My alarm clock woke me up. And it rang so loud that I'm sure that I went deaf in one ear. I rolled over to my bedside table and looked at my phone. It was 8:50am. Class starts at 9am. I may have overslept just a tad. I bolted out of bed, ran to my closet, panicked, picked something off the floor, changed, panicked some more, grabbed my bag, and rushed out the door.

Today is Monday, week two, at Blackwell Academy and I was almost late for Ms. Grant's Intro to Chemistry class. Fortunately, my dorm is so close to the classrooms that I made it just in time. One of the perks of living on campus. Thank you scholarships.

As soon as I arrived, my friend, Warren, waved at me. And on closer inspection, he was about as tired as I was. Warren Graham is your resident Blackwell Academy super geek. He's a nice guy, but may blow up your phone for science. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and is sporting a Star Wars T-shirt that I'm sure he also slept in.

Warren yawned. "Morning, Max. Did you do the homework?"

Homework? What homework? My heart sank and my response sounded shakey. "Uhhhh no? I thought that wasn't due until Wednesday. We have a lab today."

Warren covered his mouth and yawned again. "Nope, it's due today. Lab is tomorrow. Readings are for Wednesday."

I sat next to him and lowered my voice, "I hate to ask, but can you do me a solid? I really intended to do the homework but I didn't know it was due today."

He yawned a third time and a single tear ran down his face. "Sure I guess."

I took out my paper and placed it on my desk. Then, to my surprise, Warren pulls out a dead fox and drops it onto the table making a loud squish sound. The smell was revolting. What was once bright brown and white fur is now stained opaque crimson red. Then Warren, like a painter posing their muse, positioned the fox on a nearby dissection tray with careful attention.

I covered my face to prevent myself from vomiting. When I turned to my bag, it was gone. Instead, my bag was replaced by another dissection tray with a broken snow globe inside. I picked up the tray. Glitter was scattered all over it in small piles and broken pieces of a plastic doe were buried beneath. I instantly recognized it.

I dropped it out of pure instinct. As soon as I looked back at Warren, his features were different. The first right half of his face, the side turned to me, was now sporting a black eye. The other half, the side I didn't see before, was burned beyond recognition.

Flames began to burn on the scarred side of Warren's face. Warren's eyes glowed and pierced my soul with nothing but fury and annoyance. Then he spoke in a calm voice, "Did you forget about me, Max?"

I woke up in a cold sweat and gasped for air. It was morning. Fucking nightmares. I sat up and tried to collect myself but my body shivered from the winter cold. I'm not sure when it happened, but Chloe somehow took my comforter when I wasn't looking and now she's wrapped in a cocoon. Usually, I'd be upset but seeing Chloe's peaceful expression after 6 months away made my anger melt. Her face looked calm and peaceful and beautiful. Damn, I'm glad last night wasn't a dream.

My name is Maxine Caufield, but my friends call me Max. Yesterday, my girlfriend, Chloe Price, surprised me after her 6-month European excursion with her favorite band. Our relationship became long distance and strained due to a misunderstanding. But we've cleared that up I think.

I rolled over and tried to get comfortable, but couldn't. These nightmares have been appearing less often than previous years, but they still hurt. A lot. Usually it's different people: Warren, Joyce, Frank, Dana, Daniel, Principal Wells, Ms. Grant, Justin, etc. I don't remember exactly what happens in every dream, but I do remember the pain. Pain sticks. I'm pretty sure that's the universe telling me to stop being happy.

I gave up on falling asleep. Instead, I tip-toed downstairs trying my best to avoid making any noise. You'd think it'd be easy, but since my bedroom is an open loft, it's actually easy to hear what's happening downstairs. I didn't break stealth until I reached the kitchen. Since I was there, I made a cup of tea and headed for my laptop where my to-do list and my academic planner awaited.

