As my hands fluttered across the keys, I didn’t think about the music I wanted to create… I felt it. It was instinct: pure uninhibited instinct rather than planned logical thinking and I wondered if that meant less. Did it still count as talent if you didn’t have to try?

I finished playing and then I wrote it down until I had a melody in front of me. It was still rough, there were a few notes that needed a little added finesse, but I was confident that with a few more workings it would be a playable song.

“Brava,” I heard a voice say behind me, and then there was light clapping.

I turned to see my theory of music professor standing there by the door in his usual tweed blazer. “Professor Parsons,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m glad; I wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt your work.”

“I was just… playing around with a new song.”

“What was the inspiration behind it?” he asked, as he walked towards me.

“Summer,” I replied. “Or more specifically a goodbye to summer.”

“That’s a good time for it.”

“I agree,” I nodded.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you,” Professor Parsons told me. “I wanted to let you know about this new program we just got clearance for.”

“Oh?” I asked, with interest.

“It’s a trip we’re planning for Christmas. We want our best students to put on a bit of a concert for impoverished kids in Africa and India,” Professor Parsons explained. “We’re giving some of our top students a chance to volunteer.”

“Volunteer?” I asked, catching on quickly.

“Well the university is not able to fund the whole trip,” Professor Parsons said. “Which is why it’s on a volunteer basis.”

In other words, I would need to pay my way. I felt my heart sink with the knowledge that despite my desire to participate, I would never be able to afford to go to Africa… even on a budget.

“That sounds amazing,” I said quickly, to mask my disappointment. “But I need to see if I can fit this trip into my timetable.”

“It would be great if you could join,” Professor Parsons told me. “This type of thing suits you just right. If you can join, I would really love to have you talk to the kids… explain music to them… possibly even answer their questions. I think it would be amazing… for them and for you.”

I smiled. It did sound wonderful, but I was realistic enough to know that it would never be a reality. I was in my senior year now, and once I had graduated, I would need to move out of student housing. Not only would I have rent to deal with, but I would also have student loans to pay off.

“I’ll definitely try to fit it in,” I promised, knowing all the while that it was a false promise.

I said goodbye to Professor Parsons, and then I left the music room and headed towards the dorm buildings. Student housing had proved to be my saving grace. It was extremely affordable for students, and it also meant that I was able to move out of my mother’s tiny apartment the moment I was accepted into Columbia University.

I loved my mother, and I had the utmost respect for her, but her lifestyle was not one that I fit into very well. It was funny sometimes how one person could have such disparate aspects to their personality. My mother, who was the most responsible, serious, tempered and mature woman I knew when it came to raising her kids, was also the most gullible when it came to love.

She fell easily for the lines that men fed her and she wore her heart on her sleeve. This was all due to the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and she longed desperately for the kind of epic love that people read about in great novels. Only, that kind of love had evaded her for her entire life. And yet, she still kept trying which basically meant a revolving door of men, some of who appeared for a few nights and then disappeared suddenly, without warning and others that lived with her for a few months before some turbulent fight ended the relationship once and for all.

I had spent my teenage years seeing this happen time and time again and so by the time college came around, I was determined to move out. Seth was eight years older than I was and so he had left the nest a while ago. If Seth hadn’t always lived close by and made an attempt to see mom and me all the time I might have felt like an only child.

I had assumed that moving out of mom’s place would solve all my problems. It would give me a clean slate and the opportunity to leave behind all the drama. Except that I wasn’t nearly that lucky. Every year without fail, I had managed to get a roommate who was either inconsiderate or plain crazy. My first roommate was basically a younger, wilder version of my mother. I would walk into our dorm to find a different man in her bed each night.

My second roommate was an ambitious cellist, and she had me up most nights with her incessant practicing. My third roommate was just plain hostile, and I had no idea why. I spent most of my junior year trying to avoid going back to my apartment. I had hoped that my string of bad luck would give me a break for my final year, but of course, I was sorely mistaken.

Enter Sandra… she was beautiful, outgoing and charismatic. Which was why most nights our apartment was filled with people laughing, drinking and doing drugs. We had been roommates for only a couple months now, but I was already feeling like she was the worst of the lot. Especially because dorm room parties were strictly prohibited and I was terrified that if Sandra went down, she would take me down with her.

I walked to my dorm room in a fog of contemplation. What would I do after I had graduated? I didn’t want to move back in with mom. I couldn’t move in with Seth. He had just moved in with Cory and anyway he was a firefighter who was struggling to make ends meet himself. He didn’t need his little sister crashing on his couch. Plus I had a feeling I would offend mom if I chose to stay with Seth as opposed to her.

