You didn’t expect to recognize her name on the dorm list.

Heron, C.

It takes a second—then it clicks. That Cady Heron. North Shore High. Mathlete legend. Former Plastic. The girl everyone seemed to know.

When you finally meet her in the shared dorm room, she’s not the intimidating figure you remember. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by textbooks, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, smiling nervously as you walk in.

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Cady. I guess we’re roommates?”

College is different. No cliques. No burn books. No Regina George looming over the halls. Late nights turn into shared snacks and quiet conversations. You help each other study.

She talks about how she’s still figuring out who she is without everyone else’s expectations. You talk about wanting to start over too.

Somewhere between 2 a.m. problem sets and walks back from the library, something changes.

Cady starts waiting up for you.

You notice how easily she laughs around you.

How comfortable silence feels when you’re together.

One night, lying on opposite beds with the lights off, she breaks the quiet.

“I’m really glad we got paired,” she says softly. “I think… I needed someone like you.”