Luna Plenum University: A Shifter Romance

Chapter 2: Great Expectations

Ophelia's POV

"Ophelia," her father greeted.

She cradled her cell phone in between her shoulder and ear.

"Hey, Dad," she greeted.

"I'll cut straight to the chase. Your mother told me about the letter," he said cheerfully.

"Oh, great," she complained. Ophelia stirred at the pot on the stove, her dinner nearly ready.

"This is one heck of an opportunity," her father started.

"That's what Mom said. Somehow, no one has been able to tell me what kind of opportunity it would be," Ophelia explained.

"A good one. A very good one. You would be insane to let this slip through your hands. I think you ought to give it a go. If you hate it, just drop out. Think of what you would be doing for shifters everywhere," her father goaded.

He sure knew how to get her where it hurt.

She had gone into journalism with a strong desire to help the people around her. The dissemination of information was so important to keeping community ties healthy. The opportunity to network, to be able to come home with a real story to tell, to maybe actually tell a story worth hearing, it might be worth it for that alone.

Maybe she could even uncover a story about the lost Lunas.

"I told mom I would consider it. I'll make you the same promise," she told her father, bidding him goodbye.

As it turned out, there wasn't much keeping her in Clearview City anyway.

Her landlord had sold her apartment building, and when Ophelia attempted to renew her lease, she had been told that rent would be tripled. It was then that the idea of moving away for a time to explore a mysterious school started to sound appealing. She couldn't afford the new rent on her current salary.

It was time for a change.

Ophelia had turned in her notice at work. Her boss had been shocked, mouth agape, when Ophelia admitted it was because she was going to Luna Plenum University. She was still fairly confused about how everyone here knew what that was but her, but she just accepted it as one of the many mysteries of the universe.

Like the lost Lunas.

Ophelia had stayed with her parents the first week of June, and they had volunteered excitedly to take her to the school to drop her off.

Which is how she ended up wiping her mother's tears off of her own cheek and giving both of her parents tight hugs.

"We are so, so proud of you," her father told her, sounding a little teary himself.

"So proud," her mother sobbed.

"Thank you. Now, go before Mom cries her eyes out of her skull," Ophelia told them, trying to joke.

She offered them a weak smile, but her nerves were causing her stomach to do flips.

Her parents nodded and waved, disappearing into the bustling crowd of people.

Ophelia turned to face the massive, gothic building in front of her. Someone with a large backpack shoved past her. Ophelia steadied herself, smoothing her hands down the front of her pleated skirt.

She hadn't decided how to feel about the uniform. It was nice, in a way, to not have to be concerned about some sort of dress code, of trying to get a feel for what everyone else would be wearing. However, on the other hand, it felt sort of childish. She understood the need to maintain tradition, though, and decided she wouldn't worry herself over it too much.

She was here on a mission; she was here for her story.

Marching towards the building, through the throng of other women in matching uniforms, Ophelia reassured herself that she was making the right choice. This was a chance to start over. This was a chance for something better, even if she had to make that chance herself.

Women were gathered at one wall just inside the sprawling foyer of Frasier Hall. Ophelia was in no rush to be bumped and jostled and instead took a moment to drink in her surroundings.

The building was full of rich, dark woodwork, glittering gold fixtures, and black marble floors. Sounds echoed through the foyer and bounced down the hallways. Warm light bathed the room in a soft glow, not the brilliant fluorescent light she was accustomed to at her first university. The whole place smelled like cedar and bourbon, a rich earthy scent that made her feel like coming home and going on a grand adventure all at once.

As the crowd began to clear from the wall where so many had been gathered, Ophelia could see large pieces of paper posted. Above each page, there was a single letter of the alphabet. Some pages had dozens of names, while other letters might only have one or two names underneath.

Ophelia headed towards the R, believing she would find her name under Roberts. However, these seemed not to be sorted by last name at all.

"Your family name is meaningless here," one girl scoffed to her, realizing what Ophelia was searching for. "No one here knows or cares what your parents do. You must make your own name."

Ophelia frowned and scooted down to the O. Her parents didn't do anything exceptional. They were exceptional to her, but her mother was a schoolteacher and her father was an engineer. She wasn't attempting to get people to notice her flashy family name; she didn't have one. She didn't like the way it felt for that girl to think that was what she was attempting to do.

