Going to class doesn't feel real, I don't think it's clicked yet that I'm here. It feels like I'm just pretending to be a college student. The buildings that make up campus are exactly what you'd expect from a coming-of-age movie. The brick buildings, and filled with kids with backpacks, over-excited since it's the first day. I can't help but shift my backpack, feeling like I'm trying too hard to fit in, considering I don't really want to be here.
I make it to American History ten minutes early, not early enough to make it to a back space table. It was about the only thing that would make my anxiety about being here with no-one familiar. I take a deep breath and sit down further forward and look around awkwardly and nervous. Although everyone else had the same nervous and awkward look on their faces too, they'd spent far too much time deciding what to wear and it was oozing off them. I had most certainly not put that much effort into my outfit, something that I'd be comfortable in – jeans, Simon t-shirt, green cardigan and sneakers.
I close my eyes feeling as though the room is closing in, the strength of the deodorant choking me and the creaking desks vibrating through my own and through my body. If I'd had slightly less pride, I'd have taken the American History class that Wren was taking but after our arguments about not living together it didn't feel right. American History is one of the only electives that we could take together but it hadn't happened. Wren is studying marketing and I'm studying English. Wren wanted a job in advertising like Dad.
My English course is Intro to Fiction Writing (a junior-level course) and I'd finished reading all three of her books over the summer – not typically my type of book (decline and desolation in rural America). Wren had disapproved of the reading choice, she was shocked about me reading something that doesn't have a dragon or an elf. They don't include Baz or Simon and I'd missed them, the books had been too realistic.
The door slamming removes me from my flashbacks to the summer and I realise how the class has slowly been filling but the lecturer still hasn't made it to the class. I dig my phone out of my back. Wren and I, may not being on the best of terms but it's still her I want to talk to.
"You up?" I send. I look out the window, not all that interested by anything or anyone in the classroom and see Levi. He catches my eye and waves and I wave back feeling extremely awkward. A few seconds later my phone chimes.
"Isn't that my line." I can almost imagine her laughing as she sends the text but I know she is still annoyed with me so I know she won't be laughing as she sends the text.
"Went to bed at 10. Was too tired to write. Too tired." I type back.
"Neglecting your fans already. Great start." I smile.
"Always so jealous of my fans." I type again. She doesn't reply to the text but it doesn't matter because a middle aged Indian man in a reassuring tweed jacket walks into the lecture hall. I turn down my phone and put it back in my bag.
