by Gemma Weir
“What class do you have, Griff?” I ask.
“Computer Science. What about you?”
“British Classics. I’m so excited,” I gush, skipping a little.
“Nerd,” Griff coughs again.
“Yep and proud,” I say, spinning around to bob my tongue out at him.
When we reach the college entrance, I pause, taking a moment to look up at the huge iron gates that loom above us. Inhaling a reaffirming breath, I step through, a smile breaking across my lips as I take in the sea of students just like us that are milling along the paths.
“This is it,” I whisper.
“Yep,” Griff says, dropping his arm across my shoulders. “Let’s go learn some shit.”
When we reach the central courtyard, we split, all of us heading in the directions of our first class. “See you guys at lunch,” I call, as I wave goodbye and stride purposefully in the direction of my first college class.
My British Classics classroom, is almost full by the time I finally get there and I make a bee-line for the first empty seat I spot, sliding into it and pulling my laptop from my backpack to place it on the desk in front of me.
The girl sitting next to me, smiles. “Hi,” she says, her voice squeaking slightly.
“Hi,” I reply, lifting the lid of my laptop and bringing the screen to life.
Her chair makes an awful screeching noise as she pushes it back and pulls a notebook from her bag, then frantically searches for something, piling stuff onto her desk. “Err, is there any chance you have a pen I could borrow? I forgot to switch out my laptop battery and put it on charge last night, even though I left myself a note, so I’m going to have to take actual notes today,” she says, hysterical panic lacing her tone.
“Err yeah,” I say, pulling a pen from my backpack and handing it to her.
“You are a life saver. I’m Avery by the way.”
“Emmy,” I say smiling at her quickly before focusing my attention back on my laptop.
This girl seems nice, if a little disorganized. I’m so used to only being friends with the other Scions, I haven’t made a new friend in years; until Valentine that is. Glancing at the girl at my side, I realize she could potentially be a new friend. I mean she might not be, but I could at least try, right? Do my best to remember that the kids I’m meeting here are nothing like the ones from back home. They don’t know who I am, or who my family are, and any friendships I form are just that, simple offers of friendship with no agenda.
I’ve spent so long wanting to be different, to live a different life, but now I’m faced with a chance to get everything I want, I’m stalling, second guessing myself. It’s time to put my money where my mouth is and step out of my familiar bubble with my familiar friends. Maybe this is the push I need, to actually take hold of my new life with both hands, so I turn to Avery and say. “Are you looking forward to this class? I think the reading list is my favorite of all my classes.”
Avery smiles widely, her shoulders rising as her excitement practically bubbles from her. “I know. Bronte is great, but I can’t wait til we get to Jane Austen. I’ve read all of her books at least a hundred times, but I’m looking forward to reading them again and maybe getting a new perspective on them.”
Before I have a chance to respond, the classroom door flies open and an eccentric looking man strides in, wearing what looks like pajama pants, with sandals, and a button down and tie. “Good morning, class. My name is Professor Allen and together we will be exploring the intricacies of the British Classics, such as Hardy, Austen, and Bronte.”
The room falls silent as the strange looking man talks with such passion about words and stories and books. I’m enthralled and riveted and the next hour is quite possibly the fastest and most interesting one of my life so far. By the time Professor Allen finishes speaking, I no longer care that he looks like he got dressed in the dark. The way he talks about literature is inspiring and I genuinely want to be as cool as him when I grow up.
“That was…” Avery pauses as if she’s trying to find a word that would adequately describe what we both just experienced.
“Exhilarating?” I offer.
“Yes,” she cries animatedly. “I thought I’d enjoy this course, but now I think this is going to be my favorite class this semester.”
“Mine too,” I agree, smiling gleefully.
“What class do you have next?” She asks.
“Err, let me check.” Pulling my schedule from my bag, I scan the timetable for the day. “Art History. You?” I ask as we walk side by side down the stairs of the lecture theater and into the corridor.
“My major is French so I have advanced translation and French business practices, which is basically just a fancy name for how to run a business in French,” she says with a laugh, as we push out of the building and into the bright morning sunshine.
“You’ve picked a major already? It’s only day one,” I gasp, my mouth falling open.
Avery laughs lightly, “My parents own a vineyard. We spend a lot of time in France, so my education is all based on me joining our family business. What building is your class in?”
“Clangham Hall,” I tell her, glancing down at the map I’ve clipped to my schedule in case I get lost.
“Oh, that’s the next building to where my class is, so I can walk that way with you, if that’s okay?”
“Of course,” I say with a smile, pulling my backpack onto both shoulders. “So where are you from originally?”
“California. I miss the beach already,” she says, a misty look flashing across her face. “What about you?”
“Texas.”
“Are you homesick yet?” She asks.
“I wasn’t til I spoke to my parents this morning. I miss them, but I have all my friends here with me.”
“What dorm are you in?”
I pause, wondering if I should admit that I don’t live on campus. It’s not that weird to rent a place rather than live in the dorms, right? I second guess myself again. I want to be just a normal student, but I don’t even know what normal looks like. “Err, I’m not.” I admit, wincing slightly. “We got a house just a few blocks from campus,” I say.
