I used to always love to dream. In my dreams, the impossible was possible. I could fly and sometimes even do magic, I went to Oxford and traveled around the world as an ambassador. Most of the time, my dreams were vivid and seemed so realistic to me that the next day I went to school hyper-motivated and tried to give more than one hundred percent.
Now I loathe my dreams. James plays the lead role in most of them, and I just want it to stop. I wake up in the middle of the night – not from nightmares, but from a throbbing between my legs because I dreamed of him grabbing me and kissing me. I dream that he offers me physical favors for my silence again and that I don’t stop him this time when he unbuttons his shirt. I dream of him leading me into a world where he hasn’t cut me out of his life.
This morning I wake up again with hot cheeks and the blanket between my legs. Moaning, I roll onto my back and put an arm over my eyes. It can’t go on like this. Somehow I have to manage to drive James out of my subconscious, otherwise I’ll go crazy. How am I supposed to forget him when my dreams show me every night what else could have happened between us?
I rub my eyes and reach for my cell phone, which is lying on the bedside table. It’s just before six, my alarm clock will ring in ten minutes anyway. Tired, I sit up and go into my mailer. Since yesterday evening, I have received eight new e-mails. I scroll through them slowly to see if there’s anything important in them.
When I see who the sender of the last email is, I sit up in bed so quickly that I feel dizzy for a moment.
I have an email from St Hilda’s Admissions Officer in my inbox.
With bated breath, I open the message.
Dear Ruby,
I am very pleased to invite you for an interview at St Hilda’s College, Oxford. Congratulations on successfully passing the first selection process.
I no longer perceive the text that comes after that. My screeching is so loud that it echoes through the whole house. Ember comes running into my room, and I jump out of bed. It takes me a moment to find my balance, but when I do, I hold the phone in front of her nose. At the same time, I start jumping up and down.
‘Oh my God!’ she shouts, grabs my hands and then jumps in circles with me. ‘Oh my God, Ruby!’
Then I run down the stairs so fast that I almost lie on my nose. Dad has already rolled into the hallway with his wheelchair, Mum comes out of the kitchen with wide eyes. I solemnly hold up my cell phone. ‘I’m invited to the interviews!’
Mum slaps his hands over his mouth, and Dad lets out a shout. Ember wraps her arm around my waist and presses me tightly to her side. ‘I’m so happy for you! But I don’t want you to move away either.’
‘I’m only invited to the interviews, that doesn’t mean I’ll be accepted. Besides, Oxford is only two hours away.’ I’m so excited that I can’t stand still. My dream, which had been infinitely far away for years, has now moved a lot closer. I can almost grab it, everything feels so real all at once. My whole body is tingling with energy.
‘We all know you’re going to rock the interviews,’ Dad says, and Ember and I have to laugh at his choice of words. ‘They’ll have no choice but to take you.’
I grin so broadly that the corners of my mouth start to hurt. But I can’t stop either. I haven’t been so happy about anything for a long time.
‘I’m so proud of you, honey.’ Mum presses a kiss on the crown of my head and pulls me tight. After she lets go of me, I bend down to Dad, who also hugs me.
‘What does that mean exactly?’ he asks after I’ve straightened up again.
I read through the mail, this time to the end. ‘It says here that I am to arrive at eight next Sunday evening. The interviews will then take place on Mondays and Tuesdays. Wednesday morning is departure.’
‘Four days in Oxford,’ whispers Mum, shaking his head. ‘I knew they’d invite you.’
‘It says here that I’m going to get free room and board.’
‘Then we’ve chosen the right university for you,’ Dad says, his eyes sparkling happily.
‘I know exactly what you’re going to wear.’ Ember grabs me by the hand and pulls me towards the stairs.
‘My outfits for Oxford have been fixed since the summer holidays.’ Actually, even longer, considering that I’ve had an Oxford-style pinboard on Pinterest for over a year, on which Ember and I are constantly pinning inspirations. I wave to Mum and Dad before Ember pulls me behind him. Still on the stairs I can hear my parents:
‘Oxford,’ whispers Mum.
‘Oxford,’ Dad replies just as quietly.
They sound so happy. I sincerely hope that I have passed the TSA and will also get the interviews over with. I want to continue to make them proud and be the reason why they are so happy. If my family is happy, so am I.
I let Ember drag me into my room and to the wardrobe. While she takes out one outfit after the other and puts them on my bed, I fill out the university re-registration form and confirm that I will participate in the interviews. I then send Lin a screenshot of the email and eagerly await her response.
