"Individuals with extreme acrophobia, such as Kelly in the article you were assigned to read, can sometimes go through intense psychological for their phobia, if it's severe enough. For example, someone with acute claustrophobia might be okay in small places whereas a person with glossophobia or acrophobia, in Kelly's case may require intense psychological treatment." Dr. Prince stands in front of us in her very professional dark brown pants and long sleeved blue turtleneck. Her blonde hair sticks to the brim of her forehead from the sweat, but I understand why she'd rather dress warmly.

Even though it's about seventy-three degrees outside, it never fails to be something below freezing in the auditorium. I tap my mint green mechanical pencil against the edge of my floppy, 300-page psychology book and shift my gaze up to the analog wall clock. The long, red seconds hand takes forever to make its way back around the top to the twelve. I lean forward and grab my black and silver shimmery backpack off the floor. I loop the belt-like strap through the hole and shove my book and pencil inside. Dr. Prince strongly dislikes it whenever we pack up early to leave. She's one of those professors that will tell us not to pack up, even though there are only four microseconds left in class. It's a good thing that I sit near the back and I never even so much as draw her attention. Riddle me this: how is it that on the third day of classes during the first semester, she reprimanded me for being "too quiet?"

The thunderous ringing of the bell booms through the classroom, dismissing us finally from the jail cell – I mean, the auditorium. I stand up quickly and sling my backpack over one shoulder, filing into the already long line to get out of the door. "Have a very nice Christmas, and a happy New Year. See you all in January. Be safe!" Dr. Prince shouts at all 200 of us as we quickly leave out of the room.

I'm so glad to be going home. I really need a break from school. My head is spinning, my ears are ringing, I'm tired of taking notes, I'm tired of typing and I'm just sick of learning. Plus, I miss my family, and especially my best friend, Marissa. It sucks how she had to go to Berkeley. We were supposed to go to college together, but when we promised each other that, we weren't even thinking about tuition and what would happen if one of us couldn't afford it. I pull my phone from my pocket and check the time. It's 2:07, which means I should be home somewhere between 3:30 or 4:15, if I don't get caught in traffic.

I shove my phone back inside my pocket and head out into the still-fall air. I keep forgetting that it's still fall, because I consider anything inside the month of December to already be winter. But I don't think the first day of winter officially starts until the 22nd, and it's only the 3rd, so it's safe to say that it's still fall, I think. It's not much of a difference between fall and winter. It's not like we see much snow in Los Angeles or in Oceanside, it just gets chillier and chillier, and if I'm lucky, maybe I'll be able to break out a pair of boots without looking silly.

As soon as I walk outside, the wild wind blows strands of my long, dark brown hair all over. The sounds of the busy, bustling city hum along as I speed up my walk to the student parking lot. I'm one of the very few freshmen on campus that have a car. Everybody else typically catches the bus or hitches a ride with someone else with a car when they want to go home on the weekends. I pass the blue sign with white letters and read it again, like I have 500,000 times before whenever I leave my psychology class. "Now Exiting: Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior", it says. I guess signs that tell you where you're going are necessary when dealing with such a large campus like UCLA.

"Hey, Demi! Wait up!" An out-of-breath voice shouts from behind me. I stop mid-walk and turn around to see who's calling me. Carrying a heap of books, walking towards me is my old roommate, Selena. Her hair is blowing just as wildly as mine and her naturally tanned skin is a stinging red color, like she's been hit or something. She used to be my roommate before she moved out and into the same housing arrangement as her boyfriend. Since she moved out, I've been in my dorm alone, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. She didn't want to move out. She really liked me and I liked her, but her boyfriend is a little bit on the crazy side and insisted that they live in the same place, so she got a new roommate and she lives in the same complex as him now. We don't talk much anymore, because we hardly see each other except for during lunch or dinner hours. We aren't majoring in the same thing, so we really don't have any classes together.