“We?” she asks curiously.
“Me and my four best friends. We all came to Hayhurst together.”
“Wow! I want to say that must be awesome, but five girls in a house honestly sounds like hell,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the sides a little.
I laugh. “Yeah five girls would probably be a nightmare, but I live with one other girl and three guys.”
Avery’s jaw drops so far, I swear I can see her tonsils.
“Emmy,” someone calls from behind me and I turn to find a smiling Zeke jogging toward me.
“Hey,” I say, when he reaches us.
“Hey,” he replies, dropping his arm over my shoulder and smiling rakishly at Avery. “Introduce me to your friend.”
Rolling my eyes, I stab my elbow into his stomach playfully and he laughs. “Zeke, this is Avery, we have British Classics together.” I look to Avery. “Avery, this is Zeke, one of my best friends, my housemate, and general pain in the butt.”
Avery’s smile brightens and she bites her lip as she holds out her hand to Zeke. He takes it and flashes her a panty-melting grin. “Pleasure to meet you, darlin’,” he says, letting his accent thicken as he speaks.
Avery blushes and I elbow Zeke again. “Behave,” I hiss at him.
“Me, I’m always an angel,” he drawls, hamming it up again.
Laughing at his antics, I roll my eyes. “What class do you have?”
“Finance,” he says, his lip curling slightly in displeasure. “How was your first class?”
“It was amazing. The professor is bizarre, but I already know it’s going to be a fascinating course.” I tell him, my excitement from the last hour seeping back in.
“Awesome. Right I gotta go, my class is over there,” he says, pointing to one of the large buildings behind us. “I’ll se
e you at lunch.”
“Okay,” I say. “See you later.”
He pulls me closer to him and drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I whisper.
Then he waves to Avery and darts off towards his class.
“Are you guys…?” Avery asks, her eyes glancing between me and Zeke’s retreating back.
“What?”
“Are you like a thing?”
My eyes widen and I stifle a giggle. “God, no. I’ve known him my entire life. He’s like my brother.”
A small grin forms on her lips. “That man is hot with a capital H.”
It looks like Zeke has a new member of his fan club. When we reach the path that splits off between our two buildings, we exchange numbers and I wave goodbye.
The next week passes in a blur of classes and homework and I love it. College life is amazing and even living with the others isn’t proving as exhausting as I thought it would. I love my friends, but I need more down time than them and surprisingly, none of them moan when I retreat to my room and lose myself in another world or two.
We don’t go to any more frat parties, but the others drag me to a couple of the student bars and we get a chance to use our fake ID’s, much to Nova’s delight.
Avery and I have been chatting through text and today I’m meeting up with her and her roommate for drinks. I thought about inviting Nova to come along, but selfishly I don’t want to share my new friend with her. Everyone loves Nova and I’m sure Avery would be no exception, so I’m keeping her to myself until we know each other a little better.
We’ve arranged to meet outside the library so we can all walk to the bar together and nerves are humming through my veins as I walk across campus. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually made a real girlfriend. Nova and I have known each other since we were born so that doesn’t count and the girls from our elementary and high schools were all her friends who tolerated me.
It’s strange to meet people who genuinely knows nothing about me. Back home, the kids all assumed they knew us, because they knew of our families, of the club, but only the Scions have ever known the real me.
Avery spots me and starts to wave, a bright smile taking over her lips. “Emmy, hey,” she calls, rushing over to me and pulling me in for a hug.
I hug her back, even though I’m not sure we’re at the tactile stage yet. “Hey,” I say as I pull away.
“Come meet Veronica,” she says with a giggle, hooking her arm through mine and walking me back to where a petite girl with rich ebony skin is standing. Her hair is so long it flows down her back almost touching her butt and she’s so gorgeous I almost feel intimidated.
“Emmy this is my roommate Veronica,” she says reaching out to place her hand on Veronica’s arm.
“Hi, Emmy, nice to meet you,” Veronica says, a smile lighting up her face as she does an awkward wave.
“Let’s go get our drink on,” Avery says, tucking her spare arm through Veronica’s and pulling us both in the direction of the bar.
It’s early so we walk straight into the bar and easily find a table. “Shall we share a pitcher?” Avery asks as she searches through her purse for something.
“Sure,” I say and Veronica nods in agreement.
“Cool, I’ll go order at the bar. I’ll get some snacks too, I’m starving.” Avery says once she’s found her wallet and immediately skips away from the table, her blonde ponytail swinging as she walks.
Veronica and I fall into a strained silence and I knot my fingers together in my lap wishing I was better at this. “So, err, are you a freshman too?” I ask.
“No, I’m a sophomore, but I only transferred to Hayhurst this year, so I’m still a newbie.”
“What school did you transfer from?” I ask.
Her smile slips slightly and her eyes crinkle a little at the sides. “NYU.”
“Wow from New York to Hayhurst, this place must feel like the wilderness.”
She laughs and the haunted look I thought I’d seen in her eyes disappears. “This is actually a lot like the town I grew up in, so I don’t mind the slower pace of life. New York was a bit too hectic for me.”
