Bromance indeed.
* * *
My alarm shattered the calm of sleep the next morning so completely that I woke up cursing. Stupid f**king school. I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. I was just taking care of business when a fist slammed on the door and Renee’s voice penetrated my morning fog.
“You’d better not be late your first day.”
“Thanks, Mom, but it would be nice if I could pee without being interrupted.”
“Just get your ass upstairs in ten minutes, or I’m coming back down and dragging your ass to class, no matter what you look like.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t even remember my mother being this wound up about taking me to kindergarten.
“Hurry up,” she said, rattling the doorknob for good measure. I had half a mind to walk upstairs stark naked and say I was ready, just to see the look on her face. But I didn’t fancy being naked in front of all the guys, so that plan was out.
Eight minutes later I was shoving an egg and cheese sandwich that Taylor had made in my face and shoving notebooks in my new messenger bag. Back in my “before” life, I’d carried a designer handbag just like all the other girls. Of course I also had a small clutch purse that went with it for all my makeup and tampons and such. Now I had a black messenger bag with lots of pins and buttons on it that I’d collected. I’d thrown my red hair back in a braid, put on my luckiest jeans and called it good enough.
Since everyone’s schedules were different, I was finally allowed to take my own damn car. Renee had gotten me a parking pass and handed me back the keys she’d stolen when I moved in on the condition that I didn’t get into any shenanigans. I’d been completely shenanigan-free ever since I’d gotten here, but that didn’t seem to matter to anyone. They were all still watching me, waiting for me to screw up. Maybe I should, just to put them out of their misery.
I said goodbye to everyone, promising I’d come back in one piece later.
I blasted Ingrid Michaelson on my drive to campus and sang at the top of my lungs. It took a few times of driving around the football field for me to find a free commuter parking spot. Apparently they were real asshats about parking in areas that weren’t designated for you to park in.
Finally, I found one, even though I had to squish in between a minivan and a huge truck and slide sideways to get out. I had ten minutes to get to my first class, Intro to American Law. I’d thought about changing majors, but I knew I could pretty much sleep through most of my poli-sci classes, so I stuck with what I knew.
The class was full of clones of the students I’d left behind. I even saw a few girls with the exact same bag I had shoved in a box back at my mom’s house. Since it was a sophomore-level class, most of the nonserious people had been weeded out, but there were still a few people who looked like they wouldn’t make it through four years of this. And, of course, since this was New England, there were the token Birkenstock-wearing, patchouli-smelling weirdos who were going to spend their time protesting whatever the trendy cause of the day was.
They were almost worse than the buttoned-up, straitlaced kids. They just had to be so self-righteous about every. Damn. Thing. They also loved to hear the sound of their own voices. Fortunately, I’d brought my headphones, and since they liked to talk so much, they’d take up plenty of class time, leaving that time for the rest of us to do whatever. I booted up my laptop and listened as the professor, a guy in a nice button-up and tie—big surprise—droned on about Marbury vs. Madison. Been there, done that.
I kept one ear open and the other covered as I listened to some new music I’d found the other day on low volume. I’d also bought some new albums that I needed to review, so I switched to those. The first was a ska group that was way more punk than ska and didn’t have a whole lot going for them. It wasn’t even bad in a craptastic way that made you want to listen to it anyway. They definitely weren’t Streetlight Manifesto, or Reel Big Fish.
I made a few notes about some of the songs and moved on to the second album that had more of a folky/bluegrass feel. That one was much better, and I found myself transfixed by the complex melodies and haunting lyrics. I didn’t think there was anything else like music for having the ability to transport you to another place, even when you were sitting in a class full of strangers.
Finally, the class was over and homework was assigned. I’d managed to get a seat in the back and had avoided making eye contact or speaking with anyone, so I called the first class a total win.
I wasn’t so lucky for my second, American State and Local Government. It sounded like a total yawner of a class, but when I got into the room everyone was talking and laughing like it was a social gathering instead of a class. I sat in the back, closest to the door and with at least two seats in between me and anyone else, and I thought I was set until a girl rushed in and sat with one seat between us.
“Am I late?” she said, not even looking at me and frantically searching through her bag. All I saw was a huge quantity of very blond, very curly hair that she had tried to shove into an elastic band without much success.
I looked around, but there was no one else to respond to her, so it was up to me.
“Um, there’s still a few minutes.” She was up to her elbows in her bag, and she finally emerged, holding a bag of Skittles. I opened and closed my mouth a few times as she ripped the bag open with her teeth and then held the bag in my direction.
“Want some?” I finally looked at her face and then wished I hadn’t. One half was perfect white skin, and the other was mangled with what looked like a severe burn. “Do I have something on my face?” she said, her eyes getting wide as her hand flew to her face. “Oh, yeah, I do. Duh.”
She dropped her hand and grinned at me. Somehow her eyes had remained unharmed, but the side of her mouth and the rest of her face going all the way to her ear were shiny and had a weird pattern on them. It extended down her neck, and though her arm was covered, I could see it on the back of her hand, as well.
“So I’m going to tell you my name and also tell you that you can stare if you want. I’m Hannah, and it’s okay to stare.” She flicked some of her hair back, and I tried my best to look into her eyes, which were a deep brown, in contrast with her pale hair and skin.
“Jos. I’m Jos,” I said, because what else was I going to do?
“Nice to meet you. And if you choose to sit on the other side of the room next class, I won’t, like, hate you or anything. I’m a people repeller. It’s kind of my thing. For obvious reasons.” She giggled a little, and I turned to the front of the class, where an extremely tall woman in a charcoal skirt and jacket was writing things down on the numerous whiteboards. She looked like she just stepped out of a Senate meeting. When she was done writing what looked like half of a novel, she turned around and clapped her hands. Everyone shut up.