Disclaimer: I do not own "Loserville", although sometimes I feel as though I live in it.

Chapter Two

I cram my bags into the trunk of the small black car and climb into the back seat. British Boy is sitting up front with the other man, who turns out to be the assistant headmaster and our driver. As we speed down the highway (the assistant headmaster informs me it is called the "M", or "Motorway"), I lean my head against the window and watch the trees and other cars go by. In the front, Brit Boy and Mr. Matthews are chatting about the school's football (soccer) team and their hopes for this season. It blows my mind that a school administrator and a student can be on such good terms. Back home, if a student tried to talk to a teacher as though they were friends, that student would wind up with detention.

Almost an hour later, the car pulls into a parking lot in front of a very intimidating building. Brit Boy jumps out of the car, grabs his bags from the trunk, and runs away. I slowly open my door and climb out of the car. Mr. Matthews is standing next to the trunk, holding my bags. I offer to take them from him, but he turns my suggestion down. He leads me to the front door of the building in front of us. It amazes me that he doesn't even struggle with carrying my suitcases. It took me ten minutes to walk twenty feet with those things at the airport.

I follow the A.H. into the building and down a long hallway. All of the walls are covered in paintings obviously done by some very talented students. When we reached the end of the hall, we turn left, into a room with a desk in the middle of it. Sitting at the desk is the tiniest woman I have ever seen. She looks like she could break in half at the slightest hint of pressure.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Matthews gets the attention of Tiny Woman. In a voice that is the exact opposite of her body frame, she says, "You must be Melanie Thompson. I'm Mrs. Larson, your house mistress".

Wondering what a house mistress is, I nod and smile at her. "Glad to meet you," I tell her. Suddenly, as if a balloon has exploded inside of me, I get the urge to pee. "Can I hurry up and get my room assignment? I really have to use the bathroom," I blurt out without thinking. Mr. Matthews turns beet red, and Mrs. Larson looks shocked.

"Why certainly," she replies. "Your room is located on the third floor of Serenity Hall. It is room number 318." As an afterthought, she adds, "Your roommate, Ellen, will introduce you to the campus after you get settled". Mr. Matthews leads me out of the building, still carrying my luggage.

He takes me to a building off to the right of the parking lot where the black car is parked. At the outside of the building, he hands me my bags, and gives me a key. "After four pm, no men or boys are allowed inside this building, and no women or girls are allowed inside the boys' dormitories." He sets my bags on the ground in front of the glass doors and walks away.

I insert the key I was given into the lock on the door, and turn it. I drag my bags through the now open door, and make my way over to the elevator in the commons area. I press the "up" button, but nothing happens. A girl sitting on a couch I didn't notice till now looks at me in disgust and says, "The lift's broken, mate. What are you, some foreign student? Can't you read?" I blush for the third time today, and grab my bags, heading over to the staircase. I'm tempted to ask this girl for help, but I can hear her response in my mind. "No way would I help out a Yankee bitch," she would tell me. Then, I would start crying and God knows what would happen next. Instead, I struggle up the stairs all the way to the third floor. At the top of the stairs, there is a very heavy door I somehow manage to pull open and shove my suitcases through. My urge to pee has doubled and now I'm practically ready to leave my bags in the hall and rush off to the bathroom. But I try and act civilized, so I make my way to my room. I'm in luck; it's fairly close to the stairway. Knocking on the door to my new home, I start wondering what my roommate is like. 'I hope she isn't a snob like that bitch downstairs' I think to myself. Just as I finish this thought, a girl with bright red, curly hair and very tan skin opens my door.

"You must be Melanie Thompson" I hear for the second time in one day.

"Yes I am" I reply. "Can you show me where the bathroom is?" I ask her before she can say anything else.

She looks at me funny for a second. Then, as if a light went off in her head, she says, "Oh, yes! The loo! It's down the corridor and to the left".

I rush off in the direction she was pointing, as if my butt was on fire. I find the bathroom easily and finally I can relax. I look at myself in the mirror when I am done, and decide I look normal enough to go for my tour of the campus now. I get back to my room, and the girl I can only assume is Ellen, is standing next to a bed I'm guessing must be hers, judging by the fact that it has sheets with pictures of daisies all over it.

"I'm Ellen, by the way," she says. "I was told to take you for a tour after you were settled. Once you are ready, let's go."

"I don't need to worry about settling in yet" I tell her. "I'm just extremely hungry."

She takes me downstairs, to the commons area, where Snob Girl is still sitting on the sofa. When she sees Ellen, Snob Girl runs up to her and goes "Oh my word! Did you see that Luke just came back?"

My roommate answers her, "No, I didn't. And I don't really care, Carolyn."

Snob Girl, a.k.a. Carolyn, looks surprised for a second, then looks away. As if seeing me for the first time, she asks me "Who the bloody hell are you?"

Calmly, I respond, "Melanie Thompson, a Yankee bitch." I forgot that she never actually called me that. That was just in my imagination. Score one for me in the trip to Loserville.

The two girls look at me as if I'm deranged, look at each other in wonder, back at me, then they finally shrug their shoulders. All in unison. It dawns on me that these two must be friends. Ellen finally remembers that she hasn't introduced me to this other girl, so she says, "Melanie, this is my best friend, Carolyn. We've been friends since primary school."

'Great', I think to myself. 'My roommate is friends with Snob Girl. It could be worse though; her boyfriend could be Brit Boy.'

Deciding that we've lingered in the dorms long enough, Ellen leads me to another building, now with Carolyn in tow. She opens the building's doors with her room key, and the smell of food slams into me. I'm, yet again, hit with the realization of how hungry I am. I walk further into the entrance hall and I see a buffet area with tables and chairs. Before I can get my food though, I'm stopped by a man in a chef's hat, standing behind a podium, holding what looks like a credit card charger-thing. Ellen hands him her school I.D. and explains to me how to get food. When she's done, she heads over to a table with a couple of girls sitting there, and I go up to the kitchen area to get some hot food. Carolyn joins me in line, and we both fill up our trays. I head over to the drink area and pick up some water. I look around for where Ellen went, and notice her talking to a girl with brown hair. She sees me and waves me over. I walk to the table, and hope there's a seat for me. Ellen holds out a chair for me, and I set my tray down on the table. I sit down and pick up my fork without even looking up. Ellen tells me she wants to introduce me to her friends. I set down my fork and look up as she tells me each of their names.

"These are my friends, Erica, and Belinda. You have of course already met Carolyn."

I smile politely at all of them, and then pick up my fork again. I dig in to my food as the four girls talk about how their holiday was. Thirty minutes later, it seems as though the others are getting ready to leave, so I pack up my tray, and take it over to the dirty dish cart. I see that the other girls are leaving, so I hurry to catch up to them.

We get back to the dorms at 8:30 pm, and I realize I don't have a class schedule. I tell Ellen this, and she gets a funny look on her face, similar to the one she had when I asked her about the bathroom. Now, just like earlier, a light bulb goes off and she answers me.

"We never get our timetables until the first day before class. We pick them up from our house leaders."

This makes me feel better. I unpack my things and make my bed. A wave of exhaustion hits me, and I realize just how tired I am. I climb into my new bed, without bothering to change into pajamas or wash my face. I fall asleep before Ellen even has the lights off, and I sleep better than I have for the past three weeks.