My room, like all dorms, I learned, was a rectangular container made of linoleum and beige cinder blocks, with a heavy non-slam door and a sprinkle of fluorescent lighting to ensure you wanted to spend as little time inside as possible. You know the saying: nothing good happens to unsupervised preadults behind closed doors. On opposite sides of the only window were two slightly lofted beds and three-drawer dressers tucked underneath. Near the door where Brigid stood, flailing her arms with decor suggestions, were two desks and two chairs; and on a long concrete wall between two short armoires was a sink and a medicine cabinet mirror.

“Which one’s mine?” I asked, interrupting something she was saying about peel-and-stick dry-erase calendars. The only word I recognized was calendar, which I now acknowledge as a blessing considering how tacky anything peel-and-stick is.

“Well, you got here first, so you get to choose!” she said. “So lucky!” She walked farther into the room, tugging on each naked mattress, opening and closing shaky drawers, looking out the tall window. “I’d take this one, if I were you,” she said, gently placing the folders atop the bed on the right. “In the other one, you’ll get the sunrise straight to your face in the morning.”

I nodded and joined her on that side. I would have accepted whatever she said, but I appreciated the thought she put into it. She seemed to actually care.

“I’ve got to get back to it, but...” She lined the three folders on the blue plastic mattress cover, taking care to ensure each corner perfectly aligned with the next, and pointed to them. “You should skim these while you’re unpacking—they’ve got your class list, campus maps, mass schedules, and other stuff.” She picked up the thinnest folder—labeled The Covenant Code—and handed it to me. “I’d focus on this if you have time. It’s what we’ll be talking about tonight. We have our first dorm meeting at seven in the common room, which it mentions in there.” She tapped the top of a different folder.

“Thanks,” I said, pressing it against my chest as she turned to exit. I wanted to ask another question, one hundred questions, to keep her there. Keep someone telling me what I was supposed to do. But she had the door open and was standing in the threshold before I could come up with even one.

“See you later!” The door closed after her, fitting into its base with a low thud, leaving me in the room alone.

I looked down at the folder in my hands. The Covenant Code: How to Succeed at Life, at Covenant, and at the Pursuit of Pure Happiness.