I still can’t quite believe it.
Even if it’s only for four days, I’m going to Oxford.
It is pitch dark when we arrive in Oxford on Sunday evening. Nevertheless, my parents, Ember and I decide to take another walk around the campus. St. Hilda’s is located at the eastern end of the High Street in Oxford, and we walk along the River Cherwell, which glitters atmospherically in the glow of the lanterns, and between the imposing buildings that do not look run-down despite the weathered gray stone of their facades. On the contrary, with the semi-circular windows with white frames and the small balustrades, they exude the magical charm of old stories that I really want to hear all at some point.
St Hilda’s is breathtakingly beautiful. And as I push Dad down the paved path of the campus, Mum and Ember next to us, I feel like I’m walking straight into a fairy tale. My permanent grin, which I’ve been wearing since last week, is getting even wider.
‘Next year you’ll be sitting right there,’ Dad says suddenly, pointing to the lawn to our left. ‘A bunch of specialist reading in front of you. On a checked woollen blanket.’
‘Your ideas are pretty concrete, Dad,’ I say with a smile.
‘Indeed.’ He nods seriously.
Aside from the beautiful nature of St Hilda’s, what I also like about the college is that it’s known for its diversity, sense of community, and the respectful way all students treat each other. Everyone is welcome here, regardless of the country and social class. After the time in Maxton Hall, I need that. I want to feel comfortable and not have to hide again. I can’t imagine spending the next four years in a strictly conservative college like Balliol, for example.
In addition, St Hilda’s has unicorns on its coat of arms.
‘I can’t believe I’m really here,’ I whispered. ‘I’m so lucky.’
Ember clicks my tongue. ‘That’s not luck. You’ve worked hard for it.’
She’s right. And yet I already feel sick when I think about the interviews that await me in the next few days. I urgently need to prepare myself a bit tonight and look through the notes I made in Pippa’s class. I know it by heart for a long time, but I know that I will feel better afterwards.
After we have picked up my room key for the accommodation where I will be staying in the next few days at the porter’s lodge and I have said goodbye to my family with a heavy heart, I take my small travel bag and enter the dormitory. From the inside, it’s nothing special – blue carpet, bare white walls – but I still have a tingle in my stomach as I climb the stairs to the first floor. Maybe this building will soon be my new home.
My room is at the beginning of the hallway on the left. I take out the key and am about to put it in the lock when I hear someone else enter the hallway behind me. Smiling, I turn around.
My smile dies.
The person I thought was a student has reddish-blonde, wind-tousled hair and wears a black tailored coat.
It’s James.
‘You want to take me in your arms,’ I blurt out.
He seems at least as surprised as I am. His gaze darkens, and he looks at the key in his hand. He takes three long steps with his small suitcase in tow until he arrives at the room across from mine.
I have the feeling that fate is playing a nasty trick on me right now.
Without saying a word, he opens the door and enters his room. His dark gaze lands on me again briefly, then he closes the door behind him and leaves me in the hallway.
I’ve had myself under control so well for the last few weeks. I ignored him, even if it hurt, and behaved as if the whole thing had passed me by without a trace. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how angry and hurt I am. And how much I miss him. But now I feel the anger rising up in me again. I would like to go to his door and kick it in. I want to throw all the words at his head that have been building up in me over the last few weeks.
Actually, I know that there is nothing more to say. He is what he is. I was like a little break for him, and it was unrealistic to think James could become something like a friend to me – or even more than that.
I can’t let myself be unsettled by the fact that he’s also here. I have a goal, and I will not lose sight of it. I’ve already come too far for that. Maybe I should just see it as another challenge to overcome on my way to Oxford. And as long as James doesn’t get in my way, I can live with the fact that he lives across the street from me. I’m going to do it just like I did at school: pretend he doesn’t exist.
Resolutely, I open the room door and enter. The room is minimalist, with a small wooden desk, a white built-in wardrobe and a simple bed. From here you have a view of the courtyard, in the middle of which there is a huge tree. I go to the window to take a closer look at him. Its reddish-brown leaves are scattered on the ground, the whole lawn is full of them. One path leads completely around the grassy area, at the edge of which lanterns and park benches are set up. I do it like Dad – imagine that in a few months I’ll be sitting there, a stack of books next to me, my head full of new things to be taught, on a campus that’s just perfect.
Even though the thing with James still hurts insanely, it suddenly doesn’t seem so bad to me anymore. I’ll make it.
