The Drama-less College Years….. Right?

By: jvogel54321

Disclaimer: Somewhere there is an AU where I own all this shit. Unfortunately, this ain't it.

A/N: Not too much to say right now, so as always please R&R. I hope you enjoy. I went on a bit with the last section, but if you like it, you really, REALLY need to read Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. There are more than a couple references to that work here. FYI -- Sean is basically me. I will try to use him almost never, just thought you should know for no particular reason whatsoever.

Episode Two: The Brave New World (Chapter Seven)

Ryan sat in Professor Samantha Hawkins Biology class. He wasn't thinking about the building blocks of life or the wonders of the natural world. His thoughts this particular Monday morning were split between how much he hated the idea of core requirements in college and how he really didn't want to reply to the voicemail that Seth had left him during his first class. It was something about hanging out, repairing bridges and basically an invitation to stop by anytime. Ryan had deleted it without too much thought. Putting on a happy face for Sandy and Kirsten was one thing, but actually forgiving them was a completely different matter. Maybe there wasn't too much to forgive, he thought. Besides not telling him sooner was there anything to be mad about? The last time he saw Marissa they had fought, so much for the promises they made each other about working through the problem. He couldn't stay and she couldn't leave. Regardless, he didn't feel like seeing either of them right now. Although as far as being interesting, they weren't trailing Intro to Biology by all that much.

"Sex!" the girl sitting next to him basically yelled. "Lots and lots of sex."

"Actually, Miss Crowne, I was looking for sexual reproduction, but the tenants are…" Professor Hawkins continued with her lecture.

Ryan hadn't even heard the question; he was so wrapped up in thinking about them: his friends, his former-best friends, his whatevers. The first two classes of the day were from his major or at least interesting and he was able to distract himself and concentrate on projects. Things to do. Things to occupy those errant brain cells that wanted to divert there way back to less enjoyable subjects. Biology just wasn't going to cut the cake.

But now Ryan had found another distraction. He was stealing glances at the girl, who had the entire class rolling in laughter a minute ago. She seemed to be the only person in the room almost as disinterested in biology as he was. Ryan was enough of a guy to admit the way she looked kept his eye wandering back as much as any other reason. Here was somebody beating to their own drummer. He had to admit it. Ryan liked her jet long black hair that must reach more than halfway to her waist, the almost invisible pink jewel in her nose, the jean jacket and the low cut white blouse underneath it, the black leather pants that matched her hair and of course pink cowboy boots to top (or in this case bottom) it all off. And the Texan accent was a nice kicker.

Everything about this girl screamed something wrong. I'm totally a rebound girl. You would never look twice at me when you were in a relationship. I'm NOT a relationship girl. I'd slit my own wrists before I became one. But Ryan's mind kept going over the fact that both Marissa and Theresa were relatively safe choices. At least when compared to this girl they seemed that way.

And just like that the final half-hour of biology flew by in a few instants. Ryan went out the door that she didn't, his good judgment over-ruling his desire for distraction. Two steps out the door, he bumped into her. Guess she's spry. Damn, bad thoughts. A mumbled apology and he continued down the hall. And he really wasn't thinking bad thoughts the rest of the day. Whenever he felt his mind drifting back to Marissa or Seth, he just used one thought to push them back out. Green eyes.

Sitting in the courtyard at Harbor, Caitlin found herself alone. Things had not really gone according to plan and it was all because of that damn sign. She stared at it even now. Flying across the courtyard. It was the Harbor motto for the new school year. It read, "Community. Identity. Stability." Caitlin's first reaction upon seeing it had been to say to herself, "God, some teenager actually thought that up and put it on a poster over the summer. Kill me now."

She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but did anyway. And she was within earshot of three girls who obviously were thinking, "Cool." Not that Caitlin was looking for a friend with such a limited vocabulary, but by the start of first period she was that year's outcast. Now here she was alone at lunch as more popular cliques laughed and hung out at other tables. How is it those damn things didn't even need a full day to form? But in only one minute and thirteen seconds she accomplished a feat it took Seth Cohen nearly a decade to master.

"Oh well," she consoled herself aloud. "Four hours down, five thousand nine hundred sixteen to go."

"Seriously?"

Caitlin looked up to see a boy sit down at the table across from her. He actually came to the first day of school wearing a windbreaker. This meant that he was an over-zealous athlete or a dork or both. A firm believer in the idea of beggars not being choosers, she tried to put on a face slightly less off-putting than the scowl she had worn so far that day.

"Unfortunately."

