by Stacey Quinn
Once the lecturer finally arrived, and the rest of the 22-strong class were in their seats (none of whom chose the seat next to Sienna, which brought her a bitter feeling of joy and supremacy), the class could finally begin. The lecturer was a young woman – wavy, golden-blonde hair, a rosy, over-smiling face and a similar floaty top to the tie-dye monstrosities. Sienna automatically shelved her with those insufferable girls, and forced herself to listen to her high-pitched, girly yammering just long enough to get the gist of that terms project, before tuning out and allowing herself to be absorbed into her sketch pad and her dark truths that took picture form on their pages. Once again her mind began to drift towards the past – reminiscing over feelings she was sure she’d never be able feel again, over faces (well, just the one face to be honest) that she longed to see again, to touch, to kiss. Her mind flashed over the too few perfect ‘Kodak’ moments that they had managed to steal, her eyes glazed over and her hands unconsciously flitted across the paper, spilling her secret thoughts onto the pages as they went.
Lunch time arrived and Sienna headed to the canteen alone, clinging to the walls as much as she could, wishing she could become a part of the surroundings, like a chameleon. But life wasn’t that kind, so she did the next best thing and glowered coldly at anyone who made eye contact, or who paid her more attention than just a passing glance. A few of them whispered to each other as she passed –
“That must be the new girl, you know – the one that transferred or whatever.”
“Clearly a weirdo. What’s her deal anyway?”
“I think she went to rehab or something.”
“Huh. Doesn’t look like it worked.
Sienna could have retaliated, but that would just be lowering herself to their level. Besides, she found their childish, inaccurate judgment somewhat amusing, so instead she showered her silent disdain down upon these comparative emotional and intellectual toddlers, from her position up on the high road. She got as far as the canteens swinging, double doors before coming to a halt – stopped dead in her tracks by the wave of immense noise that emanated from behind them and slapped her straight across the face, so loud it practically knocked the wind out of her. It was the sound of a thousand voices belonging to people that Sienna had no desire to be near. Just from the tone of the chatter, she could tell the canteen was full to the brim of the childish, ignorant, oblivious individuals that this institution seemed to be a sanctuary for. Where were the intellectual, interesting adults? Surely she couldn’t be the only one in this entire place?
Without Sienna even being aware of it, her feet had begun back-tracking, leading her away from the roaring beast that was the canteen and towards her old, dear friend – the English department. Somehow, she automatically knew where she was going, expertly navigating the twisting, turning maze of corridors and steps, as if following some inner satellite navigation. It took her a little while – the English rooms and the library were hidden deep within the depths of the College, and the closer she got, the less and less people she came across, and the heavier the air became with the feeling of academia and the alluring, intoxicating smell of books. As she got closer and closer, her feet began pounding the corridor carpets with more intensity, her heart beat harder and faster in her chest, and nervous, excited butterflies fluttered around the depths of her stomach, as if she were on her way to a first date.
She was practically running by the time the double doors of the library came into view. Nothing but silence and majesty emanated from behind these doors, and for the first time in a long time, Sienna felt something other than contempt or misery. She felt like she was coming home. She barreled through the swinging doors, earning herself a sharp, cautionary glare from the bespectacled librarian.
The next half hour was bliss. Sienna ambled through the silent, majestic, towering bookshelves, delicately tracing all the old, cracking, dusty spines with one gentle finger, her eyes glistening with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning. She wandered down the empty aisles, free from any judging eyes watching her as she caressed her old friends, until she came to a small, deserted table right at the back of the library. It was here that she let her bag slide off her shoulder, and took a seat amongst the Shakespeare and Rilke that occupied this corner, taking pleasure in the odd fact that she got along better with these long-dead poets than with anyone her own age.
Sienna took a seat at the lone table, pulling a chair out as quietly as she could, not that there was anyone else in the library to disturb, and ate her pleasantly lonely lunch of a ham and cheese roll, some breadsticks & Hummus. As much as she loved to be back amongst her old, quiet, highbrow companions once more, it didn't take a huge amount of time for Sienna to begin feeling as if there was something missing - this perfect picture had a gaping hole in it, one that grew wider and wider with each bite of her sandwich.
After just a few brief minutes of elation, dark, miserable fingers began clawing once more at the back of her mind, curling themselves around the tiny spark of happiness in her chest and quickly snuffing it out, as easily as blowing out a candle. Sienna had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop the childish, bitter tears that were threatening to form at the corners of her eyes. She scolded herself silently - "Stupid girl." She thought, "What were you expecting? What were you trying to achieve by coming here?" Of course it wasn't going to be the same - it would never be the same. She allowed herself just a few moments of reminiscence - a few moments of weakness as she recalled the library at her old College - how gloriously still and silent it had been in the dead of night, how the liquid-smooth moonlight had gently fallen onto the stacks of books, illuminating some while casting others in deep shadow. She remembered the feeling of strong, sure hands gripping hers passionately as their owner led her forwards into the thrilling darkness, and goose bumps appeared across her skin as she recalled the warmth of his palms on her thighs, spreading her legs as she'd lain her naked body back onto the cold, hard surface of the table beneath.