She brushed it off and found her name.

Ophelia R

Sure enough, there was no last name, only a last initial. She was the only Ophelia on the list at all. She ran her finger gently along the page, arriving at her dorm assignment.

Earthwick Cottage, Unit B.

The words meant nothing to her. She'd need a map to discern the instructions at all. A few letters away, another girl must have received a similar assignment.

"Earthwick Cottage?" the strawberry blonde mused.

"The cottage? You're a dirt girl?" another girl giggled wickedly. "Have fun with the animals, dirt girl."

The strawberry blonde offered an incredulous frown to the sneering blonde. "That's not a particularly clever insult. You must not have gotten here based on your academics."

The hateful blonde snapped, sparks of electricity flying from her fingertips. "I don't need academics. I've got lightning."

The strawberry blonde laughed, a bold, open mouthed laugh, and barked without an ounce of mirth. Instead of engaging, though, she simply turned on her heels and marched towards the open double doors, out of Frasier Hall.

Ophelia rushed after her, begging the Goddess above that this girl would be friendly to her.

"I couldn't help but hear you're in Earthwick Cottage," Ophelia said softly, catching up to the strawberry blonde.

"What's it to you?" she snapped.

"I'm in Earthwick, too, and I have no idea where I'm going," Ophelia admitted.

"Oh," the girl laughed. "Sorry, I was afraid you had plans to mock me as well. I can show you the way."

"Thank you," Ophelia said. "My name is Ophelia Roberts. I'm in Unit B."

"Nice to meet you, Ophelia Roberts. I guess we're neighbors. I'm in Unit A. The name is Lilac Brown." The strawberry blonde girl held a hand out to Ophelia, stopping in her tracks to shake her hand.

Ophelia gave her a polite handshake, hoping to be firm enough to make a good impression, but not so firm that she hurt the poor girl.

Lilac grinned at her, nose scrunching a little with her smile. A light smattering of freckles adorned her cheeks, and Ophelia decided instantly that she liked the girl.

Lilac showed her the way to Earthwick Cottage.

It was absolutely lovely.

Ophelia couldn't believe that anyone would scoff at the idea of living here. It looked like a little English country cottage, covered in flowering vines and decorated with lovely greenery. Strings of lights stretched from the building across a small patio with a collection of black tables and chairs.

It was a storybook page.

Sheep grazed sleepily in a pasture up the hill. A dairy cow and several horses mulled about a large pen surrounded by a beautiful wooden fence.

It took all of her self-control not to let out a girlish squeal of excitement. Ophelia couldn't think of a better place to live. How in the world could someone look down on this?

"Let's get settled in our rooms and meet back here in, say, thirty minutes. I'll be ready to find the dining hall," Lilac offered.

Ophelia nodded, pushing open the door labeled B.

The room felt cool, a welcome respite from the sweltering summer heat. The windows were up high, one covered in a stained glass art piece. A small desk with a desk lamp sat in one corner, and a bed covered in a soft quilt was pressed against the opposite wall. Her bags had already been delivered here, pressed up against a cherry wardrobe.

Ophelia unpacked her bags and then pulled out the chair at the desk. She plopped down, desperate to take in the room a little further.

Vintage botanical illustrations were framed on the wall, along with a few illustrations of woodland creatures, labeled with scientific names.

She might never move from this chair and simply perish here, happy to haunt this space for eternity.

Resting an elbow against her desk, Ophelia realized several pieces of paper were laid out on the desk.

There was a page talking about rules and regulations and student conduct, there were pages about the dining hall and bookstore hours, and the last page was her class schedule. Ophelia studied that page religiously.

History of shifting, eight in the morning, Bellamy Hall, lecture room 202.

Pack politics, nine-thirty in the morning, Bellamy Hall, lecture room 101.

Lunch break, eleven to one, student's choice.

Gifts and how to use them, one-fifteen in the afternoon, Adeline Hall, lecture room 421.

Self Defense, two-thirty in the afternoon, Frasier Hall, gymnasium 2.

Ophelia folded the paper and stuck it in her shirt pocket, eager to meet up with Lilac for lunch.