My setup hasn't changed much over the years, but does have a few upgrades. My old laptop got replaced with a Macbook #freelancelife. My desk plant, Lisa, got a new pot since her original broke during the move. The rest is about the same. In the corner of my desk, there's a few Hawt Dawg Man figurines on top of a mini bookshelf. And next to that was a framed photo of me and Chloe on a trip from a few years ago. Hanging from the left side of my desk was my old pair of white and black headphones. It's a simple setup, but one that I admire every day.

I put on my headphones and got to work. Since it's Monday, I'm teaching a Fundamentals of Photography seminar to the undergraduates. Most of them take the class as an easy art credit, but to my surprise, a few of them actually take it seriously. In today's lesson, I'll be teaching three fundamentals of using a camera: exposure, shutter speed, and ISO. Usually, teachers have to follow a strict grading system involving homework, quizzes, and tests. But since I'm technically not a teacher and the seminar is treated as an elective, I have the freedom to teach a more hands-on approach.

I didn't want to be a teacher, but I couldn't let the opportunity walk by. First, I hated the hamster grind known as freelance hell. Second, as much as I hated the actual school work, I loved learning new things. And I missed it. A campus environment is perfect for that. Initially, part of me thought teaching would replace photography. Truth is, I'm teaching photography, so I can get better at it. Would an artist like Da Vinci, Picasso, or Van Gogh have done the same thing? Well, Vincent Van Gogh once said, "Great things are done by a series of small things brought together." So, if my time here opens more doors for better photos, then why not take it?

I spent the next hour going over my slides and making adjustments. I took off my headphones and finished typing some thoughts. As I was deep in thought, a voice shouted, "Morning Max!"

I nearly jumped out of my chair. It's only 7 in the morning and I wasn't expecting her to wake up until much later, much less already changed. She went from her PJs to camo green pants, black hiking boots, the brown jacket from yesterday and a navy blue sweater that matches her blue beanie. Did Chloe become a ninja or something?

Chloe peaked over my shoulder. "Whatcha workin' on?"

I started scrolling through some slides. "Just some big brain teacher stuff. I'm teaching a class later at 10, so I'm just looking over my notes."

Chloe smiled. "Damn, okay. In that case, I'll let you do your thing. I got some plans today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Plans? Already? Who are you and what did you do to my Chloe?"

Chloe let out an unamused chuckle. "Ha. Ha. No seriously, I have some plans today. Or at least a vague outline of it. And if it works out then I'll definitely let you know. But for now, just wish me luck and don't jinx it?"

I leaned my chair back and kissed her cheek. "Good luck."

Interrupting the moment, my orange tabby cat, Miso, jumped on my lap and rubbed his ears against the backside of my hands, expecting his morning scratches. I complied.

Chloe's cheeks flushed and coughed a few times. "Okay Max," Chloe said in a soft voice. "I'll see you later?"

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a key. "Before I forget, in case I'm still in class, take this. It's a spare key to the house. I wouldn't want you to freeze outside waiting for me."

She picked up the key in thanks and stepped out the door. And just like that, Chloe Price has left the building. For now, at least.

Since there were no more distractions, I went back to my notes with Miso still on my lap.

When I taught my first seminar, I couldn't tell you how nervous I was. Prior to Caledon, public speaking was definitely not my forte. It didn't help that 40-50 students showed up at the first one and the lecture hall looked like a miniature version of an ancient Greek theatre. Plus, I'm not the most confident person in the world. To some of the older students, I might as well be the same age. But over the past 6 months, I think I'm fairly comfortable telling people how I do things.

I made it to the lecture hall early. To my surprise, a few students were already waiting just outside the entrance. The first was Reggie Kagan, a sophomore with short black hair, brown eyes, and a pierced eyebrow. With what I presume to be coffee in his thermos, he seems to be just waking up. The second, who was talking to him, was Diamond Washington, a 3rd year student with clasps on her dark braided hair, beneath an ever-present bucket hat. I know her more than other students since she's also Moses' TA. The third was Loretta Rice, another sophomore. She probably arrived moments before me because she's still wearing double layers between a blue winter coat and a neon pink hoodie. She has blonde hair, green eyes, and a chip on her shoulder so big it would fit in a can of Pringles. Metaphorically speaking of course.

