I give myself time to cycle through All the Emotions, but eventually, I have to peel myself off the floor, partly so I don’t use all the hot water, but mostly because this hair cannot go to bed wet or untamed. At least the lavender scent of my shampoo and conditioner is calming. I’ve moved on to drying it as best I can when my phone rings, and I see “Dad” flashing on the screen.

It’s not a surprise that my parents are checking in to see how my first day was, but I pause before answering anyway; I still haven’t quite forgiven the fact that I had to trudge up here and deal with this whole dorm mess alone. But it’s not like I can just not pick up, so I take one more second to make sure I feel fully composed, drop my microfiber towel on the sink, and take the call.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo.” His voice sounds a little distant, almost grainy, like his phone is on speaker. Which is confirmed a moment later when my mom’s voice says, “How’d your first day go?”

“We heard there was a little mix-up with the dorms,” Dad adds. “Everything okay now?”

Everything okay now? That’s it? That’s all they have to say about their daughter being placed in the wrong dorm and living with all boys? I’m tempted to fire something back, but it strikes me how tired they sound. Just straight-up exhausted, like making this phone call took the last bit of energy they had left. I don’t know if it’s Sierra or the fact that we’re fighting or that they’re working harder given my coming here was a surprise expense they hadn’t budgeted for, but the fire in me dies out as quickly as it sparked.

Plus, in fairness, all I want to believe for the rest of the night is that everything is okay now, so I can’t blame them for wanting the same.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. I ended up with my own room and bathroom, so, can’t complain.”

“Oh, that’s great, honey,” says Mom, clearly stifling a yawn. “I’m sorry we couldn’t come see it today, but we’ll be there for Parents’ Weekend.”

Ah, yes, Parents’ Weekend. In two months. “Sure, Mom. Sounds good.”

“How’s the food?” Always my dad’s first question.

“So far, so good. Can’t go wrong with a baked-potato bar.”

“You truly cannot,” he says with a smile in his voice. “And how are the people? Have you found a card buddy—”