Today is Friday, March 15th. It's been two days since Jonah and I turned nineteen years old, and man is it a lot to take in right now. We're now the same age Aunt Goldie and Aunt Maya were when Aunt Petunia was born. I can't imagine how stressful it must have been for them to help Great-Great-Grandma Diamond take care of her, especially when they were easily old enough to have been her mothers. I can't imagine how especially stressful it must have been for Aunt Maya since this was around the same time her old nanny was dying of cancer. In some respects, I'm just like her, and that kinda scares me. What if I end up going down the same path she does despite everything I've worked for? It would be a tragedy if it came down to that.

I can't worry about all those hypothetical futures right now. Actually, scratch that. I shouldn't be thinking about those hypothetical futures. They're distracting me from the now. The now is more important, especially because spring break ends in two days and Quilene and I are supposed to go back to Rutgers before then. So we decide to cut our stay in Beach City and start heading back to our dorm. We start packing up our things, and we all say goodbye to our significant others and to the members of my family and to all the other people we know here. We make sure to let them know that we plan to come back to them when we can, and we hopefully plan to do that soon. Honestly, it's kinda sad that we have to leave them behind again, but we really don't have much of a choice. Spring break ends soon, and we need to be back at Rutgers before classes are supposed to resume.

As we get into my car, Quilene and I start talking.

"Man, I just can't wait for this semester to be over," Quilene breathes out. "I'm not sure how much of this I can take."

"Me neither," I rejoin. "But at the same time, it's been pretty fun. I've got Fridays off, for God's sake. Besides, the exams we took before spring break weren't all that bad."

"True. Still, I just wish summer would hurry up and get here already. I wanna go out on the shore and surf with my family."

"If our grades are good, then we could totally go surfing together. If not, that's okay. We could still surf." I turn the key in the ignition and start the car. "It's a win-win."

Quilene's expression changes as a realization seems to dawn on her. "Yeah... grades don't actually matter all that much. They matter, but not as much as we're led to believe. At the end of the day, we are more important than any score written down on a paper."

As I drive to Rutgers, so many emotions run through me at once; happiness, excitement, anxiety, sorrow... it's like being on a roller-coaster, a roller-coaster designed with so many loop-de-loops that you always get thrown by the sudden twists and turns. Everything I'm feeling at once permeates the inside of my car. I do my best to focus on my driving.

"Hey, mind if I turn on the radio?" Quilene asks me.

"Sure, no problem," I reply. "Whatever's playing on there is fine."

Quilene presses down on the radio knob and then tunes in to the nearest radio station within range. Coincidentally enough, "Be Wherever You Are" is playing. I swear this song fits me and Quilene so well. It's just so uncanny how Steven managed to write this song about us before we even existed. She turns the volume up as if she wants to desperately hear this song.

Isn't this such a beautiful night?
Whoa, we're underneath a thousand shining stars
Isn't it nice to find yourself somewhere different?
Whoa, why don't you let yourself just be wherever you are?

I actually rather enjoy this song. It's so calm and serene, and it makes me think back to that summer after graduation when April and I confessed our feelings for one another and became girlfriends.

Look at this place, look at your faces
I've never seen you look like this before
Isn't it nice to find yourself somewhere different?
Whoa, why don't you let yourself just be wherever you are?

I wonder how Uncle Steven still feels about this song. I bet he's still fond of it. I mean, why wouldn't he? It's a nice song.

Look at this place, look at your faces
They're shining like a thousand shining stars
Isn't it nice to find yourself somewhere different?
Whoa, why don't you let yourself just be wherever you are?

Why don't you let yourself just be somewhere different?
Whoa, why don't you let yourself just be whoever you are?

It's still daylight out when Quilene and I make it back to Nichols Apartments. God, I already miss my family and April. I hope they'll be alright without me. Aw, who am I kidding? They managed to survive when I first went off to Rutgers, and they'll survive when classes resume on Monday. Quilene and I get out of the car and start unpacking our things.

"So..." I begin to speak. "How was your first time with Jonah?"

Quilene grins at me. "Pretty nice, actually. Jonah and I decided to take things slow and let our chemistry do the rest of the work. Plus, we made sure to communicate to each other what made us comfortable."

"Nice. I'm so glad to hear that."

"Thank you. How did you and Jonah enjoy your birthday?"

"Fantastic. Jonah and I got new Macbooks. Those should really come in handy for the rest of this semester and especially next semester." I pause for thought. "Speaking of, have you signed up for fall classes yet?"

Quilene shakes her head. "Not yet. Registration doesn't start until April 15th, so we've got plenty of time to go over what classes we want to take this fall."

"Ah, okay. I was worried that we were running out of time. That's a relief. So what do we do in the meantime?"

"I was gonna say continue taking the classes we're already taking, but I think that goes without saying. Alright, where do you want me to put your Macbook?"