"Good morning," I said to the three of them as I opened the door.

Ten minutes later, more students began to arrive. Because of my "not a teacher" status, there's no actual punishment I can give for tardiness. That doesn't mean I'm gonna waste anyone's time for actually being present. As everyone took their seats, I counted 12 students. I set up my laptop and eventually began teaching.

The next 30 minutes of class was pure lecture. It was still beginner level knowledge that they could've found online, so I wasn't asked many questions. It's also the second week of school, so we're still focusing on fundamentals. In the background, I noticed Loretta throwing something at Diamond and Reggie. I kept lecturing and pretended not to notice. What are we in, high school? I can deal with that later.

Another 10 minutes passed and class was almost over. Before class ended, I gave one more assignment. "One more thing before you go," I said in a stern voice. "I'd like each of you to practice what we learned today by sending me a photo by the end of this week. I want you to play with exposure, shutter speed, ISO, and any other camera settings we've learned so far and send me the best one. I'll choose the best ones to feature on the official Caledon pages."

The students started talking amongst themselves. Some of them expressed interest but mostly groaned. "How about we make this more fun?" Loretta asked. "Let's make this a competition. And Max picks the best one."

The other students whispered to themselves. "I'm all for it!" said a student.

"That's a terrible idea," said another.

"You're the only teacher that actually lets us do something. We can show off!" said a third student.

I held up my hands in protest. "That's not–"

Diamond stood up and the other students turned quiet. "I think that's a great idea," she said, turning to Loretta with a look of conviction. "It doesn't hurt to have some healthy competition. You can't feature everyone in the real world right?"

The other students began talking over each other, and the overall consensus was turning this activity into a contest. I know college was a chance to prove one's self. But I didn't want my classroom to become a jungle. At the same time, my teacher's senses were tingling. A bit of healthy competition can bring out improvement, not just encouragement. Caledon's social media page wasn't exactly the most popular in the world, but it wasn't a ghost town. Alumni for the past 10 years have been following and maybe featuring them would actually be a good portfolio builder.

I took a deep breath and thought carefully. "Fine. Let's make it a healthy competition under one condition." I walked over to my bag and pulled out my Hawt Dawg Man keychain. "You must use Hawt Dawg Man somewhere in your photo. He can be the subject or someplace random in the background. Your choice."

The students began talking amongst themselves again. Making Hawt Dawg Man part of the competition was not in the plan but it helps me in three ways. First, it's one way to prove that the photos were taken this week. Despite being an international sensation, Hawt Dawg Man isn't the most popular figure to a group of university students. He's around, but not many people particularly pay attention to him. Second, it gives the students something extra to play with, almost like a prompt. That way, there is a centralized theme outside of just using manual camera features and whatever happened on campus this week. And lastly….Hawt Dawg Man is cool and he needs more recognition. Long live Hawt Dawg Man.

Class was quickly dismissed afterwards. Most of the students left while I was answering individual questions. While talking with a different student, I notice Loretta and Diamond still at each other's throats. Reggie seems to be playing peacemaker and they exchange a few words. Diamond stormed off, seemingly fed up from their conversation. Loretta grabbed her bag, proud of her work, then eventually left the room as well. Reggie slouched back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

I walked over to Reggie. "Everything okay?" I asked.

"Diamond and Loretta are at it again. They have some sort of beef going on." Reggie leaned forward and took a deep breath. "You know how competitive they are. Loretta is driven to be the best and Diamond has her recent accomplishments."

I knew the feeling all too well. "Ah I know what you mean. Strong personalities."

Reggie gave me a small smile. "Did you really intend to make this a serious competition?"

I shrugged. "Not exactly. In a perfect world, I wanted this to be fun but relaxed. I had no idea you guys wanted something more."