So that meant I needed to find an apartment of my own… and the only way I could afford that was to live with a roommate. Except my luck with roommates was so bad that it actually drove my pressure up thinking about a permanent living situation with a total stranger. As I approached my room, I heard the music and sighed in frustration. Of course Sandra was having yet another party… and it was driving me crazy.

I didn’t even bother with my key. I knew the door would be open. I almost walked into someone who was standing right by the entrance.

“Sorry,” I said.

The guy I had bumped into turned to me with foggy unfocused eyes. He looked me up and down shamelessly and gave me a seedy smile. “What’s your name?”

“Uh… Zoey.”

“You the roommate?” he asked.

“I am,” I said, resisting the urge to add ‘unfortunately.’

“Damn girl, you are fine,” he said, looking me over once more. “I’ve always had a thing for blonds.”

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to side-step him. “I need to get to my room.”

“Want some company?” he asked, with another creepy smile.

“I really, really don’t,” I said, walking around him.

I spotted Sandra on the sofa with her hands and legs draped over a huge guy with tattoos running up and down his arms. His head was shaved, and I saw a tattoo on the side of his head. He didn’t look like any student who went here, and I felt an instant spasm of worry. I coughed as the stench of marijuana crackled through the air.

“Sandra,” I said, stomping over to her.

“Oh, hi, roomie,” Sandra said as a puff of smoke wafted from her mouth. She gave me a dreamy smile, and I knew she was high… probably too high to talk to but I tried anyway.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Urgh… you have that face,” she said.

I frowned. “What face?”

“That face that tells me that you’re going to be a killjoy.”

I gritted my teeth together. “This is the third party you’ve had this week,” I reminded her. “I don’t think I need to remind you that parties are prohibited in the dorm rooms.”

“This is not a party,” Sandra replied. “This is just a… gathering.”

“Yeah, cutie,” said the guy running his hand up and down Sandra’s thigh. “You need to chill… want a smoke?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I do not want a smoke. What I want is some peace and quiet.”

“Maybe you should go to the library then,” Sandra suggested.

“You’re going to get us into trouble,” I said, making one last attempt to get through to Sandra.

“We’ve got away with it so far.”

I shook my head at her and headed to my room to collect a few books before going to the library. I didn’t want to be around in case the resident assistant showed up. Alison Spencer was not someone who looked like she believed in turning the other way when she spotted something wrong. I had just left my room and I was heading towards the door when I heard a loud knock.

No one seemed concerned with answering it, and just as I was about to approach, the door opened, and none other than Alison Spencer walked in. She already looked pissed off, and the moment she stepped inside and took in the small crowd and the joints that were being passed around, her eyes narrowed with cold annoyance.

“Someone turn off the damn music,” she said, just loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

I saw Sandra jump to her feet and knock off the music. I also noticed that she tried to hide the joint in her hand. I could have told her that that was pointless. She stunk of pot, and her eyes gave her away anyhow.

“Whose apartment is this?” she asked.

Sandra didn’t say a word, so I stepped up. “It’s mine,” I said. “I share it with Sharon.”

Alison looked at me and then she turned her gaze to Sharon. “I want everyone to clear out right now. The party’s over.”

I saw the guy Sharon had been draped all over look towards her. She gave him a curt nod as if to tell him to just leave. He rolled his eyes at her and left and within minutes our apartment was empty but for Alison and the two of us.

“I’ve had a lot of complaints about the disruption coming from this dorm,” Alison said. “I think you both are aware of the university’s rules.”

“It wasn’t really even a party,” Sandra said, trying the same lame excuse she had used on me.

“No?” Alison asked, with raised eyebrows. “I’m interested to hear why… but not tonight. I want the both of you to report to my office tomorrow morning… let’s say seven o’clock.”

“Seven?” Sandra asked incredulously.

“Me too?” I asked. “This was not my party.”

I saw Sandra giving me the stink eye, but I completely ignored her.

“Yes, you too,” Alison replied. “This may not have been your party, but it was your apartment.”

Before I could say another word, she had stomped out without giving me the chance to explain. Sandra turned to me angrily, as though I had been the one in the wrong.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus,” she hissed.

“Excuse me?” I said defiantly. “Why should I take the hit for something you did?”

Sandra just shook her head at me. “No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

I didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. I just headed out the door, but instead of making my way to the library I decided to go to mom’s. There were some days that… dysfunctional or not, you just needed family.