak, though she was cut off as Leila chuckled, shaking her head. “Sorry for the guilt trip, Rose. I grew up in Milan, Italy, but moved here when my father’s work brought us over. I’ve only been in America for a few years.”

“Ah,” Roseanne responded, her view shifting to the floor for a moment as an awkward silence coated the room.

“So what about you?” Leila questioned, still looking into the mirror, though she had now deposited the hairbrush back into her bag.

“Me? I grew up on a farm out in the sticks. Born and raised in Tennessee.” Leila grinned once again, though it was hard to tell if it was due to something in the mirror or Roseanne’s words. Roseanne could not help but notice that her room mate was incredibly vain; a trait that Roseanne did not share.

“So, Rose. You doing anything later? Some of the students in the opposite block are having a party.”

“Huh? Are we invited?”

“Well, I am. Therefore, by extension, so are you.”

“I am not so sure,” Roseanne started, though Leila shut her foundation case with a loud snap.

“Listen, Rose, this is just how college works. I’m invited, so my room mate is invited,” Leila replied, placing the foundation case back in her bag before looking back over to Roseanne with a confident smile. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. A chance to get to know everyone we’re going to be living near, plus I need a reliable wingman.”

“Oh, fine. How can I resist such an invitation,” Roseanne confessed, shaking her head with a chuckle, “but you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you, deal?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leila replied with a grin, “the cowgirl and the city girl. We’re going to be one hell of a team.”

Minutes of conversation turned to hours. The pair of newly acquainted room mates had lunch in a nearby café whilst they discussed differences and similarities, what degrees they were studying and such topics. Leila, as it turned out, was studying political science. By the time they got back to their accommodation, it was almost time to head across to the party, leading to the pair frantically changing clothes and decorating themselves with hastily applied makeup and unpacked jewellery. They eventually settled on their appearances, Leila taking a significant amount of time longer than Roseanne, and made their way to the party.

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