Reggie breathed a deep sigh and scratched his head. "That was mostly Loretta. Her podcast has been popular lately and I think the popularity is getting to her head. I think some of the other guys are going head over heels for her"

I let out an instinctive sigh. "That's so…high school."

Reggie laughed. "Tell me about it."

Reggie picked up his backpack ready to leave, but stopped. "Thanks Max…for listening. I have some free time tomorrow, so you'll have my photo by Wednesday, hopefully."

Reggie left right after and I should get going too. But as I was putting my stuff away, someone knocked on the door. Safi leaned on the door frame ecstatically. "Guess who?" she said open-endedly, waiting for the right response.

I paused. "The FBI?"

Safi's expression soured. "You're damn right!" She pulled out her hands and pointed them into the shape of guns. "You're under arrest for impersonating an actual tenured professor. You should know better."

I put my hands up. "You can't arrest me officer, I know my rights!"

Safi stared down the barrel and shot me dead. I placed my hands over my stomach and faked an injury to the point where we both started laughing.

Safi placed a hand on her hip. "You're a good sport, Max. Great class today. I was in the hallway for the last 15 minutes," Safi said. "You seemed to really get the hang of it, turning that assignment into a contest."

I shrugged. "That's what happens when you teach the cool electives: you're a teacher, but you're also not. Plus, if it makes them actually care about the assignment, then why the heck not."

Safi shrugged. "Anyways, I have some good news to tell you."

"Sure, what's up?" I asked.

"I just got off the phone with a potential publisher. We've been talking for a few weeks now. " Safi took a deep breath before continuing. "I think my poetry book is getting picked up!"

I grinned from ear to ear. Safi has been writing poetry for years now and she's been working her butt off. She's written up at least 30 poems for her first book and from what I've read, it's actually pretty good. Admittedly, I'm not much of a literature person, but I can see the artist's look in Safi's eyes. Safi's a great friend and she deserves to get her big break.

I started clapping. "That's amazing, Safi! Congratulations!"

Safi bowed in a little curtsy. "Thank you, Thank you. Please hold the applause. You're the first one who knows. I don't want to jinx it too much by telling people, but you're my bestie and I wanted you to know. I'm expecting something final within the next few days, I'll let you know by the end of the week how it turns out. Please-"

My phone rang and interrupted our conversation. The caller ID read "Yasmin". Dr. Yasmin Fayyad is the current president of Caledon university, Safi's mother, and also my boss.

"Sorry, I have to take this," I said to Safi. Safi wiped her forehead. "Don't worry about it, duty calls."

I stepped aside and answered the phone. "Maxine?" Yasmin asked.

I regained my professional tone and spoke calmly. "Hi Dr. Yasmine. How may I help you?"

Yasmine spoke in a direct tone. "I need your help regarding the greek life campaign. The Abraxis Society is ending their rush week and they need someone to photograph their block party. Please talk to Vinh for the details."

I fought the urge to groan. "No problem. I'll speak to Vinh ASAP."

Yasmine responded. "Thank you, Maxine. I know I can count on you." She hung up the phone.

"I'm guessing mom has you running around again?" Safi asked.

I groaned. "Yep. This time with Vinh. Abraxas is finishing up rush week and they need someone to photograph their party. I'll have to talk to him for the details."

Safi whistled. "You're in for a real treat. Abraxas goes hard on their initiates and they tend to party hard."

"Have you partied with them before?" I asked.

"A few times." Safi answered. "Depending on which officer is hosting it, it can be pretty chill. But if Vinh's doing it, be prepared to jump through a lot of unnecessary hoops."

I tilted my head. "Why would I have to go through hoops? I'm not the one getting initiated or anything."

Safi leaned on the podium. "Vinh...has his mind set on certain things. He's a perfectionist by nature and that makes him abrasive as hell. Dude needs to take a chill pill. He'll probably ask you to be more involved than just taking pictures. Abrasive Abraxas Asshole."