"...Hey Selena." I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear and half smile at her. Breathless, she smiles back, hoisting her extremely heavy-looking, brown law book onto her hip, trying to catch her breath. I stare at the fiery red mark on her cheek and imagine that it must hurt. It's a nasty secret to keep, what she's keeping.

"Hey…" She blows out a hard breath. "I was just wondering if I can have a ride home. It'd be a pain to carry this book onto the bus… but if you can't, it's alright." Of course I'll ride her home. Not just because I like her, but because I really feel bad for her. Her face looks like it hurts, and she's so thin that she looks as if her big ass law book will curve her spine if she continues to drag it around.

"Sure. It's no problem. Where do you live?" I motion for her to follow me and we start walking again towards the direction of my car. I never have problems with giving people a ride, it's just that nobody ever asks me. Selena's never even asked me for a ride before. I'm partially glad that she asked, because now I'll know where she lives, and maybe this will let her know that she can ask me for whatever.

"Inglewood, right off the interstate. I'll tell you how to get there." She explains to me. I nod my head and retrieve my keys from my pocket to unlock my car doors. "This… is YOUR car?" She asks, stopping dead in her tracks with an expression on her face that tells me that she doesn't believe me. I guess my car is a little bit nice, but it's not nearly as nice as it could be. It used to be my older sister's, before her boyfriend bought her a canary yellow Volkswagen Beetle. My hand-me-down car is a silver 2011 Mercedes E350 Convertible. It could use a paint job, and one of the back windows gets stuck, plus the sunroof doesn't work, but I guess it's a nice car.

"Yeah… it's a hand-me-down… but it gets me to where I need to be. Put your books in the back." I shove my bag in the backseat and shut the door, opening up the door to the driver's seat. I climb inside, put my seatbelt on and wait for her to get in. She shuts the back door after putting her books on the backseat and gets into the passenger's seat. I'm so glad I took my car to the car wash yesterday; otherwise I would've been so embarrassed to give her a ride. It's usually so dirty in here, my clothes and college papers strung everywhere. It's clean in here for the moment.

I turn the key in the ignition and back out of the parking lot. I turn the heat up a little, because it's cold in here. "I have to stop and get gas at the Get-Go up the street, okay? My gas light's on." I turn out onto the street and speed up along the road to the gas station.

"Here…" She smuggles her hand underneath her seatbelt and into her jeans pocket and hands me a crisp $20 bill. "For gas money…"

"…Shut up." I wave my hand at her and put it back on the steering wheel.

"No, Demi. Here. I'm using your gas… and gas ain't cheap. Just take it and put it in the gas tank." She tries to force the money on me but I still refuse it.

"Selena, keep your money. I don't need it. Inglewood's only 20 minutes away, it's not out of the way or anything. Plus, I have a gas card. My dad lets me use his gas card whenever I need to fill up the tank. It's fine. Just keep it." I adjust the heat and turn slowly into the gas station.

"Okay." She finally puts the money back into her pocket. "Thanks for the ride, though. I really appreciate it."

"It's not a problem. I'll be right back. You want anything from in here? A drink or something?" I offer. I keep forgetting that her drive is much shorter than mine. I have an hour and a half to go before I get into Oceanside, whereas Inglewood is really only 20 minutes away. But, I would've felt lousy if I had eaten and drunk in front of her without even offering her anything.

"Just a can of Pepsi, please. I'll pay for it." She starts reaching in her pocket again, but I stop her.

"Will you just keep your money? It's fine, Selena. Really, it is. I got it." I slide out of the car and walk into the station. I go immediately back to the fridge section, grab her can of Pepsi and a bottle of SmartWater for myself. I grab a small box of Cheez-Its and a pack of strawberry Pop-Tarts for myself also. I'm starving, and even though I know that my mom is probably cooking this big dinner for me, it's going to be an hour and a half before I can even eat it.

"I'd like $40 on pump one, too sir." I put all the food on the counter and hand him the gas card for the gas. I watch him intently as he rings up all the junk food I bought. He's not a very attractive man. He has a white t-shirt on with stains on it and ungroomed facial hair, but I'm trying not to judge him.

