This was a dream. Surely, this was nothing but a figment of her overactive imagination, and once someone pinched her, she would wake up.

This couldn't be happening to her. Her, who always seemed to have the worst luck in the world? No, surely not. Something this absolutely wonderful, amazingly life-changing, could not be happening to her.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she had no idea how she got in. She had outstanding letters of recommendation, her grades were impeccable, but in her opinion, her voice was… Mediocre at best. Of course, everyone thought that about themselves, but for Christine, she deemed painfully and irreversibly true. And yet, there she was.

During their last few months of high school, her classmates chattered endlessly about where they were going for college, what they would be studying, and where their new lives would take them. One of her close friends was going to the United States, to study biology. Another, England, to study psychology. She tried her very best to be happy for them, and to her delight, she was accepted to a few of the schools she applied to. Most were too far away from her home, with Mamma Valerius, in a village just outside of Paris. But the one she was hoping for, more than anything, left her ignorant until they very last possible moment.

The Paris Institute for the Fine Arts was home to the most selective conservatory in the world. Revered by all in the vocal craft, its allure and painful exclusivity were more than enough to give it a reputation that preceded even its name. It was known for producing the most exquisite, well-trained, dazzling voices that the world of vocal performance has ever seen. Hopeful students sent their resumes, applications, and video auditions in over the internet, and they were not contacted until acceptance or rejection was revealed. Quite terrifyingly, hopefuls were not even notified if their applications were received. They were required to sit and wait, and because letters were not sent until almost summer, the anticipation was agonizing. For ninety-nine out of a hundred students that applied, their hopes would be crushed curtly by a letter. No waitlists, no negotiations, no second chances. And you were not allowed to apply twice.

Christine was not even going to apply. It was too exclusive, too competitive, and she was convinced that she did not have a chance. It was only with constant pushing from her high school choral director, a kind-looking old man with years of vocal experience under his belt, that she even let him record her singing. She could only bear to do one take, choosing one of her favorite French art pieces, which served to display her pretty vibrato and her lack of weakness in either register. She couldn't watch it before she sent it in, for if she did, she knew that she wouldn't find the courage to press 'send'. She sat in her teacher's office, M. Bernard was his name, quite literally shaking as she submitted her application.

"Monsieur Bernard, this is stupid," she murmured, her fragile little voice shaking as she stared at the 'send' button with agony.

"Nonsense, Christine," he chided her gently, setting down his grading for a moment. "There is nothing stupid about trying. Who knows, they might see something in you."

After watching his pupil stare off into space, her hands shaking, for a few more minutes, he finally heaved a big sigh. Taking initiative into his own hands, he reached across his desk to her laptop, hitting the button before she had the chance to say no. After all, the application was due that night, and he knew that once she got home she would not be able to convince herself to do it.

"Monsieur Bernard!" She squeaked, looking to him with wide eyes.

"Christine!" He squeaked back, laughing after his rather awful imitation of her. "And now we wait. We will revisit this at the end of the year. Now, it is time for class."

The end of the year. It seemed so far away, and yet it came rushing at her, like a predatory cat primed for the kill. In fact, she was had all but forgotten about her application to the Institute during the last few weeks of her senior year: until the letter arrived in her mailbox.

Staring down at the envelope in her hands, it felt infinitely heavy as her hands shook with anticipation. She felt the thick cardstock with her fingers, and the more that she looked at it, the less she thought that she would be able to open it. Soon after her arrival at home, her grandmother, Mamma Valerius, came to greet her as always. She too stood frozen, staring at the letter in her granddaughter's hand. An aged, but still very spiritedly woman of her mid-60's, her face lit up with an excited energy much beyond her years.

"Well open it, Christine!" She squawked, her voice obviously not as quality as her granddaughter's.

"I already know what it is going to say, Mamma," Christine mumbled, still simply dumbfounded.

"No, you do not," Mamma scolded her gently, pulling her with an unexpected strength to sit on the sofa in their modest, yet comfortable, living room. "Open it."

After a deep, shuddering breath, trying her best to keep her hopes down, Christine ripped open the envelope with trembling fingers. It took her some effort to pull out the folded paper that lay inside, and even more effort to open them. Tears flooded her eyes in anticipation for her rejection, but scanning the first few lines of the letter, her breath sent still. Mamma Valerius noticed the sudden change in Christine, and yet, there was no sigh of defeat, no words from her mouth.

"Heaven above, you got in…" Mamma's voice was more like a breath as she struggled to keep her composure. "You got in?"

Almost threatening to faint from shock, Christine gave the smallest of nods, allowing her grandmother to take the letter and read for herself. Her old, kind eyes made quick work of the letter, and though she always had absolute faith in Christine, she could not believe it herself. Behind her letter of acceptance was another letter, one that Christine had failed to notice in her shock. Mamma Valerius read it first, and that was what nearly sent the woman into cardiac arrest.

"Christine," she whispered, a hand going to her granddaughter's knee, "Christine."

When the girl finally looked up, taking in a deep, cleansing breath, she felt like she was dreaming.

"My dear, they are offering you a full scholarship."

Christine widely regarded that day as the best day in her short life thus far. She remembered every detail, memorized every word on that letter, as if to convince herself that she was not dreaming. She looked at her name, printed on those pages, on the envelope, more times than she could count. Perhaps they sent her someone else's acceptance by accident. After all, anything could happen. But that did not seem to be the case.

