<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><em>Oh. It's You.</em></span></strong></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z67/designscene/DS/MeganFoxforWMagazine04.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name: </strong> Fox Kingsley<br/><strong>Sorting:</strong> Student: Bronze <br/><strong>Age:</strong> 19<br/><strong>Orientation:</strong> Bisexual <br/><strong>Mood:</strong> Unhinged<br/><strong>Time &amp; Date</strong> First Day of Fall Term<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Dorm room 120<br/><strong>Coming From:</strong> Homosexuality 101 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246314.msg12193133#msg12193133)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Antoine, (since it's also his room) | Ebony's Phone | [Closed]</span><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><br/>The campus was teeming with a mishmash of students of all ages. Small groups huddled in sit-circles under some of the trees. The weather was gorgeous for that. But there was something wrong about this place. A lot of the people Fox passed looked lethargic. More than that, they looked as if they were not all there. Drugged up on something. She would have guess it was 'misery,' except there was no emotion behind their eyes whatsoever. The state of these people gave Fox a momentary distraction from her own torment. <br/><br/>She clutched the strap of her bag with a death grip. All the while dodging foreseen shoulder brushes and any potential contact the hands of the strangers walking by posed. Her heart hammering in her chest the whole time. '<em>I hope I don't get whatever <strong>this</strong> is.</em>' Fox thought to herself. <br/><br/>It didn't take long to get to room 120. Relief washed over Fox when she opened the door to the sweetness of seclusion. Her parents' decorator had clearly missed no detail in trying to replicate Fox's room at home. Her bed had a twin version of her king sized sheet set. The desk in front of it housed everything identical to her vanity at home. Except the giant mirror. Sadly. The only other thing different was a small framed photograph of herself, nestled between her smiling parents. As she walked past, she swung it off her desk. The frame fell to it's demise under the foot of her bed. <br/><br/>She sat on her lumpy mattress, flinging her bag and all of her belongings into the corner of the bed. Her phone slid out, like a living thing in need of attention. Her thumb instinctively, went to text. She scrolled from Dad, to Eros. She thought long and hard about each of the reactions she would get from them. She wanted to whine and throw a tantrum. But her father would only extend her sentence at Jamison, if he thought she was trying to quit on the first day. She couldn't text Eros, because despite her lapse in Homo Class, she wasn't a quitter. And asking him to rescue her from this was essentially quitting. <strong>"What am I doing?!"</strong> She picked up a pillow and screamed into it. In a moment of ridiculousness, she wondered if she could just smother herself with it. But ruining her makeup worried her more than dying. <br/><br/><strong>Chimes from Fox's phone</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246532.msg12208193#msg12208193) snapped her back into reality. She didn't recognize the number, but it was someone from Jamison. <strong>"Hmm..."</strong><br/>She went through the files the school gave her upon enrollment. A contact list of students were given prior to the actual start of school term. <br/>They said something about bonding, especially with the opposite sex. Fox's eyes found the owner of the text. Prompting her to give in and be social. Why did it need to be boring, trying to get cured of whatever they thought she had? <br/><br/><br/></span></span>