I chuckled. "Abrasive Abraxas? Is that some sort of poetry line?"

"That's a bar," Safi said sarcastically in a deep voice. "No seriously, he's been an asshole lately. So I don't want you to get in trouble with mom in case things go south. Just a heads up."

I smiled. "Well, thanks Safi. I appreciate it. I've only spoken to Vinh a few times since I've been here but I mainly get directions from your mom."

"No problemo. Mom is very hands-on anyways." Safi stepped towards the door but turned to face me. "Good luck Max. And last thing, please don't tell anyone about the publisher-thing, including mom. I'm keeping it a secret till I sign. And plus, if mom knew, I wouldn't hear the end of it."

I picked up my things. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

I finally packed my things and locked the room before leaving. Safi and I said our goodbyes, then I stepped outside into the cold air. Vinh is usually in his office in the FAB, so to the FAB, we go.

The Federal Arts Building, also known as the FAB for short, is the oldest building in Caledon. It was originally a chapel back in 1894, but got remodeled over time into a three-story building to fit five different departments: Visual Arts, Literature, Filmmaking, Mixed Media, and Music. Despite all the renovations, it still maintains a gothic architecture with some modern elements.

Vinh Lang is Caledon's Administrative Assistant and his office is on the 2nd floor, just outside of Yasmine's. Vinh is also the president of the Abraxas Society, a co-ed fraternity made of Caledon's best. The rumors are that it's difficult to join, but once you do, you're destined for greatness. At least that's what Reggie and Diamond have told me before.

Vinh was deep in thought, typing on his laptop. He's wearing his usual outfit, a stylish blazer that complements a colorful shirt. He has brown eyes, slicked back dark hair, and a cleanly shaved face that some people would call dashing and other people, punchable. He finally noticed me, but continued typing on his computer.

"Dr. Fayyad isn't in her office at the moment," Vinh said without looking. "Should I leave her a message?"

I stepped to the side in front of his screen. "Ummm Vinh? I'm actually here to speak to you."

Vinh's eyes lit up and turned to me. "Ohhh Max! Sorry, I didn't see you there." He closed his laptop. "How can I help you?"

I answered, "Yasmine called me. She said Abraxas needs a photographer for the Rush Week Block Party?"

Vinh folded his hands and smiled. "Correct, we do. But we don't need a photographer, we need THE photographer." He stood up from his chair and gestured towards the hallway and other parts of the room in a dramatic fashion. "Imagine this, an amazing block party featuring costumes from the roaring twenties, a commemorative dance our alumni had before us, and food and drinks to celebrate a momentous occasion." He leaned closer towards me. "Your photos, my vision. Together, we could make something…unforgettable."

I bit my tongue to hold in my laughter - or my need to barf. "Chill, drama king. I'm taken. I'm just here because Yasmine asked me to. What are the details?"

Vinh kept his playful smile. I'm not sure if he heard me or not. "The party is Friday night, 6pm. We'll be at the Abraxas House on Kingswood Boulevard. We'll open with a live band. Then the pledges will treat us with their own performance of the Foxtrot and the Charleston. Then finally, we'll bring out the drinks…." Vinh reached into a small letterbox and handed me a couple of ticket stubs. "And who knows what's next?"

I took the small piece of paper and stepped back. It's one thing to be flirty, but this was a bit uncomfortable. Vinh casually returned the roll of tickets and added a box of thumbtacks and a few rolls of tape. "Anything else you'd like to know? I have to start selling these around campus."

"What is this?" I asked.

He lifted the box with both hands. "We're opening up the party to the public for a small fee. That will get you past the door. Bring a few friends along and tell them I sent you. The more the merrier," He winked.

In what now seemed like a hurry, Vinh rushed out of the room without much of a goodbye. That conversation was a little pretentious, but then again, it's Vinh. You either love him or hate him. I took a deep breath. "Okay Max, looks like you got a lot of work ahead of you."