Things Blue Sargent Has In Her College Dorm Room Freshman Year:

things blue sargent has in her college dorm room freshman year:

a new paper tree forest on her wardrobe door. this one is made out of construction paper, magazines, and old newspapers, and it’s a specific kind of forest. there’s blue lilies falling from the top, past the sprawling trees and into the pond full of red-bellied fish below.

maura’s tarot deck. blue had tried to refuse the present, as she has no use for a tarot deck, but maura had said daughter in a tone that implied blue was breaking some kind of sacred emotional ritual, and blue had said mother in a way that said a hug and some burnt brownies probably would’ve done the trick but fine, thanks, okay, and then blue had tucked the deck into her bag and they’d both giggled at each other for getting misty-eyed.

on her desk, she’s got a collection of stones–some of them are calla’s, given back to blue. (it’s not like blue’s thoughts are still coming off of them, calla says. blue squeezes one tightly, thinking i love you; you’re my mom too; i love you i love you i love you, and leaves it in calla’s favorite purse.) 

in her desk drawer, blue has persphone’s dissertation. she stole it from her room before she left fox way. she hasn’t read it yet, but sometimes it makes her feel better, knowing that some new words of persphone’s she hasn’t heard yet are just a few feet away. she also has persphone’s favorite knitting needles, which blue is using to make a rather frumpy sweater in her down time.

nail polish from orla, in violent orange and neon blue and forest green. (orla also gave her a crash course on mixed drinks, the numbers of eight different siblings of orla’s friends who are attending her college, and the dress that blue has been trying to steal out of orla’s closet since orla outgrew it four years ago.)

a box full of letters from her boys. it’s adam that she writes on a weekly basis–he needs it most, she thinks, because ronan’s got matthew and noah, gansey’s got his family, and blue has hers. he writes back every time, usually matching her letters for length. 

a cardboard miniature of 300 fox way. blue didn’t see gansey set it down on her nightstand the day he helped her move in, but she notices it as soon as they’ve said their goodbyes and blue headed back to her room. the detail in it is what she would expect of gansey, and it warms her heart to see it–her home, her past, her family, recreated with love from the person she knows will be part of her future.

a ball of yarn that never seems to end, and manages to change colors and thickness to fit whatever blue wants to knit or crochet at the time. she hadn’t thought much of it when ronan tossed it at her as she packed her bags, but it’s proven to be endlessly delightful (and baffling, if you’re her roommate).

dozens and dozens and dozens of pictures, all taped to the wall above her bed. her and orla when they were little girls, tucked into a pillow fort and giving maura identical petulant get out looks. maura and a five-year-old blue both bundled up in thick jackets and chunky hats, cheeks red from the cold, beaming at the camera. maura, calla, and persphone flushed and laughing as they played their drunken guessing games. blue and cialina flipping off the camera in their nino’s aprons. gansey, looking into the distance like some hero posing for a sculpture. gansey, asleep on a textbook with his glasses half off of his face and his jaw slack. ronan petting chainsaw’s beak. ronan giving blue a piggyback ride when she sprained her ankle. noah’s face when he’d looked in his room and seen that they’d decked it out in 2005-era sk8r punk gear. adam scrunching up his nose at the presence of the camera. adam, ronan, gansey, and blue the day of aglionby’s graduation, all of them grinning at the camera, all of their arms looped around each other.