Page 7 of The Chemistry Test

Penny

I thought yesterday was the day I had been waiting for, but today, I have that same feeling again. Like the last couple of years have all been leading up to this. Because today is the day I officially become a university student, ahead of classes starting tomorrow. Time to get enrolled.

One of the boys we played games with yesterday has already dropped out, but Amy and our other flatmate, Ro, are waiting for me in my room. It’s sunny for September, but Ro’s wearing tapered khaki chinos, a navy Harrington jacket and a pristine-looking pair of white leather low-tops.

‘I love how none of us put books on the bookshelves.’ Amy laughs, clocking all the plants I put on mine. ‘I put my Squishmallow collection up there and Ro’s got LED lights and— How many pairs of boots did you say you brought with you?’

He grins, craning his neck towards her slightly. ‘Twelve.’

‘Oh, sorry about the bed,’ I say, gesturing to it after realising why he’s still hovering awkwardly by the door.

I always imagined myself having friends over and us all hanging out in my room when I pictured myself at university as a kid, but the bed here is like something you’d find in a hospital.

Beige, adjustable, and with barriers on every side. So, there’s nowhere for us all to sit.

‘It does take up a lot of room, doesn’t it?’ Amy asks, narrowing her eyes in thought. ‘Cos with a normal single bed, you get less bed room than a double, but you at least get more bedroom. But with this, you’ve somehow got less bed room and less bedroom.’

Ro laughs, finally stepping through the threshold and looking around.

I know they’re trying to make light of it, but I still feel awkward about it since I don’t even have a bed like this at home.

‘I don’t actually need one like that, there just wasn’t an option to have an accessible bathroom without getting that bed,’ I explain, feeling my cheeks go red.

Although realistically, I know the bed isn’t really the problem, and I should probably just tell them what I’m really thinking.

Which is that I know it looks like a big deal right now, but they won’t even notice the medical stuff once they get to know me better.

At least that’s what my friends from home say.

I’m still debating saying it when Amy grabs a cream blanket from one of my unpacked boxes and folds it neatly on the bench by the window.

‘Do you have any cushions?’

‘Yep,’ I say, pointing out the box with my bedding to her. ‘There should be some in there.’

‘Oh, Penny, these are gorgeous,’ Ro says, as he watches Amy pull out the cushions my mum made for me last year. They’re sage green with Pinterest-inspired embroidered wildflowers, which instantly make my room look more homely.

The makeshift window seat is big enough for all three of us, but Ro still doesn’t sit down.

Instead, he walks over to the bed and gives it a friendly pat.

‘I actually really like the bed,’ he says, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

‘It’s sturdy, reliable, and I can’t see you ever having any arguments with it. ’

Amy and I look at him, completely baffled.

He winks. ‘With sides that high, you’ll never fall out.’

It takes me a while to get it, but Amy is already shaking her head, laughing. ‘That’s one of the worst puns I’ve ever heard,’ she says.

But Ro is still smiling to himself. ‘There’s no such thing as a bad pun.’

After registering together, Amy and I head over to the Engineering area on the other side of the hall to wait for Ro. He’s near the front of the line and gives us a short wave when he sees us, before turning back to talk to his future classmates.

‘Alrighty, then,’ he says, handing us each mini screwdriver keyrings when he catches up to us. ‘Ready to be supported, Penny?’

I groan, remembering where we’re heading next.

‘I guess,’ I say, as we look for the student support building on the map.

I’ve been booked in for a ‘student support session’ this afternoon, and even though I don’t think there’s anything they can do to help me, I don’t think I have a choice about going.

And it especially sucks since my appointment is at the same time as the petting zoo (aka, the only freshers’ event I actually wanted to go to this week).

Despite the delicious aroma intensifying as we walk, like some sort of pizza-based mirage, we never pass the infamous Domino’s truck itself, making me sulk even more.

So much so that when we reach the student support building, Amy takes it upon herself to try to cheer me up, promising to send me lots of cute photos instead.

I smile and thank her even though I’m not sure if I actually want to see what I’m missing out on, both right now with the petting zoo, and to be honest, with whatever else inevitably crops up during my time here.

I startle myself out of my thoughts as a lady comes bustling out of the old brick building, and quickly dash in behind her before the heavy door closes.

Inside, there are corridors in both directions leading off from the entryway, so I pick one at random and as I wheel down it, I notice how old and small everything is compared to everywhere else on campus.

There are no Disabled Access buttons for me to open the doors as I come to them, and it makes me wonder how this building came to be used for student support in the first place since it seems like it might be the least accessible one.

Unless it just always has been and always will be the student support building – surely that’s the only reason that would make sense.

I’m texting my mum about how I nearly fell out of my wheelchair trying to heave open the ancient waiting room door when a lady with a red ponytail calls my name.

She smiles as she approaches me and introduces herself as Stephanie, my new disability advisor, before leading me down another hallway to her office.

‘This is it,’ she says, as she opens a door at the end of the hall into a musty room filled with pine bookshelves and lots of little plants dotted on every surface.

It reminds me of the old library at my primary school (which has probably been revamped at least once since I was last there), but the sofa looks comfy, so I wheel up to it to give my achy hips a break from my wheelchair.

‘So, what sort of things do you think you’ll need help with?’ Stephanie asks as she pulls up my file on her computer.

‘Well,’ I say, looking up to the ceiling and racking my brains.

The seconds seem to go on forever, and when I still can’t think of anything, Stephanie starts reeling off some of the things she’s arranged for past students instead.

Like someone to help collect my library books and a separate room for exams in case I need to lie down or take a break.

She taps everything she says into my file, regardless of whether I actually need it, and as we continue, I can’t quite believe how well it’s going.

I wish there was funding like this at every stage of education and, to be honest, I’m kind of confused about why there’s not since uni isn’t even the compulsory part.

‘Ah, this is what I was waiting for,’ Stephanie says, as a notification pings up on her screen.

‘My colleague, Andrew, has arranged for another Biomedical Sciences student to show you around. As a part-time student, he’s already completed half of the year, so he’ll be able to share some first-hand experience about what it’s really like to study here.

And he might be in some of your classes too,’ she says. ‘They’re ready for us when we are.’

At my nod, Stephanie opens the door for me again, making sure to give me as much room as she can after I’ve gotten back into my wheelchair. That’s when I see him.

Jackson. Or the guy I called Jackson.