Natara tries to subtly glance around at the other people in the room as she sets her things down at a seat in the lecture hall. It's entirely too early to be awake, let alone attending her first lecture, but she's suddenly glad she didn't give in and wear sweatpants to class. It seems everyone had the same idea of looking at least a little presentable.
She arranges, then rearranges, her notebook and pens a few times, doing her best to keep her eyes to herself. She still doesn't feel like she's a college student yet. Although, she supposes, that shouldn't be entirely surprising to her. She felt out of place the first day of middle school and the first day of high school as well. She'll get used to it eventually. Or she hopes she will, at least.
She settles into her seat and watches the clock for a little while, which shows that it's just past 8 am. Their professor hasn't arrived yet, but that's fine. Her mom had told her college courses were much more flexible than high school.
She begins to shift in her seat a little, though, when their professor still hasn't shown up by 8:15. Around her, everyone else in the lecture hall is murmuring and glancing around too. Some people have stood up and are wandering around the room, while others stay in their seats.
"Hi," someone says, and Natara looks around. There's a girl sitting behind her who's holding out her hand. Natara gives her a small smile as she shakes it.
"Hi," she says back. "I'm Natara."
"Danielle." The girl lets go of Natara's hand and looks around the room. "So, is it just me, or does it feel like we're being tested?"
"Oh, thank god," Natara laughs. "I was hoping it wasn't just me feeling that way."
"Maybe the professor forgot?" The girl on Natara's left turns toward the two of them.
"On the first day of classes?" Danielle snorts. "Unlikely."
"You know," a nearby boy chimes in, "I heard somewhere that if the professor doesn't show up within 20 minutes of the start of class, we're legally allowed to leave." All three of them give him strange looks.
"Okay, but on the first day of classes?" Danielle repeats. "I don't know about you, but I'm not taking that chance. What happens if I leave and then the professor shows up? I'll miss valuable information, plus it'll be super awkward when I show up for class on Wednesday."
"A business major who's afraid of taking risks?" the boy laughs. "That's an oxymoron if I've ever heard one." Danielle pulls a face at him, then turns back to Natara and the other girl.
"Well I've heard that to be a good businessperson, you have to know which risks to take," she says, pointedly not looking at the boy. "What kind of CEO would risk their entire career and company one a single choice?"
"Oh please!" The boy laughs even louder than before, drawing the attention of even more people. "The decision to skip one class isn't going to make or break your career! It's ridiculous to think it would. If that were true, no one would graduate."
"But would you be willing to jeopardize the kind of relationship you'll have with this professor?" Natara chimes in. "After all, he controls what grade you get in his class. And if you keep skipping class and end up with poor relationships with professors, what do you think that means for the types of jobs you get after we graduate?"
"Oh look," the boy says, frowning at her. "I've found the brown noser." Natara narrows her eyes back.
"And it appears I've found the burnout slacker," she says coolly. Danielle snickers and offers her a high five.
A few minutes later, the door of the lecture hall opens and their professor finally walks in. Everyone faces the front of the room, and Natara feels at least a little more awake than she had when she first walked in.
Their professor apologizes for the delay and explains that his train was late. He announces that they'll begin class as soon as he takes attendance. Natara settles in; there are at least 70 people in the lecture hall, it's bound to take some time. Not to mention their professor has the misfortune of having a dull, droning voice that very nearly lulls her back to sleep as he begins calling out names. A quick glance around the room tells her she's not the only one. She's suddenly very nervous about spending an entire semester starting her Monday and Wednesday mornings off with this professor. She'll have to make sure to get coffee or something before class.
"Natara Mansingh?"
"Here," she says, automatically raising her hand at the sound of her name, but the lecture hall is suddenly abuzz. Dozens of pairs of eyes find her, and people turn to each other. She slowly lowers her hand as people around her whisper and point. The girl beside her is openly staring at her, her mouth agape. Even the professor has looked up from his ledger to study her.
"Mansingh, eh?" he asks.
"Yes, sir," she squeaks out. The professor raises his eyebrows, but turns his eyes back to the ledger.
"Jeffrey Miller?" A boy across the room raises his hand. But the whispers and stares don't stop. Natara sinks low into her seat, trying in vain to hide from them. They persist even as their professor finishes taking attendance and begins the lecture. Every so often she sees someone turn around in their seat to look at her, though they always look away quickly when they see her looking back at them.
She's the first person out of her seat when they're finally dismissed nearly an hour and a half later and is out the door by the time anyone else is beginning to stand up. She practically sprints across campus to her dorm, flies up the stairs, and takes refuge in her room.
Her other classes go about the same way, even the ones that have nothing to do with business. Each time, it's just as difficult to deal with, if not more so.
Like in her American History course, when a few people asks her if she's actually related to Raj Mansingh, or if she just happens to have the same last name. Or her Economics course, where a girl asks her what working for her dad is like, as if she'd know. The closest she gets to having a normal interaction once her classmates learn her name is her interpersonal communications course, when only one person is brave enough to approach her and tell her their aunt once worked for Mansingh Transglobal.
By Thursday afternoon she feels more drained than she thinks she has any right to be. Thankfully, she doesn't have any classes on Friday. She's free to relax and enjoy her weekend doing whatever she wants.
When she gets back to her dorm, she's ready to set herself up at her desk with her economics textbook. Truthfully, her weekend plans mostly consist of getting her schoolwork out of the way, reading a bit, and maybe exploring the city a little. But she stops by her mailbox first, and forgets all of that entirely when she spots an envelope with Mal's handwriting on it.
She doesn't bother waiting till she gets up to her room to open it. She unfolds the letter roughly, skimming it first then rereading it more carefully. By the time the elevator arrives on her floor she's grinning from ear to ear. Who cares if she looks like some besotted schoolgirl, or if her week was exhausting? None of that seems to matter quite as much.
She does sit down at her desk as soon as she drops her backpack, but instead of pulling out her textbook she takes out a clean sheet of paper and a pen and begins to write her own letter back to Mal. She decides to leave out the reactions she'd faced in her classes, instead focusing on telling him about the good things.
She'll probably have to wait until tomorrow to mail it. She doesn't have any stamps, nor the will to wander the city until she finds a post office. But that's okay, she thinks.