The numb shock of that day carried with her through that summer, giving her a dull indifference to time that made the days go by in a pure whirlwind. She worked long days at the coffee shop by her house, hoping to save enough money so that she did not have to work as much while in school. It kept her mind and her body busy, so that the shock that was threatening to destroy her did not do as much damage. Oh my God, I am going to the Paris Institute for the Fine Arts. The thought never seemed to escape her head, repeating over and over again like a mantra that would not let her go.

The Institute was very adamant on the students of the conservatory living on campus, even if they lived as close as Christine did. Of course, Christine knew this even when she was applying, but upon her acceptance, it completely hit her that she would have to leave home. It was only a twenty minute drive back to her Mamma, thirty if there was heavy traffic, but to a girl as sheltered as Christine had become, it could be one kilometer or a million. It didn't make a difference.

Mamma Valerius promised her that she would visit every weekend, go for lunch with her when she got lonely, and annoy all of the new friends she made, and that helped somewhat. But leaving home was not going to be easy for her. She already did it once, when she was just a child, from Sweden after her father died. As moving day arrived, she prayed for the strength to do it again.

That fateful day in mid-September could not come quickly enough for Christine, and yet at the same time the days flew by agonizingly fast. She was anxious to start this new beginning of her life, and yet she constantly wondered if she was ready. She doubted herself completely, had no faith in herself, right up to the time the car stopped in the campus parking lot. Mamma Valerius was driving, for she quite feared Christine passing out behind the wheel, letting the child fully absorb what was happening to her. This is what she always wanted, and yet she has never been more scared.

With shaky legs and even shakier heart, Christine stepped out of the car, and as she turned around to look at her grandmother, the first thing she saw was her beaming, encouraging smile.

"Is this really happening…?" Christine mumbled dreamily, looking all around her with a dazed expression.

'Really, truly!" Mamma squeaked excitedly, opening the trunk of the car to grab one of Christine's suitcases. "And you've earned it, love."

The campus is absolutely gorgeous. Some of the buildings are quite old, giving a unique, historic charm to the grounds, while other buildings evidently were just built. Everywhere possible was covered in lush green, including trees, bushes, flowers, and ivy creeping up the walls of the older buildings. As Christine neared one of these historic structures - her dormitory, in fact - she mused that this would be the most wonderful place to take a nighttime walk.

Two suitcases were all it took to bring most of Christine's belongings to her new home. One was filled with clothes, ranging from shorts sundresses for hot days, to leggings and heavy sweaters for cold days. The other suitcase, the one Christine was carrying, as it was the heaviest, contained all of her material belongings: her favorite books, manuscripts, and of course, her tea collection. There was nothing she loved more than tea. In her haze of thought, her feet carried her slowly up a few flights of stairs, and the burning of her legs was what brought her back to reality.

The dorms were quite small, but homey all the same, and with a quiet, sweet voice Christine greeted the other students unpacking in her hall. After a few agonizing moments of shuffling awkwardly in between people, she reached her room… and her roommate.

"Oh my gosh, hi!" A little voice squeaked inside the room, putting down whatever she was doing to come greet her. Suddenly, two very strong arms were wrapped excitedly around her neck, squeezing her tightly before letting her go. "My name is Meg! I'm studying dance here. What about you?"

"I'm Christine," she greeted, quite out of breath. "I… I'm studying voice, in the conservatory."

"No. Way." Meg's eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. "No one gets in there! God, you lucky duck! Soprano, huh?"

"Yeah," Christine breathed, tucking a thick blonde curl behind her ear. "How did you know?"

"Spidey-sense," Meg replied jokingly, throwing a pillow haphazardly onto her bed. She had situated herself on the left side of the room, and by the looks of it, she has been unpacking for at least an hour or two. "Actually, no - my mom teaches dance here, and I have sit in on too many rehearsals to count. You get a knack for it. You've got that whole… glowing-from-within-with-glorious-upper-register vibe."

"Shut up!" Christine squeaked indignantly, quite unlike her, if Mamma Valerius said so. The grandmother watched from the doorway, a smile spreading across her lips, reaching her eyes. She hadn't seen Christine be a carefree young adult for a long time.

Christine soon began to unpack herself. The clothes were quite easy, folded neatly and placed in the dresser next to her small desk. Then came her books, placed on the shelf above her desk, along with her notebook and her Bible. On the desk, she placed her favorite mug from home, her electric tea kettle, and a small wooden box filled with tea bags.

"Feel free to use the teapot whenever you want," Christine called to Meg in a friendly tone, causing Mamma Valerius to chuckle. Christine was normally very protective of her tea paraphernalia.

Meg thanked her as she straightened out her bedspread, smiling widely at her handiwork. Christine soon finished her initial unpacking, beaming from ear to ear for the first time in a while. What she was looking at, strangely, felt like home.

Mamma Valerius left soon after that, a little teary-eyed, but insistent that she would be back next weekend, after Christine's first week of classes. A pang of anxiety flooded Christine's senses, partly due to being left alone, but mostly because of the thought of classes. It brought out her worst fear: ruining the best opportunity she had ever been given, by failing out.