Chapter 2
I walk into my philosophy class early by five minutes but that's basically late since the class is filled with a bunch of type A personalities. The only seat left is in the dead center of the classroom. I always tried tucking myself away in the classroom to not draw attention to myself so that the professor wouldn't call on me. I hooked up with him once early on in the semester before I got with Marius and ever since then he has been very keen on having me participate in class discussions, much to my classmates' dismay. I tried talking to the professor about it. He said it wasn't special treatment he just "really valued my opinion", plus I need to speak up to get the students' heads out of their asses. I couldn't really argue with the last part.
After squeezing my way through the tight rows and plopping down on my seat, I get out my stuff only to realize that I dropped my pen on the way over. I ask the pretty blonde next to me if I could borrow a pen from her. Unlike most other kids who would've rolled their eyes at my irresponsibility she gladly handed me a pen and pencil. See it's the little things that count.
The class quiets down when the professor walks in and wishes the class a good morning and the class replies "Good morning Professor Butala" in a weird robotic unison. I quickly lose interest in the class when the lesson of the day was to discuss Socrates's thoughts on how to achieve happiness.
I honestly can't bring myself to care about what the thoughts of these men. It all seems so pretentious, then I hate myself a little bit for even using the word pretentious; it's a pretentious person's favorite word.
I focus on the class discussion when I realize that Butala was looking directly at me trying to get me to pay attention to what was being said. One of the students managed to bring the conversation to modern politics and started expressing his very right wing point of view. There was always that one kid who didn't know when to shut up. The worst part of it all was that I saw a lot of kids in the class nodding in agreement. He went on and on about how if the poor "blacks and Mexicans" would just invest in their own communities instead of spending their money on expensive cars and cell phones and stop using up good hard workers' taxes on food stamps on ungrateful people who end up buying filet mignon that crime would go down. I look over at the blonde next to me and she has a worried expression on her face. At least someone can tell what he is saying is wrong.
I see a hand go up after the kid finishes his speech. I meet the boy's eyes that are so blue they almost glow, almost, and raise my hand after him and not waiting for Professor Butala to call on me, I stand up and speak first.
"I'm just going to go out on a limb here and say that you have never been on food stamps." I say addressing the kid who I learn is named Bradley.
"No right? Well I have. So I need to get together with you after class so I can find out how to buy filet mignon with my food stamps since it seems you know how to get the good stuff. See I have a very strict list that I have to follow when going grocery shopping, I can't even buy anything that's precooked."
"Bradley, I also want to ask you how the poor are supposed to get money to invest in their own communities? Are they supposed to ask their rich friends for help, for investments? How does one go about that when everyone you know is poor? Not just middle class but actually struggling to give their children lunch money much less have food at home even though they work 50 hour weeks poor."
"Well if they would just stop buying luxury items like sound systems and flat screen T.V.'s" he tried to cleverly interject.
"I'm glad you brought that up. Were you aware that these technologies are not so luxurious anymore? Our market has become so saturated with technology from various competitors and vendors driving down the price that these things have become relatively affordable. Food on the other hand has not, In fact the price of food has actually increased over the last few decades. Let me put it in a way so that you can understand." I sneer at Bradley. I take great pleasure in making his face turn from an angry red to a slight purple tint.
"A sound system can cost what? 300 dollars right? Well that is 300 dollars that you have to spend once, no strings attached. You are now the owner of that. Groceries on the other hand are constant. You would need 200 dollars every two weeks to buy food. You can never "own" groceries, it is a constant demand. I think your anger is misplaced Bradley. What you should be angry about is that we live in a country where we have an excess amount of homes and food but yet we still have people struggling with homelessness and starvation. It's almost as if the let's go ahead and call it "system" isn't built to help the poor "blacks and Mexicans" as you so blatantly and racistly put it."
"But that's just my opinion" I say as I turn to face Professor Butala who I see trying to keep a poker face.
I step back to sit down in my seat but not before I see the boy boy who had his hand up before look at me with an impressed look on his face. Sitting in my chair I realize I riled myself up a bit too much so now my seat felt too small for me.
"Anyone else?" Butala says with a slight chuckle.
"Not if she's going to bite our heads off." someone near the front right of the classroom says. I feel everyone's eyes bore into me.
"I don't think I have enough energy to fight all of you" I laugh back causing the class to break into laughter. I kind of hate that they think it's funny. I don't want them to think we are all okay. They get to move on from this slight inconvenience without ever having to examine why structures are the way they are again. I hate that they think I'm the bad guy here when Bradley was the most racist, classist...My thoughts were interrupted by a note being passed to me by the blonde girl next to me.
