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The College Years (Chapter 4)
By Vader
THE COLLEGE YEARS
Entry I: The Beginning
Continued from Chapter 3 . . .
CHAPTER 4
It was 4:30 AM, September 3rd. I had a wonderful night’s sleep under all of my covers, bundled up, feeling completely comfortable and content. There was probably a soft smile on my face, simply due to the fact that yesterday couldn’t have ended better, with Rachel reassuring me for the last time before I would embark on a trek known as college.
Little did I know that lurking in the shadows of my room was a little thing that had returned, waiting for just the right moment to strike. A very shaky, disjointed, and abrupt noise sputtered forth from my trashcan, progressively raising in its repetition and pitch. My eyes flashed open, and my eyebrows lowered.
In the next minute, I’d emptied my trashcan to find my old alarm clock still having some twisted life left in it, and sent it to clock afterlife with one whack of a hammer. Just to be safe, I threw it into the trash bin outside, only to see a stray dog come up and tear it to shreds a moment later.
Well, I was now wide awake an entire half hour before I had to be. I made an effort to get back to sleep, cuddling under my sheets, but was unable to shut an eye lid. Giving up, I decided to grab my towel and get in the shower early, only finding dread about the oncoming day creeping into the back of my mind under the steaming hot water. After drying up and putting on a new pair of clothes, I poured myself a bowl of Raisin Bran and ate it alone. The darkness outside started to turn into hues of deep blue, signaling the returning of the sun, and symbolizing my new journey I was forced to begin.
It wasn’t long before my parents got up. My father, his messy hair and incredibly sleepy eyes making him look rather homeless, futzed around until he felt more awake, and then started some coffee, getting in the shower himself.
The next thing I knew, we sat in the parking lot at Mesa College. The seemingly menacing appearance of courtyard hadn’t changed since I’d first met with the councilor. I stared warily at the flight of stairs I would climb to reach my classes, which had a sort of glow at the top of it from the new morning.
“Hey, Jack,” my father said as I opened the door and got out, my backpack and books in hand, “Good luck, today buddy.” His warmly stated well wishes were comforting in only a tiny sense, for now that the time had actually come to go to the classes, I was feeling the worst I ever had.
Still, I said, “Thanks, Dad . . . I appreciate it.” He probably knew he hadn’t really helped, but I was genuine in my thanks. At this point, it seemed nothing could uplift my spirits.
And so I closed the door, I turned around, slung my backpack over my shoulders and set my right foot on the very first step of the staircase. One by one, I made my way up the steps, finding myself counting each. It was an eternity before I actually reached the very top, and once doing so, I closed my eyes tightly, inhaling deeply, holding it for just a moment, and then exhaling in a slow manner.
Upon opening my eyes I saw an utterly lush campus, with bunkers and classrooms entangled along with tall birch and oak trees in fields of newly grown grass, sectioned off to provide leave-covered walkways for the students – all of it surrounded in a shroud of mist. I felt like I’d stepped into a painting – no, more like a dream - something that was totally separate from the rest of the world below, and a wholly realized other place. I slowly moved forward, unsure of myself, feeling like a baby first learning to walk.
I stopped underneath the beautiful plants that had begun their process of changing into autumn colors of tan, brown, orange, and red, pulling out my map of the area and locating the classroom in which my first class was set to take place - Algebra. My eyes scanned, locating I-214. I stuffed my map back into my pocket and traveled through a small park at the core of the campus. None of the students seemed to notice me, as if I didn’t exist, and was floating through this place like a ghost.
Once outside of my classroom, I felt nervous and unwilling. I tried to focus on the things Rachel had told me before, but it was as if it didn’t work anymore. I was truly on my own, with nobody to help me out but myself. I breathed deep, and then entered.
Most of the class was already seated in the rows that faced the teacher’s desk and blackboard, some of them talking, some of them sifting through their books. I gulped, shakily finding a seat near the center of the room. After staring straight down for about five minutes (my classmates must have thought I was studying the grain patterns in my wooden desk) someone from behind leaned forward and spoke to me. “You’re a little young to be here aren’t you?” I was thrown off guard, and had no idea how to reply.