He swipes the gas card and totals up the food. "It'll be $12.19." He grumbles in his raspy voice. He smells like cigarettes. I rummage through my pockets and hand him a $20 bill. I just want to get out of his presence. "You need a bag?" He asks. I shake my head at him and take all my things, including my change and hurry out of there.

I put all of the food into the car and start pumping the gas. $40 usually fills up my tank. I put the pump on auto-fill and wait for it to fill up all the way. I lean against the pump while I wait. I wonder if the gas station guy ever had a girlfriend in his life. If he has, it's a pretty sad situation when I can't even get a boyfriend in college. I pick at my hangnail and my mind switches tactics. I begin to think about Selena's red face. I know how she got that red face, and I'd never dare to tell anyone. Selena and I aren't the best of friends, like me and Marissa are, but she told me about how she gets her red faces. And I told her something about me that even Marissa doesn't know. I think that Selena and I could've been very good friends if she never moved out. The gas pump beeps softly, letting me know that it's finished and interrupting my thoughts. I pull the pump out of my tank and close the door. I get back into the car with Selena and start my car again.

"Where do you live, Demi? I don't think you ever told me…" She asks immediately after I start the car. She must have premeditated the question. I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and turn back onto the highway.

"Oceanside. About an hour and a half away from campus." I push on my gas pedal a little harder. "And yes, it really is like the name. It's basically directly on the ocean. I guess it's a beautiful city." I shrug. Oceanside isn't much, in my opinion. It's a boring little city where all people do is fish and surf and sell bait.

"I've heard of it. I hear it's really pretty. Do you live in like… a super nice house or something?"

"No. I mean….I don't think my house is all that nice. It's big, if that's what you mean. But it kind of has to be big. There's five of us that live there, so it has to be big. And we have a pool, but it's so pointless to have a pool whenever we can just walk to the beach in three steps. It's not that nice, but it's big, I guess." I shrug again.

"You should try living in Inglewood. It's so boring… you would probably die. And you're so lucky to have a big family."

"Are you an only child?" I stop at the first traffic light and rummage through my CDs while traffic is held up.

"No. I have a baby sister named Gracie. She's a baby, though. She's only five months old, so I might as well be an only child." She sighs. I never realized how different me and Selena's lives are, yet we're so alike. "Got any music?"

"I'm looking for one of my CDs…" I mumble. "I'll just turn on my Sirius radio." I give up on finding the CD and just turn on my satellite radio. The only thing about my satellite radio is that there are commercials. I turn the volume way up and listen to the music on full blast.

"This is my shit." Selena giggles and starts singing. "I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath, scared to rock the boat and make a mess. So I sat quietly, agreed politely. I guess I forgot I had a choice, I let you push me past the breaking point. I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything."

I like this song too, but I don't know all the words to it. I love this song, though.

Selena continues singing, "You held me down but I got up, already brushing off the dust. You hear my voice, you hear that sound. Like thunder gonna shake the ground. You held me down but I got up. Get ready cause I had enough. I see it all, I see it now…"

This is my favorite part (and the only part I know) so I join in. "I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter dancin' through the fire cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roooooaaar louder… louder than a lion cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roooooar."

I push on the gas again when the light turns green. "So how hard is law school?" I start a little more conversation with her, because it would be a little awkward if we just drove the whole way without talking, just singing. And I'm a little curious about law school too. I heard that it was really hard.

"Oh my goodness, Demi. It's terrible. I just don't get some things. Like… I don't get the double jeopardy thing. And I don't get Amicus Curiae. I think about changing my major every fucking day. I just don't get it. I thought I loved the law and stuff but I just don't get it anymore." She chuckles and blushes slightly. "…What about you? Neuroscience can't be easy either, right?"

