My Sister Got Two Pink Princess Rooms. I Got A Trash Bag Chapter 05
After I left both family chats, my phone stayed quiet for about a minute.
Then it blew up.
Dad, Mom, William, Logan—all calling at once.
I swiped them all to silent and flipped my phone face-down on the dorm bed.
The RA walked me through check-in. “Your parents didn’t come with you?”
I shook my head.
She glanced at the thin canvas tote bag in my hand. Didn’t push it. Just took me to the dorm.
Four-person room. Bottom bunk by the window had my name on it—printed out, “Nora Hayes.”
Desk, closet, bed. Small, but clearly mine.
My two roommates’ parents were already there—making beds, hanging curtains, wiping down desks.
One mom was pulling a memory foam pillow and a humidifier out of a suitcase. Another dad was crouched on the floor, putting together a lamp.
Someone asked if my luggage was still on the way. I said I’d shipped my winter clothes and books ahead.
They didn’t know. Aside from what I’d sent, everything I’d managed to keep over eighteen years fit into one canvas tote.
I hung the few clothes I had left in the closet. Locked my acceptance letter and passport in the desk drawer. Pulled the dorm key out of my pocket, looked at it, put it back.
This was the first time I’d ever had a key that actually opened where I lived.
No calling ahead. No waiting outside for someone to remember to let me in.
No worrying that one day I’d come back and the lock would be changed.
That evening, the RA handed me a form to fill out. When I got to “Emergency Contact,” I stopped.
That spot used to be Logan’s.
Ever since eighth-grade wilderness camp, he’d always said: “No matter where you are, call me, and I’ll be there first.”
But the day before I left, he knew he was supposed to pick me up at seven. Still chose Claire’s star lights and pillows over me.
I crossed out “Logan” halfway through writing it. Put down my boarding school counselor’s number instead—the one person I knew would actually pick up.
I hadn’t even turned the form in ten minutes before my dad called through the school’s main office.
The RA handed me the phone, and the first thing out of his mouth wasn’t “Are you okay” or “Did you get there safe.”
“Nora, what the hell? Texas? You don’t just—” He caught himself, lowered his voice.
“How could you make a decision like this without telling me?”
I pulled up the screenshot on my phone and sent it to him again.
“I did. Once in Dad’s group. Once in Mom’s. Nobody replied.”
He went quiet for a second. “There are so many messages in those groups. How am I supposed to see every single one? Couldn’t you have called me separately?”
So it was my fault they missed it.
I should’ve chased every single one of them down and reminded them over and over.
Mom grabbed the phone. “Nora, come back. We can figure out the room situation. Your stepdad’s study can be cleared out. I’ll give you that room.”
I asked: “Is that his study or my room?”
She didn’t answer.
Dad jumped in—William could move out of the attic study first.
William’s voice cut through from the background. He was clearly there too. “Where am I supposed to put my books and computer? I have two full walls of shelves!”
The line turned into a shouting match. They were arguing about who’d have to move out temporarily.
Stepdad’s study. William’s shelves. Putting Claire’s room at Mom’s on some kind of rotation.
Every solution they came up with, not one of them said: “That room was always Nora’s.”
From the very first day they renovated, they’d never planned a space for me.
I hung up.
A little while later, Logan sent a photo. That black Traveler’s Choice suitcase.
[Claire’s stuff is all out now. I’ll bring the suitcase to your school tomorrow. Send me the address.]
I stared at the picture. Remembered my clothes and enrollment forms dumped into trash bags, soaking in filth.
I typed back: [Don’t bother. I’m already settled.]
This wasn’t a tantrum. I wasn’t waiting for anyone to come fix it.
My bed was made. My clothes were in the closet. My documents were locked in the drawer.
This tiny two-hundred-square-foot dorm room felt more like home than either of my parents’ brand-new houses ever did.