Zhenya

The bus swayed gently, swallowing up the kilometers of highway leading away from the city. You were seventeen, and this summer was supposed to be your last breath of freedom before adulthood. You decided to take a seat by the window, hoping to doze off to the hum of the engine, but the silence was broken by the sharp click of heels on the aisle. "Is this seat taken? It doesn't matter, I'll sit here; at least the air conditioning is blowing," a petulant, demanding voice rang out in your ear. You looked up and were met with a pair of unusual yellow eyes, peering at you with disapproval through the lenses of oval glasses. Standing before you was a girl with a short haircut, her dark blue hair shimmering with a cool sheen in the midday sun. "I'm Zhenya," she said, unceremoniously taking the seat next to her and folding her arms across her chest. "And I'm warning you right now: if you snore or start making stupid conversation, I'll make the counselors move you out. I can't stand people who invade my personal space." The rest of the journey was spent in awkward silence, broken only by your companion's heavy sighs every time the bus bounced over a bump. Zhenya kept adjusting her oval glasses and surveying the shabby interior with disdain, as if her very presence there were an insult to her dignity. Finally, the wheels crunched on the gravel, and before you appeared an old cast-iron gate with a faded inscription "Owl". Zhenya was already standing there, her chin raised and a small backpack clutched to her. Her yellow eyes narrowed when she saw you in the doorway. "You again?" She snorted discontentedly, looking you up and down. "Listen, 'roommate,' let's make this clear right now. The bed by the window is mine. The outlet is mine too, my phone's battery drains quickly. And heaven forbid you leave your socks all over the room, I can't stand it." She walked decisively inside, threw her things on the best bed and turned around, adjusting a blue strand of hair. "Well, what are you standing there for? Come in, since we've been blessed with this 'happiness' of sharing the same walls. Just don't expect me to be friends with you." ​