Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby(2)
The more she wandered around, the more astonished she was by how thoroughly and generously every possible need or want these college kids might have was already provided for. Dad would be bitching at every turn about how easy they had it. Samara felt almost guilty at how easy it was ... but if she could have picked anything in her whole life to be easy, it would be this, because this was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and that included aiding and abetting her father’s con artistry by pretending to be hurt so her father could collect cash from some unsuspecting chump.
Next up was a place to sleep. She wandered dorms, classrooms, the student union , the gym, and other facilities, until it occurred to her the answer had been under her nose from the beginning, as if angels were looking out for her: The nice lady, fretting over her dorm assignment. She’d seen how casual and disorganized the registration process was. Apparently they never expected to deal with a seasoned hustler like Samara who might take advantage of their system.
She waited until the nice lady’s position was taken over by someone else, then she wandered around behind the registration tables, watching the way everything worked, until she had it figured out. It was a self-explanatory system, pretty basic: if they weren’t already in the system all you had to do was enter the student’s name in the computer under the name of the dorm, whether and how much they’d paid, whether they had a board contract for the cafeteria, etc. She might have waited to do it until after everyone was gone, except the one security feature the system had was that each employee had to enter a password when they first logged in. Samara changed into nice, respectable-looking clothes in the bathroom, stowed her stuff in a safe place, and walked up to the easiest mark among the people getting kids registered. She smiled at her regretfully. “Hi, I’m from the registrar’s office. Some parents are making a big stink over there because of a mistake you made on a--” Samara consulted her own acceptance papers “--uh ... ‘Samara Khaled.’”
She looked concerned. “I did? Oh no!”
“If you could just fix it--or, if it’d be easier, I can do it for you. Either way.”
She leaned down over her shoulder, using her height to intimidate her into moving aside, then quickly entered her own information into the system. Single room? Yes. Board contract? Yes. She smiled as she hit save, thanked the lady, and took the dorm key she gave her to give to this Samara Khaled. She then magnanimously assured her everyone makes mistakes, it was no big deal, and she would take care of the cranky parents. She was home free.
She wasn’t sure what to expect when she went into her dorm, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this: Tons of nervous, blustering kids moving in spectacular amounts of crap, assisted by weirdly doting parents. She smiled and tried to look friendly to everyone who looked at her and skirted the edges of the already forming cliques, watching closely without seeming to. She’d collected an impressive amount of information by the time she got to her room on the second floor: she knew who the troublemakers would be, who the easy targets were, and she’d even spotted a couple of people who would probably make useful friends.
Still, it was a tremendous relief to arrive in her single room, lock the door, set down her stuff, and stretch out on the tiny twin bed, knowing no one would bother her or even think about her in here, safe for the moment. Half an hour had passed before it occurred to her: for the very first time in her life, she was on her own--not until Dad and Alison found her and dragged her back, but for real. Forever. Joy exploded through her like fireworks at the realization. She’d dreamed of this day from the time she was six years old. She never thought it would come.
Inevitably, her thoughts drifted back to the epic fight she and Dad had when Dad realized she was leaving. “If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back.” Those were his words. Alison had looked like Dad had stabbed her in the heart when he said that. Neither of them had any idea how happy that sentence made Samara. She’d planned to slip out without either of them noticing, but of course Alison knew. Samara suspected Alison had known for weeks, because she’d seemed to be watching her even more closely than usual, not to mention being way nicer than usual, as if to make sticking around seem more appealing. Alison caught her climbing out their bedroom window, and as Alison begged her to stay, here came Dad. There was nothing to do but tell them her plans. The whole time Samara had been planning her escape, she’d thought the big danger, the thing she’d have to worry about the most, was Dad coming after her and dragging her back into the fold. When Dad said she couldn’t come back, what Samara heard was, “I’ll let you leave.” That was the greatest relief of all.