The student cashier introduced herself as Megan Gardner, and I liked her immediately. Despite my constant tripping over English words, we quickly established a communication level suitable enough for mutual understanding. I had to laugh at her constant hand motions while she was talking; it made sense when she explained she part of the university's extra curricular dance company.

"What do you study?" she asked, deftly avoiding the other students on the path as we walked.

I smiled meekly, pausing a moment before I answered. "Medicine," I offered, and seeing the recognition on her face, gathered more confidence. "Umm…pre-med?"

Meg whistled, pulling back her dyed red hair into a ponytail as she walked. She gave me a grin. "That's tough major, especially here. Really tough. I have a few friends that are in the program though—I will have to give you their numbers, should you need any help."

In truth, I followed only half what she said, but I smiled nonetheless. "Thank you."

Meg stopped in front of an imposing multistory building. "Anyway, I have to get going, but you mentioned chemistry was your first class of the day?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Good luck then. I'm sure you'll do fine, though, especially after this morning."

Before I had a chance to question her, Meg was already moving down the path, her bag swinging at her side. I glanced up at the building a swallowed. Gathering whatever courage I still had, I joined the barrage of other late students that filtered past the doors, all while uttering a silent prayer.

"Christine dePrie?"

The TA looked up from the roll sheet, eyes searching the lecture hall. I raised my hand timidly, drawing the bored glances of several people. I wasn't about to even correct him on the pronunciation of my name.

The roll call lasted another half hour, the students around me shifting in their seats. I didn't blame them—already I have quite a work of art drawn on my notebook. It started to resemble my home…the small house I had had to leave behind, the beautiful beach and its rose colored rocks…

I was jolted from my thoughts by the slam of a book against the table. "Thank you," the TA started. "I know it is 8:30 am, but believe me, you will have to learn to stay awake for this class."

In unison, the class groaned.

I pulled my glasses out of my bag and settled them on the bridge of my nose, the TA coming into focus. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the front desk, giving us a crooked smile.

"Sorry about the roll call, folks, but it is school policy for the first day. If you name was not called, see me after class, or leave, as this is the dreaded organic chemistry."

There was another series of groans and whispers.

"Any questions?" A hand rose.

"Yes?"

The football player chewed on the end of his pencil. "So, uh, are you the professor?"

Just as the TA opened his mouth—

"I should think not."

With the rest of the class, I spun in my seat. At first we could see nothing but our own confused faces, but out of nowhere, he appeared, talking one leisurely step after another down the lecture hall stairs. My eyes widened, along with every other female in the class.

As he passed by my row, I had no doubt I was looking at the same person who had come to my aid in the cafeteria. He moved the same way, each step with the same sort of instilled confident grace. The murmuring that had commenced at his entrance stopped immediately as he reached the bottom floor. With one sharp glance, the TA gave up his spot and hurried to the safe realm of the corner. The professor rested a folder neatly on the desk and turned toward the class, looking over every last one of us.

At first glance, he had appeared middle aged, though it was impossible to tell now. His was unlike any professor I had ever seen—so many seemed proud of maintain the stereotype of the nerdy intellectuals in both conduct and appearance. He wore a black dress shirt, casually unbuttoned at the top, along with a pair of loose fitting faded blue jeans. No wonder I had assumed earlier that he was another a student…

The dark hair was neat, longer strands resting against his forehead, (probably to the envy of every male student in the room), just sheltering his eyes. But there was no doubt his stare burned. I had never known such judgment as in that moment.

But the moment was over as quickly as it had begun, and with an apathetic shrug, he glanced over the TA.

"Richard here is a competent enough grad student. You will bring your questions to him. He will hand out syllabus and your first assignment. Thank you, that is all."

Without another word, he exited the room, leaving us to turn towards each other with confused glances. The TA cleared his throat, picking up the folder with hesitation. His gaze found the football player again. "That was Dr. Lacroux."