"Oh, it's hard. My psychology class is the only one that's killing me right now. I just have a hard time paying attention, you know?" I sigh. "But it's really interesting. Knowing how the brain works and stuff. I don't want to be a neurosurgeon or anything, but it's really cool. I don't want to operate on brains or anything, I just want to be a behavioral specialist."

"So like… are you learning why people do what they do? Like… why people go and shoot up schools and stuff?"

"Something like that." I nod.

"That's so cool." She laughs a little bit. "So…. I'll be the lawyer that puts his ass in jail… and you'll be the one that tells everyone why he shot up the school."

I laugh a little bit too. "Yeah, we'll be the ass-busting duo." I turn a corner and ride down a long road. "Now where at?" I pass the sign that says "Welcome to Inglewood." I kind of wish that Selena lived further than 20 minutes away, because I could use a buddy to finish off my long drive with.

"Right up this road right here. Just go here…" She points to a road lined with spruce trees. It's been a while since I've seen trees like this. In Oceanside, all there is are palm trees. "Then make this left… and it's the only brick house on this road." I follow her instructions and look along the road for a red bricked house. I stop right across the street from the only one I see on the road.

It's a decent looking house. It's small with white shutters and a green door. It must be ranch-style with everything on one floor, because it's a rather short house. There's a basketball court in the driveway and a Jeep Grand Cherokee parked in an open garage. I kind of like her house more than mine, even though it's about ten times smaller. It's just more homey-looking.

"Thanks again for the ride, Demi. I really appreciate it. Really…." She opens up the car door. "…Have a nice holiday… and text me sometime or something."

"No problem, Selena. You have a good holiday too… and uh… if you want a ride back… after the break… just let me know. I'll pick you up…." I look down at the time. It's 3:45. "Tell your folks I said hi…"

"Yours too." She nods once and gets out of the car. She shuts the door and I watch as she walks up to her house. I make sure she gets in the door safe, and start back towards the direction of my house. I can't get home fast enough.


"I don't wanna lose you now… I'm lookin' right at the other half of me. The vacancy that sat in my heart is a space that now you hold. Show me how to fight for now, and I tell you baby it was easy coming back into you once I figured it out. You were right here all along. It's like you're my mirror… my mirror starin' back at me. I couldn't get any bigger with anyone else beside of me. And now it's clear as this promise that we're making two reflections into one. Cause it's like you're my mirror. My mirror starin' back at me. Starin' back at me." I stop singing and pull my car into the driveway of my house.

My ass hurts from sitting down so long, and I have a bit of a headache. I can't wait to eat and take a nap. I haven't seen my family since Thanksgiving break a couple weeks ago. They probably miss me, but the truth of the matter is that I didn't really miss them all that much. I haven't really had the time to miss them, you know?

I leave my bags in the car, lock it up, and walk up the steps to my family's enormous estate. We really do have a huge house, but I've lived in it for so long that I'm immune to it. I grab my lanyard from around my neck, move my UCLA Student ID to the side and put my house key into the lock. It sounds bad, but I'm already wondering when I can call Marissa and ask her to come over. My mom will probably bitch at me and talk about how I need to just spend some time with the family, though.

"Hey….. I'm home…." I look around inside the house. My mom always has kept a really nice house; it's something she takes pride in. The last time I was in this house, it was all decorated nicely for the fall holidays, and it smelled heavily of pumpkin spice candles. This time, it's decorated up in a Christmas fashion, our big Christmas tree standing in the front window of the house lit up and looking pretty. It smells like gingersnaps and peppermint candies and it just feels good to be home.

"…Mom!... Dad… Dall… Maddie… I'm home!" I yell again, wandering into the kitchen to see what my mom whipped up for dinner. I open the oven once I see it's on. It looks like she's baking manicotti. Manicotti is my favorite, but I'm a little bit pissed that it's not already finished. On a glass plate wrapped in saran-wrap are gingersnap and sugar cookies with little Christmas characters embedded in the dough. I walk to the back door and look out. All of my dogs, Bailey, Bella, Bentley and Oliver are all laying around outside. Oliver's running in the yard with my sister throwing a Frisbee for him to catch.