In clean, perfectly round, perfectly spaced letters read "I think you just became my role model"
I blush a little bit at how cute the gesture is. I write back "I'm glad someone doesn't think I'm crazy" I write back in my starkly different from my squeezed together chicken scratch that smudged because I am left handed. She reads the note and whispers back "I didn't say that."
I nudge her arm for the comment.
"As much fun as we have been having it's time to start thinking about your papers comparing Socrates's, Aristotle's, and Plato's thoughts on happiness. Since I'm in the giving mood, you can work with a partner. You can grab the rubric on your way out. Now get out."
As I'm packing my stuff up the blonde girl sticks out her hand in front of my face.
"I'm Cossette" she says as I take her hand to shake it
"Eponine" I watch her knit her delicate eyebrows together as she mulls over her next question.
"Would you want to partner up for this paper?"
"Me?"
"Yeah I want to snatch you up before anyone else realizes that you actually know what you're talking about."
"That'd be great. I wasn't looking forward to doing this by myself. No one wants to work with the resident communist radical."
"Everybody looks like a threat when you are presented with a new point of view."
"Here's your pens. Thank you for helping me out."
"Keep them. I have a lot. Too much actually, you know how dads are." I don't feel the need to tell her how different we are. The less people know the more we seem the same.
"Here's my number to get together over the weekend. I have to get going. Later comrade."
I roll my eyes as I walk by Professor Butala who has his eyebrows raised with a little smile that accentuates his cute little dimples on his perfectly symmetrical, chiseled, golden face. Shut up 'ponine. You just broke it off with someone this morning, don't go back to the hook up. Going back causes mistakes. I wave goodbye at him as I pass the threshold.
Making my way to my car I feel someone behind me. They're stepping in beat with me. Left, right, left. I turn around and see the same boy with the blue eyes from class. He towers over me. His legs are very long, he was definitely following me, he could have easily passed me with his long strides. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Bradley from class rolling over on his longboard (why am I not surprised).
"You're a real fucking bitch. You know that?" Bradley spits and I can see the veins pulsing on his forehead. I try not to cower as he yells at me. I push out the thoughts of home.
"Add cold and frigid and I think I might have found a doppelganger."
"What the fuck is your problem. Nobody cares about what you have to say. Everyone knows that you fuck the professors you little fatass whore." He steps closer to me and I feel his breath on my face. The blonde boy hooks his arm around Bradley's throat pulling him back from my face. I forgot he was there. Great someone else to experience me being chewed out.
"Where the hell do you get off talking to another person like that. You can't go around spewing ignorant shit and get mad when someone doesn't agree. Apologize to her now Brad."
"Fuck you Enjolras and fuck her too." I see the kid's arm tighten on his throat.
"Let him go. I'm not scared of him. If I managed to make someone like him mad today then I have done something right."
"Listen to her Enj." he says slightly out of breath
"Yeah if he hits me then his daddy will pay me off to keep him out of court. Win win."
"Money hungry whore." At that I snap. I get in his face
"So what if I fucking am. I can't stand people like you. You're so cruel to those who are not able to succeed in your Capitalistic society but then shame them when they try to embrace the greed of it all. But it doesn't matter what I have to say because this is a passing discomfort. You'll go back to eating what ever shit this society has lead you to believe and you can do that because everything that they feed you is to benefit you."
"You don't know shit about me bitch." struggling against Enjolras's arm
"And I don't want to. I've seen enough. Don't harass me again. Don't think that I can't protect myself. Especially against some frat boy hopped up on testosterone." Bradley doesn't even bother looking at my eyes.
"Fine be like that." I huff out.
"And you..." I look at the boy with his arm snugly fit around Bradley's throat
"I don't need your back up. I don't even know you. Let him go." He unhooks his arm and Bradley doubles over taking several deep breaths. I wish he'd just pass out.
"I was worried he'd do something. Just trying to help. He loses himself in his anger." he offers.
"I am ready to deal with the consequences of my own decisions." I say as I head for my car.
"You don't know him like I do." I want him to shut up and a part of me wants to have the last word.
"I don't want help from anyone who is able to be friends with that type of person. My parents might be shit but they always said watch the company people keep."
I throw my bag in my car, get in, and jam the key into the ignition. I really wished that Starships by Nicki Minaj wasn't blaring from my speakers. Any other song by her would have been fine but this sweet pop tune really undermined the mood that I was trying to give off. I pull out of the parking spot and drive off with my head held high refusing to turn down the volume. I look in my rearview mirror before I turn out of the lot and see Bradley and flip him the bird because I'm not as classy as I like to pretend to be. It made the tall blonde laugh. Asshole.