"So are you a math genius or something, figuring that out on the spot?"

"No," she answered. "But you would amazed how long a period of algebra can take if you really DON'T put your mind towards it. My thoughts wandered."

"I'm not a dork or anything."

"What?"

"The windbreaker," he explained, tugging on it so she knew which windbreaker he was talking about. For some reason that made her smile. "I have gym next period. Also, I'm trying out for the track team after school, so I figured why bother changing clothes five times a day."

"Makes sense to me."

"Well that makes you more understanding than some of my prospective teammates. Of course a new school's nothing new for me. First, you try out, make the team, get typical new guy hazing, win a couple races, earn some respect, throw it all away because your dad got transferred AGAIN, rinse, wash, repeat."

"Well, I never thought I'd meet somebody today not from Newport. Especially somebody from outside Newport who thought it was the same as everywhere else."

"Well give it another four hours and I'm sure I'll be convinced of your point-of-view. But so far it's class, homework and typical teenagers. If it deviates from the norm in my experience, you'll be the first to know."

"I guess it never hurts to have an extra pair of eyes."

"I'm not a stalker."

"Again… what?"

"Well, it's just that I overhead you say something kind of cool and unique and invited myself to sit with you. I just didn't want to creep you out. I'm told I make bad first impressions."

"Well, seeing as how my best friend at high school, until you showed up, was that rather interesting tree over there, I'm not complaining. In fact, you just might be my hero. As long as you don't cut off my fingers or anything."

"No fingers, no problem. That I can handle."

"So what's my hero's name?"

"Jesse Owens Thomas. Yeah, I know and my Dad is from the same area of Alabama and really loved the guy. The track thing is just a coincidence. I'm not nearly that good, just a bit above average. So, what's my person-who-mistakenly-thinks-I'm-a-hero's name?

"Caitlin Cooper," she answered. After a moment's pause, she said, "Don't worry. We just have to put up with high school for another five thousand nine hundred fifteen hours and forty-five minutes until all the awkwardness of high school is over."

"And hey I'm sure we'll have a few sick days mixed in there, so really only another five thousand seven hundred or so hours," Jesse added.

"Jess, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Seth had been in the class room for less than a minute when Marissa walked in the door. They managed to have a single class together this semester, Introductory to Dramatic Composition. One of the many thoughts his first day in college had inspired was if high school, especially Harbor, was designed to prepare you for college, then why did all your first-year classes still "Introduce" you to the subject? His first class, Art History, was actually unexpectedly fascinating, but the work load the professor had described would be exhaustive. Weekly quizzes, two 500-word papers, various smaller papers and assignments, the mid-term (which one student had heard a sophomore describe as the Death Knell) and a final independent project covering a yet-to-be-determined subject: it was altogether just plain scary. Intro to Shakespeare, which would help with his English minor, would also have an amount of work that any high school student would pass out over, but at least ¾ of the writings that the course covered Seth had read before and had at least some degree of understanding of going in.

But the moment she walked into the class, Seth realized this was the one that could crush his GPA. The urges to zone out and stare at Marissa Cooper for 50 minutes would test, his now-not-very-secure concentration. Jeans and a t-shirt, but still the only word popping into his mind was: radiant. Is that my t-shirt? This was not going to be an easy task. At least he could hope for an engaging teacher, somebody who could command his attention away from the siren next to him.

Kissing him quickly, on the cheek, Marissa asked, "So how is day number one going?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure unless you move into the campus library we won't technically be living together anymore, but at least it's something new. It's interesting. How about you?"

"The Intro class was interesting enough, it looks like I'll learn some practical lessons. I didn't really hit it off with my International Finance professor, Mrs. Henderson. There were only twelve students there, so she talked to us one at a time. She told me I had potential for some nice little business, but that I was no Henry Ford. I think she meant that as a negative."

"Well, as your boyfriend, I'm willing to support any attempt to differentiate you from a glorified turn of the century auto maker. I guess we'll just have to blacklist the whole line. No Taurus for us, honey."

Glancing at the clock, Marissa noted they only had a minute until the start of class. Taking the seat next to Seth, she leaned toward him and quietly said, "I'm going to have sex with you tonight."

Seth's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. A heavy-set student on the other side of him added, "Sweet dude."

Leaning in to try and keep the conversation semi-private, Seth asked, "First off, I am holding you to that. But was there a reason you needed to share that with the class?"

"Well, you were just looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes and was worried you'd spend the entire class thinking about me and looking at me and then I'd do the same and neither of us would get anything out of the class."