“Wh- . . . what makes you think that?” I stuttered, to afraid to turn around.
“You’re quiet.” He was a smart one alright.
“So . . . so being quiet makes me look younger?” I was doing my best to avoid actually giving him my age.
“I’m just guessing.” After another second, he sharply said, “Turn around, boy, you think I want to talk to you like a gay dude whispering in your ear?”
Jarred, I immediately spun around to see a hugely muscular African American glaring at me. “That’s better. I’m Emanuel. What’s up?” He shook my hand, having a grip like a vice.
“I’m Jack.”
“This your first year here?”
“Um . . . yeah.”
“Fresh out a high school, huh chump?” For a second I thought he was going to rib me, but next he unexpectedly broke out into a thunderous laugh. “You need to calm down, dude.”
“I guess so,” I sounded more timidly than I wanted to be.
“This is my friend, Louis!” Emanuel introduced me to a Hispanic guy that sat in the row next to him, pointing with his thumb. “He’s a smartass!” Louis began to laugh just as hard as Immanuel had done before, but he was quieter in doing so. “That’s right!”
While I was still shocked someone had accepted me so quickly, the teacher entered the room, carrying a mound of books. She looked to be in her late 50’s, having grey hair that extended to her shoulders, wearing quirky, thinly-rimmed glasses. After licking her thumb, she went through a pile of papers she’d just set down on the table and pulled out a role-call sheet. “Hello, class. My name is Dr. Meckstroff,” she announced with a corky kind of voice, writing out her identity on the blackboard behind her. “I hope this semester will be a pleasant one. I intend to teach, and I hope you are all willing to learn. Ok, let’s begin role.” She read the paper for just a second, and then called out a name, “Jocelyn?”
“Here,” came a feminine voice from beside me. I turned to see a girl that looked about eight-teen, with brown hair, very cute looking, bearing a striking resemblance to Natalie Portman. Just as I had looked, someone from behind her scooted up and whispered into her ear.
“That’s a pretty name,” he grinned, bearing rigid teeth, having a pale complexion, a shaved head, and a thin, yet well toned structure. He appeared to be the same age as her, and his intentions were completely obvious.
“Thank you,” she whispered back, with a small grin.
“I’m Scott. Nice to meet you.” With each passing second he was bringing himself closer to her ear. “You smell . . . wonderful.” I watched with amusement at this unfolding.
“That’s sweet of you.”
“Jack!” called the teacher, startling me.
“Oh, I’m right here!” She nodded, checking off my name. Within the next couple minutes everyone had their names called. Class began, with us starting off by doing multiplication of integers. However, it didn’t put an end to the obnoxious flirting of the young man that acted as if he’d just gotten pubes. I was unable to concentrate, since he was progressively becoming louder, and the teacher didn’t seem to take notice.
“Is this guy annoying or what? Jeez!” Emanuel whispered. I shook my head in agreement and finally decided to do something about it.
I leaned towards this Scott kid and said, “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but would you mind being just a little more quiet . . . please?” making an effort to be polite.
“You shut the hell up, punk!” Scott abrupty whispered back, nearly cutting off the end of my sentance. “You can’t have her.”
“What?” The fact that this kid actually felt threatened by me, just because I asked him a favor, proved his idiocy. “No, no, listen . . .”
“Quiet!” said Dr. Meckstroff. Oh, perfect – the moment I get involved, I get blamed. Scott just snickered.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of this tomorrow,” Emanuel told me, patting me on the shoulder, but unintentionally made it feel more like a punch. I had no idea what he meant by that, but it was the least of my worries once our teacher began to write down an unbelievable load of homework for us to accomplish overnight.
(More to come . . .)
12/13/2002 6:58:09 PM
(Updated: 12/13/2002 7:06:29 PM)
(Updated: 12/13/2002 11:50:18 PM)
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