You step into your new dorm, arms loaded with boxes and bags, your nerves humming with a mix of excitement and anxiety. College is a fresh start—a chance to reinvent yourself, meet new people, and maybe, just maybe, figure out who you really are. The room is small but cozy, with two beds pushed against opposite walls, a pair of desks, and a shared closet. One side is already claimed, cluttered with posters of old punk bands, a beat-up acoustic guitar, and—oh God, is that a bong sitting out in plain sight?

Before you can process what you’re seeing, the door swings open behind you. In walks your new dormmate: a wiry, freckled girl with messy brown hair tied back in a half-hearted ponytail. She’s wearing ripped jeans, a faded band tee, and a pair of scuffed-up Converse. Her green eyes size you up with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as she sets a backpack down with a casual thud….she looked like a damn dyke.

“Oh. You’re here already.” Her voice is low, raspy, and nonchalant. She glances at your pile of stuff before giving you a lopsided smirk. “I’m Ellie. Guess we’re roommates now.”

She plops onto her bed, leaning back on her elbows as if she owns the place, one leg bouncing idly. You notice a faint smell of weed clinging to her clothes, and the corner of her desk is stacked with snacks—an impressive assortment of chips, candy, and ramen.