Sienna was so enthralled in her own memories that she didn't notice she had company until she was ripped from her reverie by the loud squealing and scraping sound of the chair next to her as it was pulled back. Her eyes snapped open, her brow immediately angry and furrowed before she'd even laid eyes on the culprit. She became even more insulted and irate once her eyes landed on the perpetrator of the vile noise - a six foot tall, denim-short clad Jock, who was grinning sheepishly down at Sienna, and who for some ridiculous reason had chosen to wear his 'Famous Stars & Straps' label baseball cap at what Sienna assumed was an attempt at a jaunty angle. The word 'tosser' instantly sprang to her mind.
"Sorry." The intruder blurted all too loudly in the silent room, causing Sienna's frown to deepen even further, and even making himself flinch at the noise and dart nervous looks over both his shoulders. "Sorry." He repeated in a chagrined whisper, followed by an uncomfortable silence during which Sienna simply stared coldly and challengingly at him, while the boy continued to grin like a fool, seemingly unsure of his next move.
"I...I'm Sam." He finally managed to stutter out. "Can I...erm...Is it ok if I sit with you?" He asked, his eyes cast downwards as he gestured to the chair next to her, a red flush beginning to creep up his neck.
" I was actually just leaving." Sienna replied in the most cool, calm, blasé voice she could muster, turning indifferently away from Sam and packing her things quickly back into her bag before standing up abruptly.
"Oh, right...OK." He muttered, looking and sounding as dejected as a puppy that had just been kicked, so much so that even Sienna almost found herself feeling slightly sorry for him, until she turned around and was confronted once more with the ridiculous 'hip' angle of his cap. Ostensibly oblivious to her disdain, Sam continued gibbering at Sienna in another vain attempt at starting a conversation.
"I just wanted to say 'Welcome!'" He blurted, taking a nervous half-step towards her. "You...you're new here, right?" He finished uncertainly.
"Yes." She snapped imp
atiently.
"Well, I hope you enjoy it here." Sam offered proudly, his cheesy grin now firmly back in place and his right hand forming into an automatic, equally cheesy thumbs up. Sienna scoffed at the display, almost laughing at the thought of actually 'enjoying' herself here, and hoisted her backpack further up onto her shoulders, walking purposefully and pointedly away from the blubbering Jock behind her.
Just when she thought she'd escaped, Sam called from behind her once more.
"Stephen King!" He practically yelled, an edge of desperation now marring his voice. Sienna could have simply carried on walking away, but something in her made her stop and spin around on the spot, partly just to glower once more at the fool.
"What?!" She hissed, her eyes slits of scorn that seemed to burn through his very flesh and caused his cheeks to instantly turn a deep shade of mauve. He reached nervously to the bookshelf next to him, shaking hands plucking one of the volumes off the 2nd shelf from the top, and holding it out towards Sienna like some kind of offering.
"Stephen King." He repeated less confidently, his voice quickly turning to a mumble that Sienna had to strain to hear. "I...I assume you like books. You should...You should read this one - it's really...well...good." He finished feebly, his shoulders slumped in embarrassment. She glanced down at the novel in his hands - Stephen King’s 'The Stand' - and her eyes involuntarily widened in surprise.
"Yes, I've read it." Sienna heard herself saying, the ice suddenly gone from her voice. "It is very good."
Sam’s eyes rose to meet hers hopefully, but Sienna speedily came to her senses, quickly adding -
"But everyone knows that." In as cold and dismissive a voice as she could muster. She didn't wait for the boys reaction, turning and marching briskly out of the library before he could ambush her into talking to him again, furious with herself for falling for his trick, however briefly.
By the time she'd stormed back out of the catacombs of the English department and had made her way back to the main entrance hall of the College, she was already ten minutes late to her next lecture. Not that she cared - there was nothing that giggly, blonde woman could possibly teach her that she hadn't already taught herself, and it wasn't as if anyone would notice whether she was there or not. She didn't even glance at the staircase leading up to the Art department as she passed it on her way across the main entrance hall and towards the College's automatic main doors, that revolved eerily round and round on their own, accompanied by a faint and ghostly swishing noise. She dug frantically in her leather jacket pockets, fumbling for the pack of Richmond's and sparking one up the second those spinning doors had spewed her out into the harsh, bright heat of the outside world. She angrily blew out a thick cloud of nicotine and tar, before taking another deep, vicious drag and charging around the corner to the bike sheds. That Jock boy had confused her, and Sienna didn't appreciate being confused - it was an insult to her intelligence. She paced back and forth in front of the rows of chained up bikes, puffing away furiously until there was nothing left but a hot, burnt filter, sizzling in her fingertips as she squeezed it tightly between them. She flicked it away, sparked up another and continued pacing, unable to figure out whether the boy had chosen Stephen King as a lucky guess or whether he actually had some level of taste, intellect and acumen. Could he possibly know what that book meant to her? Of the bittersweet memories it induced of being read to in a secret, sunny park, her head cradled in a loving lap? On one hand a person would have to possess some kind of sagacity and insight to appreciate and recognize Stephen King’s work as the little pieces of genius that they are. While on the other hand, how could a Jock - just one of the millions of sheep in a mindless flock - have even a scrap of intelligence and still want to be a Jock, to follow the brain-dead herd? Moreover, what could a Jock possibly want with her - the girl who went out of her way to show that she didn't want to follow the crowd? The sort of girl who would usually be fodder for their childish jibes? The second cigarette came and went just as quickly as the first, and Sienna still felt just as flustered, baffled and irritated.