I open the door and step out onto the patio. "Maddie!" I call her name. She holds the Frisbee instead of throwing it and looks up at me. Her eyes light up. It's 2013, and Maddie's been with me for nine years now, yet she still squeals and runs to hug me whenever I'm in her sight.

"Demi! Demi!" She drops the little green Frisbee and runs to me. She gives me a tight hug around my waist.

"Hi, baby." I rub her hair and accept her hug. "Where are mommy, daddy and Dallas?"

"They're downstairs in the game room. The game's on." She opens up the door again and goes in the house. I follow her downstairs to the game room, where my family spends a lot of time. I wonder why they wouldn't watch the game in the living room if they knew I was coming. The basement is sound proof, so I guess that's why they didn't hear me. "Guys, Demi's home." Maddie says just as we hit the landing of the steps.

"Hey…" I comb through my hair with my fingers and sit on the arm of the couch next to my dad. "Hey daddy… mommy. Dal."

"Hi honey. How was your drive?" My mom pats the part of the couch next to her. I stand up and go sit beside her, sighing, realizing how tired I am.

"It was good. Long and tiring. I drove my friend to Inglewood before I came home." I lie down on my mom's lap and put my feet up on my dad's lap. My dad pulls the strings of my shoelaces and he pulls my raggedy black converse off and throws them down on the floor. "I see you're making manicotti…"

"Yeah, it should be done in about fifteen minutes or so. You hungry?" My mom combs through my hair with her fingers too, and my dad rubs my feet. "There's cookies up on the stove. Me and Dally made them together."

"Yeah, I saw." Speaking of Dallas, I wonder why she hasn't said anything to me. I prop myself up on my elbows slightly and look over at her, lying down on the loveseat. I guess she's asleep, but that's unusual for Dallas to fall asleep during the Cowboy game. "She's sleep?"

"Yeah, she hasn't been feeling so great. You know, it's getting down to the nitty-gritty with her. She spent all night on the toilet last night, so I wouldn't be surprised if it's soon." Mom reaches over and puts her hand on Dallas's cheek. "I hope it's soon. I can't wait for this man to come into my life." Mom chuckles and stops touching Dallas before she wakes her.

I laugh too. "I hope it's while I'm here on break. Can we give her some castor oil?"

"No, Demi. Goodness gracious, you're trying to kill them both." She shakes her head and giggles. "We're just gonna wait it out. The old fashioned way."

"Okay, but I'm getting impatient." I smile and sit up on the couch. I feel so tempted to go to sleep. "I'm gonna wake her up… I wanna say hi." I get off the couch and walk over to the loveseat where Dallas is asleep. I pull her blanket off her slightly. She's wearing a baggy t-shirt and Hello Kitty pajama pants. Her t-shirt is rising up slightly, exposing her swollen belly. "Hi Carlo… Come out so Auntie Demi can meet you…" I press my lips to her stomach and rub it softly. "Hi Carlo." I stand on my knees and tap Dallas's arm. "Dal… wake up. Wake up, it's Dem." I shake her carefully.

She opens her eyes up and mumbles. "I told them to wake me up when you got home…" She turns and stretches, clearly still in a half daze. "Ugh…. I gotta pee." She yawns and rubs her eyes. "This boy is pushing on my bladder… I'm so ready to be un-pregnant."

I laugh a little. "I'm ready for you to be un-pregnant too." I help her up off the loveseat. "Where's Rob?"

"He's… at work." She stretches again. "He's working 8-7:30. He'll be home in a little while."

"You tell him thanks for sending me that money last week?"

"Yeah, I told him."

"Dallas, Demi, Madison and Eddie…. Dinner's done! Come and eat!" Mom hollers down the steps from upstairs in the kitchen.

I'm so ready to eat.

And I'm so glad to be home.