“I considered going to Wilson Hill, but it’s in Duluth and it was the city location that put me off too. I guess you don’t realize how much of a small-town girl you are until it comes down to it.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize how true it is. I might want to find myself, but one weekend in a big city and I was craving small-town living again.
“That’s so true,” Veronica says. “But it was actually my boyfriend that lured me to Hayhurst.”
“Is he a student? Or does he live in Alabama?” I ask.
“He’s a senior; he’s actually my ex-boyfriend now though,” she says ruefully.
“Eeek, you moved schools to be with him, then you broke up? That’s terrible timing,” I say with a wince.
Veronica barks out an unexpected laugh. “Definitely. He hooked up with a girl the day after I moved into the dorms. He’s always been so sweet to me; I had no idea he was such a dog. But it is what it is, I’m here now so I need to make the best of it.”
“Drinks,” Avery singsongs as she appears at our table with a pitcher full of amber colored beer in one hand and a stack of three glasses in the other hand.
After she sits down, she pours us each a glass of beer then lifts hers into the air. “To new friends,” she says cheerily.
I tap my glass against hers, and smile. This is it, this is what I wanted, to be the new Emmy, to make new friends and experience life away from home, away from the shadow of the club and away from the Scions. So why do I wish Nova was here to share this with me?
The library has become my solace. Not that I really need somewhere to hide, but I still enjoy the peaceful silence and homely smell all libraries have: old books and dust.
“Hey.”
“Oh, hey,” I say shyly to the cute guy who appears in front of me, his hands buried in his pockets, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.
“Look, I know this is a huge cliché and it’s probably going to sound like the worst pick-up line ever. But do you remember me? I noticed you sitting over here the other day and by the time I plucked up the courage to come and speak to you, you’d left. I promised myself that If I saw you again, I’d introduce myself and see if you remembered. So hi, I’m Kent.”
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and I glance away, embarrassed and a little confused. Pushing my glasses up my nose, I scan the area of the library I’m sitting in, but other than a couple of people sat studying at the other tables there’s no one else up here.
“I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable. Shit. As I’m guessing you can probably tell, I don’t do this sort of thing very often and apparently, I’m really bad at it. I’m gonna go and hide under a rock for a month or two,” he says, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets and swiveling on the spot.
“I’m Emmy.”
His movement stalls and he twists back to face me again. Straight white teeth appear beneath his growing smile and a faint pink blush coats his cheeks. He gestures to the seat opposite me. “Can I join you?”
I pause for a moment. “Tell me why I should remember you first.”
His cheeks get even redder. “Ah, err, we met at the freshman fair. I was giving out book tokens,” he says, cringing slightly.
I nod slowly, narrowing my eyes as I stare at him. He does seem a little familiar. “Yes,” I cry pointing at him, “you were wearing a bowtie.” I don’t tell him that the only reason I remember his bowtie is because I’d never seen anyone apart from a clown at the circus wear one. “I actually think I lost the token though which is shocking considering I’m a total bookworm,” I confess, smiling shyly.
He hurriedly pulls out the chair, wincing when the legs squeal as they drag along the floor. Sliding off his backpack, he lowers himself into the seat and I take a moment to allow my eyes to look him over. His frame is slim and lean, but not
too skinny. His skin is a little pale considering Alabama is hot as hell, and his hair is neatly styled and a dark auburn color. Beige khakis cover his slim legs and I can see a glimpse of a tan leather belt at his waist. His white button down is perfectly pressed, the top button undone, and he’s sporting a pink tie, knotted loosely at his neck. He’s cute in a preppy, Young Republican kind of way.
We fall into an awkward, stilted silence and I stare at him, expecting him to speak.
“What class are you studying for?” He asks, after what feels like forever.
“Creative Writing.”
“Oh, I was hoping you were going to say something math related, then I could have offered to help. Words aren’t exactly my forte,” Kent says, blushing adorably.
“That’s okay, they’re my thing. Words, I mean.” The moment the words are out of my mouth I realize how stupid I sound, and my gaze falls to my laptop and the books in front of me.
“I like numbers.” Kent declares, a little too enthusiastically.
Lifting my hands onto the edge of the table, I fidget, unsure what else to say. The boys at my high school rarely spoke to me. Sometimes I’d catch them looking, but they never spoke, and I’m not sure if that’s because they were terrified of my family, or because I was standing next to my stunningly beautiful best friend.
“I’m sorry,” Kent says again.
“What for?”
“Because I really want to be smooth and confident and that’s obviously not going well, when all I can think to say is, ‘I like numbers’,” Kent says, cringing.
“I think I might have started it when I declared that ‘words were my thing’,” I giggle.
Kent flashes me that sweet smile again and I find myself smiling back at him, unable to resist responding to his animated expression.
Lifting his hand from beneath the table, he thrusts it forward toward me. “Hi, I’m Kent. I think you’re stunning, and I’d really like to take you out sometime.”
I giggle again. Wow, I wouldn’t have said a guy could ever turn me into a giggler. Biting down on my bottom lip with my teeth, I reach out and take his hand, smiling when he wraps his fingers around mine. “Hi, Kent. I’m Emmy and I’d like that.”