[center][color=green][h3]Imogen Reed[/h3][/color]
[b]9/08[/b][/center]

At last, today was the day.

Although, it didn’t exactly feel like a big day. In fact, it felt very much like boarding school. Imogen sat alone in her dorm room, munching away on her breakfast and doing her best to drown out any worries about her first day at Harbor Academy with a days-old VOD from one of her favorite streamers. Eating couldn’t occur without something to watch, after all, but she found herself glancing away from her laptop screen rather often anyway, even if just to rove around the familiar shapes that surrounded her. It was a different room, a different desk situated so close to a different bed that she could roll straight from her different sheets into her different computer chair if she so desired, but it all felt pretty much the same. In a way that was reassuring, but it did invite the gnawing, nagging feeling that Imogen wasn’t treating this new experience with the respect it deserved.

Oh, well. Soon enough her trepidations were beaten to a pulp by the firestorm of flashing lights and casino sounds from the game the streamer had been playing. Even if Imogen wasn’t playing herself, seeing the 2D avatar in the corner of the screen jump and bounce around in elation for a lucky drop was like a squeegee to the girl’s reward center. She quickly checked her laptop’s clock -thirty-five minutes until her first class- then got back to enjoying her breakfast. Courtesy of her expensive minifridge, laden snack drawer, and excellent coffee machine, she had everything a busy student could ask for. Little plastic packets of fruit snacks ([i]Not a substitute for real fruit, my ass[/i]) provided all the vitamin C she needed, while salty cured meat sticks and jerky offered a convenient and non-perishable source of protein. It perfectly complemented the main course: a bag of powdered sugar mini-donuts. The coffee she was guzzling down didn’t exactly taste good, like at all, but that wasn’t coffee’s job, and copious amounts of sweet creamer made it a moot point, anyway. All coffee needed to do was tear her free from the warm, enveloping embrace of her bedsheets to face a new day. And what a day it was, her first at Harbor Academy!

Imogen pulled a tissue from the box beside her laptop and carefully wiped powdered sugar from her lips. As she threw it away the streamer popped off–a loot chest just so happened to deliver five whole level-ups at once, including [i]two[/i] weapon evolutions! Forgetting that she was watching a VOD and not a livestream, she hurried to add her pogchamps in with the rest of the recorded viewers’. She watched her emotes scroll up and disappear, smiled, and reached for her coffee.

Twenty minutes later, Imogen entered the hallway bathroom. Her tank top and sweatpants had been replaced by her school uniform, and her favorite green coat was ready to confront the brisk air of the English fall, with her backpack slung on top. She took a moment to smile at her reflection, happy with how her beanie and scarf looked. Then she removed her glasses and bent down to wash her face. She felt a little discomfort somewhere behind her face, some pressure in her sinuses perhaps, sore eyes, maybe a slight headache or just fatigue. A splash of warm water rubbed around her cheeks and eyes always helped whenever this happened, to chase away the buzzing and set herself at ease. Imogen sighed in relief, dried off her hands, and went away.

It was several hours before Imogen encountered her first real disappointment. When she arrived at the Icebreaker meeting, as instructed, she quickly realized that not everyone had shown up. [i]If I’d known I didn’t have to come,[/i] Imogen thought, a little ruefully. [i]I wouldn’t have.[/i] The Icebreaker didn’t make her nervous or anything; she just didn’t see the point in it. How out of touch did these administrators have to be, to think friendship could be forced? Luckily, a dragged-out episode of forced socialization wasn’t in the cards. To her credit the group’s senior advisor made an effort, but it came across as…well, cringe. Everything went downhill fast, suffocated by the sheer apathy of those roped into coming here. Before she could slip away, though, another girl introduced herself. Imogen gave her a polite, thin smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How d’ya do, miss Kalde,” she replied, rather formally using the girl’s last name. “Nice to meet ya.” A handsome guy introduced himself too, but Imogen didn’t want to just repeat herself and look foolish, so she said nothing. After neglecting to mention her own name at all, Imogen left.

[center][b]9/10[/b][/center]

“Hi there!”