"And you thought promising (once again holding you to it) sex would take my mind off of the subject?"

"I thought if you weren't worried about it, you could redirect and focus."

After a moment, he extended his hand and added, "Hi, I'm Seth."

"Sorry, but we'll have to try okay? This is my only non-business related class this semester and I want to really nail this one out of the park."

"Again with the talk about nailing? You're killing me here. But I promise to try. I just hope the professor isn't some conformist boring jerk."

"I don't know about this, Julie."

Kirsten stood in the middle of the conference room of the empty office space they were looking at. The realtor stood back by the front door, talking to her office about other properties in the area. The grouping of thirteen she had planned for the day had all failed to meet with Kirsten's approval. Julie stood in the doorway separating the conference room from what she had already decided would be her office. It was the corner of the building with plenty of the windows and a view of the ocean. She knew where she would put the desk and what brand of chairs she would put where. Even the art for the walls was already there in her mind's eye. She had it all planned out. But she had done the same thing at the last six sites. They weren't the problem. Kirsten was.

"What is the matter with this one?"

"It doesn't feel right."

"The office or the entire company?"

"Julie, I just need to take my time and feel comfortable with this," Kirsten explained. "The last business I worked at nearly tore me from my family more than once. It nearly killed me. We always decided we would take this at a pace we were both comfortable with and I just need more time."

"We aren't moving at any pace, Kirsten. We've been standing in place for four months now, waiting for you to be comfortable to take the next step."

Kirsten avoided responding and instead looked away pretending to survey the offices. She really wished the ceiling would collapse on her. Or a hole would open in the floor and swallow her. Even some bad pipes would do. Any excuse to not admit that there was absolutely nothing wrong with this place. It was actually better than half of the places they had been today. None had been unacceptably bad, but she managed to find a reason not to take each of them. There was a small receptionist's office by the front door and the hallway with five doors. On the right were the restrooms and an area they could use for storage. On the left were two offices at either end. She had a feeling Julie was attached to the one further down the hall with corner-office and ocean-view. The large windows along the back of the building made the other office acceptable with a perfectly nice view. Each office and the main hall had entrances to a center area where they could meet with clients and each other. The walls were already painting a lovely coat of sky blue. If Julie had her way, they would be completely moved in by the end of the week.

"Kirsten, I understand these are some big changes, but I'm asking you to take this step with me. We more than proved this summer that we can handle the pressures of running this business successfully. I know you're worried about something, but I need your support here. I may not say it often. Or ever, but I know more than a little bit of the reason you proposed this business was to help me out of some hard times."

"Julie, it isn't as if I haven't enjoyed doing this, but—"

"Then don't stop because you're afraid of change. I still need your help. Neither of us could do this alone. I have one daughter in a not-inexpensive private school and another in college and a mortgage. Although, I really do have to say Marissa has been such a big help. Even on that silly road trip, she covered so much of her tuition with scholarships and financial aid. She even found a friend to let her live rent-free."

"Really, wow, that's, um, good. And you're right Julie. Let's take it."

"You mean it?"

Without waiting for a response, Julie rushed over and hugged Kirsten, cutting off a fair amount of circulation. A moment later she was out in the other room, breaking the good news to the realtor. By the time Kirsten walked back to the front room, Julie had her cell phone out and was calling about furniture.

"This is the right place, right?" Seth asked.

"Yeah, I checked the room number twice," the heavy-set man next to him, Sean answered. "Maybe the teacher's sick?"

"They would have sent somebody right?" Marissa asked. "I mean its been twenty minutes."

The once near-full class room now only had four remaining students: Seth, Marissa, Sean and an Asian-American girl named Kelly seating in the front row. For the last five minutes, they had debated following the other students out. Seth had spent most of the time tapping his pen anxiously on his desk. When the teacher hadn't arrived on time, a half-dozen older students had walked out quietly laughing and exchanging high-fives amongst themselves. The rest of the students had begun filing out in groups on two or three with the occasional loner for 25 minutes. But now they were the last few who had stayed.

"If this is some prank they play on the freshmen, I have to say I'm pissed," Marissa said. "I really was actually looking forward to this class."

"Right," Seth replied, jumping out of his seat and going up to the teacher's desk up front, sitting on top of it. "So let's have it. I mean we all stuck around for a reason. If some jerk professor can't be bothered to show up, we'll do it ourselves."

"Teach the class?" Sean asked.

"Well, come on, why not, you must be here for a reason," he responded. "Why are you still sitting in the class after 30 minutes, Sean?"