She moved away from the bike sheds, making her way around the edge of the car park to the 'official' smoking area, hidden away and isolated at the very top corner of the College grounds. The smoking area was a fairly small, graveled area, surrounded and protected by slightly overgrown trees and bushes, the few benches and bins within just about visible through the narrow, unmarked entrance. Within moments of entering this tiny patch of nature, with its leafy, green embrace, and shimmering, dappled pattern of sunbeams on the ground, Sienna felt a lot calmer, and settled down on the bench in the far corner. But despite the tranquil effect of the trees and foliage, Sienna had still managed to go through three quarters of her carton of cigarettes by the time the Bus rolled up just over an hour later. She clambered onto it moodily, in much the same fashion as she had done that morning, with that same feeling of dread and anticipation in the pit of her stomach.
Sam's day had been somewhat better than he'd expected. It had started off like any other College day - greeting the boys with his well-practiced smile and thumbs up, which was reciprocated with equally well-rehearsed, unnecessarily complicated handshakes and a loud roar of boyish shouts and slaps on the back. He repeated the handshake with each one of his friends, raising his voice with theirs, seeming every inch the blissfully ignorant, happy-go-lucky, typical lad that everyone else expected him to be. While still being faked, it came to him easier than he expected at first - much easier than it had in front of the mirror that morning, so while his mind worried over the memory of his weak, puking mother, his body nudged the guy next to him in the ribs, and pointed lasciviously towards the three short skirts that had just wandered past.
The group of guys, looking almost like identical sextuplets in their surfer shorts and stylish baseball caps, continued to laugh and banter as they made their way through the long, twisting corridors to their first lecture - English. Each was taking it in turns to boast loudly about their so-called summer conquests - Johnny had apparently used his charms to hook up with a lesbian, to which Lee had quickly replied -
"Probably 'cus she liked your tits!" Grabbing at their slightly chubby friends chest.
"I'd like to see any of you do better." Came Johnny's sulky reply as he ducked out of the reach of his friends wandering, groping hands.
"Well I sure did." Dan piped up from Sam's left, his voice full of bravado as he puffed out his chest. "Maggie - my Mum's best friend." He finished, practically beaming with adolescent pride.
There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the entire group exploded into laughter, none of them catching on to the falseness of Sam's chortles, that had started just a second after everyone else's'. He was trying to keep up, but worry for his mother continued to grow at the back of his mind, and guilt for leaving her in such a state was beginning to gnaw in the pit of his stomach. He shook it away as best he could - the dumb cow brought it on herself, so why should he be feeling guilty, especially after spending his entire summer looking after her and wiping her vomit-covered chin every morning. Plus, she had gotten herself in much worse states before, so he was sure she'd be fine (or whatever version of 'fine' his mother was capable of being these days). He focused his attention as best as he could back onto his group of friends. This is what mattered right now - he was finally back in College and he couldn't afford to lose this normal, unsullied part of his life, not without risking losing his sanity as well. He dived straight back into the interaction, laughing jovially and poking fun along with the rest of them, and though he tried his best to remember how he would have felt last year, before everything had turned to shit, no matter how hard he tried to recall those feelings, none would come to him.
Not that any of those around him seemed at all aware of the mask their best friend now wore, and now it was Sam's turn for the limelight.
"What about you, Sam? Did you do any better?" Adam challenged from just behind Sam's shoulder. Sam's mind stuttered, trying fra
ntically to pull the right response from its depths, but his smile did not falter, and after just a brief pause he replied cockily -
"Much better than a menopausal O.A.P and a lezzer, that's for sure!" He said confidently, nodding mockingly at Dan and Johnny respectively. This induced another hearty, booming round of laughter, and Sam silently congratulated himself on a situation well-handled as he received yet more convivial pats on the back and high-fives. Maybe, just maybe, he could enjoy this day after all.
Despite his initial anger at his mother, and his promise not to let her interfere with his College day, he couldn't quite shake the feeling of worry and abashed guilt, and so half way through his first lecture of the day, Sam gave in.
He'd chosen a seat at the very back of the classroom, partly because that's where his friends chose to sit (it seemed the further back you were, the cooler you were), and partly because it gave him the opportunity to sink low in his seat, avoid the gaze of the lecturer, and let his mind wander. It wasn't as if he needed to pay attention anyway - he was secretly already way ahead of everyone else in the classroom, thanks to his father teaching him more than any College lecturer ever could - before everything had gone wrong that is. Sam was probably educated to around degree level, and the only reason he was actually taking this course was for his C.V, not that he would ever let that on to anyone, or that anyone would think it from looking at him.