Imogen looked up from her coursework, taken ever-so-slightly aback. Although her second psychology class had just let out, she’d remained in her chair for a couple minutes before hightailing it to her next one, just so that she could get some slight headway on the introductory assignment while the professor’s words were fresh in her mind. When she raised her head, she found another girl standing in front of her, a young lady with glasses like hers, but glossy black hair pulled into a side ponytail. Her voice carried a pronounced Indian accent, and her eyes shone with friendliness. “I’m Spoorthy,” she greeted Imogen. “I just so happened to see you the first day. It looked like you wanted to say something when Mr. Pierce asked if we had any questions, but it was dead silent!” She gave a sympathetic smile. “I’m the same way. I hate being the first one to speak up. It’s so awkward when the teacher calls out the class for not saying anything, too!”

Extending a tenuous smile in reply, Imogen closed her textbook and leaned back to make sure Spoorthy knew she had her full attention; anything less would be bad manners. “Oh, I just realized I could probably look it up myself, is all,” she said. Trying to think of a way to make relevant conversation, she reached back for an anecdote. “Usually I’ll ask when I need help. When people say oh, how d’ya get such good grades, I just tell ‘em it’s because I get help when I need it. That, and doin’ my homework on time. Turns out the big secret is not crammin’ everything into the last hour before it’s due, haha!”

“Haha,” Spoorthy offered a halfhearted giggle, feeling like she was supposed to. Her attempt to find common ground and maybe make a friend fell flat, and instead she got something that sounded more like condescension or bragging. “Sounds like you’re on top of things. Me, it always seems like I end up cramming…” She glanced at Imogen’s schoolwork, then up at the wall-mounted clock. “Well, I’ve got to get going, so I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?”

“Have a lovely day,” Imogen replied, giving a little wave. [i]What a nice person. I managed to make her laugh, too! Maybe there’s hope for me yet.[/i] She started packing up her own things, ready to move on to the next class. On the way she stopped in the hallway bathroom to wash her face.

[center][b]9/15[/b][/center]

The week rolled by uneventfully. Any ceremony that accompanied the start of a new school year quickly gave way to routine, and Imogen settled in happily. She attended every class, did every assignment, and partook in lunches and dinners at the school cafeteria, all alone in the midst of a burgeoning throng of humanity. In psychology she kept an eye out for Spoorthy, waiting to see if she wanted to talk to her again, but any further polite exchanges of pleasantries lasted even less time than their first encounter. Imogen didn’t try to push it further; she could take a hint, after all. Things really weren’t all that different here compared to boarding school. The schoolwork was harder, but that just meant she needed to work harder herself. She was here to learn and improve herself, and after spending her school days doing just that, she could enjoy her evenings relaxing with games or videos. Her favorite content creators were always there for her, after all. How’d she ever managed to get so anxious in the first place? Everything was perfectly fine.

The night before, Imogen was up late thanks to a latte she’d gotten a little too late in the day, grinding out some levels in a sci-fi MMO with her ears full of frenetic breakcore. She hadn’t noticed anything slipped under her door until she stepped on it on her way out to use the bathroom before bed, squashing the origami flat with a crinkling sound. After unfolding it -and tearing it a little in the process- it took a couple tries for her bleary eyes and frazzled brain to fully comprehend the note’s contents. “Huh…” Was this another Icebreaker-type social event? Or just a prank? And why would anyone need a towel? Well, if it was the school’s doing, she couldn’t just ignore it. With a yawn Imogen tossed the note on her laptop’s keyboard so she’d remember it come morning. 

Somehow, the next day’s classes seemed to go by quicker than usual. When it came to drudgery Imogen was a well-oiled machine, and with her strategy of spreading homework out evenly to not overload herself she predicted that it would be a while before the sleepless nights of pulling hair and gnashing teeth began once more. With her days all to herself, her focus was absolutely, and when it wasn’t either a quick break to wash her face -or a longer one for an extra shower- set her to rights. When seven o’ clock rolled around, Imogen headed to the dockhouse right on time, her backpack full of extra towels. If this was a school-mandated event, after all, she needed to excel. That said, she did enjoy the pleasantly cool walk on the way over, and the fresh air felt like it cleared her head. [i]Maybe I should get out in the evenings more often,[/i] she said to herself, tucking away the map she’d been given into her coat pocket. Before her she could see the dockhouse, sitting glumly at the water’s edge, and after tucking away the hair pulled loose by the playful coastal wind she meandered on over.