"I mean, well, I always wanted to be a writer. This seemed like a good class to take."

"So what's some of the stuff you write?"

"Well, just stuff for myself really, I mean the closest I ever came to publishing something was some fan fiction online. I'm a big Stargate fan, so since high school, I've posted stuff like that."

"Cool, more a fan of The Valley myself, but I'll admit to being a small-time Sam-Jack shipper. How about you, uh, Kelly?"

"Well, I signed up for the class to meet the requirement. I want to be a high school English teacher. I haven't really thought about what I'd get out of this class specifically."

"That's cool. I bet writing some things of your own will help with insight into what other writers are trying to say. Marissa, since you apparently are comfortable enough with Sean and Kelly to talk about our sex life, let them in on the big secret of why a business major is still sitting in a English class after a half hour. And try not to flatter me too much, I blush."

Standing up and sitting in the front row next to Kelly, Marissa blushed a little at the sex comment and said, "Like Seth said, I'm a business major, but I'm not entirely sure what type of business I want to be involved in someday. I don't want to just be in business for the sake of being in business. I suppose I took this class just to broaden my horizons. Maybe some insight into myself to find out what I want to do."

"How about you man?" Sean asked, finally rising and taking the seat on the other side of Kelly. "Any reason besides her?"

"Yeah, this desk is wicked comfortable."

"Come on, Cohen, he told you what he wrote. You can share—"

"Cohen? You're Seth Cohen. Like Atomic County?"

"Wow, my fame precedes me," raising his legs on the desk and sitting Indian style, Seth adds, "I have ALWAYS wanted a set-up to say that line. Thanks Sean."

"Dude, you are so signing my copy of that book Wednesday."

At this point Sean and Marissa scooted their desks so that the four of them were sitting in a square. Taking the lead again, Seth began, "Alright, let's talk about some composing here."

"Yes, let's."

Standing in the doorway was a short man of about fifty leaning on his cane. His short grey beard and trimmed hair said college professor, but the leather jacket didn't. Deciding to ignore the jacket part, Seth slid off the desk and Sean and Marissa began to move their desks back.

Waving at them to stop, the man began, "No, no go back to your spots. Believe me you earned them. Everyone here is a freshman I assume?"

Taking their silence for affirmations, he continued walking and leaning again the blackboard near them said, "Always the way. Well, good morning class, my name is Professor Marcus Bernard. You can call me, Marcus, since I'm not likely to call any of you by your last names."

Seth interjected, "People say that but it never lasts with me."

"Well, Seth, as your 'jerk professor' for this class let me begin illuminating you. Every year I show up late for my first class, a few upperclassmen run out right away, knowing I give everyone who walks out a B- if they don't drop the class. Most of them still drop it rather than take the chance. The reason I do this is because I have been at it for more than 30 years and frankly I'm bored to death of stuffing unwanted information down the throats of 20-year-old throats that don't want to be here. I don't give a shit about grades. I may be an old fool, but I want to change lives. I'm too old and crippled and a bastard to care. Of course today my car broke down, I usually walk in with 15 to 20 students left, but I actually wasn't sure if anybody would be here today. Sure enough I'm blessed with four potential visionaries. Hopefully, we've weeded out all the drama queens and pseudo-intellectuals. I hope there is nobody left who is here to write about, as one student once told me, 'The Greatest Love'? No? Excellent, I strongly advise Professor Matthew's Poetry class in room 211 if you were. You four stuck it out. Now you need to make a promise to each other here. We are not just talking about writing. We're going to discuss dramatic writing. What we write in this class needs to be visceral and alive. There are not going to be any half-measures. I expect from the four of you to challenge yourselves. I want to see soul on the page or there will be no B- for you, there will be a big, fat F. Other students may return next class, but allow me to return the honesty I ask of you. I don't give a shit about them. I will wake up every morning and be here, on time, for you four alone. The others will have lower standards because in my mind's eye they are just taking up space. I am here this year to read what you give me. Write about pain, suffering, love, lust, family, diversity, art, literature, religion, philosophy. Write as if the everyday bullshit of your life is strangling you and this is your one and only chance to show anyone in the world HOW YOU FEEL!"

As he raised his voice to a full scream for the conclusion, the students looked around. Kelly looked a bit apprehensive, but Sean was beaming. Marissa and Seth looked at each other for a moment. They would definitely have no problem staying on target in this class.

"Anyone want to walk out to that B- now? Free shot," Bernard offered. After several moments, he began the class (40 minutes late). "Then before we're all strangled to death, let's begin."