I think for a minute. "How about put it on the kitchen table? I'll move it into my room later."

"Sounds good to me."

Today is Monday, March 18th. Spring break is officially over. Today, I've only got Creative Nonfiction to take from 1:10 PM to 2:30 PM. Quilene's also got some classes she's got to take during the evening, so I've got an entire morning to kill to get the feel of my new Macbook and start finishing up on assignments I managed to back up beforehand. Quilene comes in to check on me.

"How do you like your new Macbook?" Quilene asks me. "Must be running pretty good, huh?"

"Oh yeah, it runs very well," I reply. "I can't believe how much work I've already managed to get done on this thing. I'll just submit one of these to Canvas early and I'll be on my way."

"Well, good for you. I think I'll just go and check my e-mails real quick."

That gets all the gears in my head to start turning. "Oh, uh, me too, actually. Thanks for reminding me."

"No problem. Okay, I'll go check my e-mails now." She quietly leaves and shuts the door behind her. "Meanwhile, you can just go and do your own thing."

Some time passes. I work and work and multitask between the assignments that still aren't finished to the best of my abilities. I guess I'm finding out the hard way what it's like to concurrently work on assignments, and I'm not even a sophomore yet. Still, I can't quite expect perfection for myself during all this. Grades don't actually matter all that much. Okay, they do matter (college is expensive, after all), but not as much as we're led to believe. At the end of the day, we are more important than any score written down on a paper. It's almost 12:30 in the afternoon when I decide to save my work and leave for class. I've got forty minutes before class is supposed to start, so I need to hurry up and just get there already. I just sprint out of my room and out of my apartment with my backpack strapped to my shoulders, wanting to make sure I get to class on time.

Okay, I've made it. I head straight for Hegeman Hall and don't even hesitate to sprint over to the room where Creative Nonfiction is being held. Much to my relief, Professor Sweet hasn't shown up yet. Some students have already beaten me to it, sure, but Professor Sweet isn't here yet, so I'm not late. I just take a seat and sit down, making sure to set my backpack beside me. Okay, I guess I have some time before Professor Sweet shows up. How about I quickly check my phone and see if anybody's tried to text me in the meantime? I quickly send Quilene a text wishing her luck on going back to class before Professor Sweet walks in and I have to put away my phone.

In walks Professor Sweet. He's placing what look to be copies of a memoir on his desk and then sheets for a fill-in form. I can't help but get this feeling that he wants to do a little assignment where we have to write down our observations on what happens in the memoir.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor Sweet says just as he's straightened up the pile of fill-in forms. "I hope you've been going over your syllabuses because today, we will be talking about the memoir 'Crazy Love' by Leslie Morgan Steiner. Now who here has already heard about it or read it before? Raise your hands."

I quickly shoot my hand up in the air. I remember reading that memoir back in high school once upon a time and doing a book report on it. I still can't believe the author was even in that situation to begin with, but then again, it's reality for some people around the world. Still, I can't help but wonder why he picked this particular memoir when he could've easily picked any other best-selling memoir on the market.

"Okay, so if you've heard about it or read it before, then you're probably already familiar with the messages it espouses," Professor Sweet continues. "You've already seen how it takes you inside the violent, devastating world of abusive love and makes you feel the power and powerlessness that Leslie felt when she was with Conor. I assigned this memoir because I want you to see how Leslie uses creative writing to guide you through her journey and see what it was like for her to be in an abusive relationship."

While he talks, I take notes. I try to make sure I get as much information into my notebook as I can. I acutely understand how important Leslie's story is, and I understand how it may resonate with others who wear the shoes she once wore or already wore those shoes and since swapped them out. When class gets out, I'm definitely going to work hard on the assignment.

"Is there anyone here who would like to explain why the memoir is so well-regarded among readers?" Professor Sweet asks the class. "Anyone at all?"

I raise my hand again.

"Yes, Miss Harvey-Dahl?" Professor Sweet asks me. "Do you have anything you'd like to contribute?"

"It's because Leslie uses her creative writing skills to describe her story as if she's writing from a character's point of view," I explain. "She's specifically using the first-person perspective so the readers can see how this experience affected her. She uses creative prose because she's essentially telling a story."

"That's a nice take, Miss Harvey-Dahl. Bravo." Professor Sweet looks around. "Anybody else want to explain why the memoir is so well-regarded among readers?" He sees Andersyn raise their hand. "Yes, Andersyn? Do you have anything you'd like to contribute?"

From there, I stop listening and continue to focus on copying what's been written on the whiteboard. As much as I love this class and as much as I like my other classes, I can't wait for this semester to be over. I can't wait until the summer when I can see my family again and spend time with them. I'm also hoping to spend some with Quilene and her family once the semester is over. It's still unbelievable that we started off as merely roommates in college, but now... we are so much more than that. We're friends and, judging by the way things are going between her and Jonah, we will be family.