I race forward and yank the door to the lecture hall open. The professor has already started, his voice booming through the room. To keep from disturbing anyone, I slowly close the door behind me, being careful not to make a sound.
But fate has other plans, because while I manage to quietly close the door, the strap on my old book bag snaps and all of my things fall loudly to the floor.
And who said people aren’t born unlucky?
The room stills, the only sound to be heard that of students twisting in their seats to see what or who caused the commotion.
Me, that’s who. So much for keeping a low profile.
“You’re late,” the physics professor says after what feels like forever.
In reality, it’s been mere seconds, but with all eyes on me, it seems much longer.
I bend down to collect my things, my breathing still ragged. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s my first day, and I couldn’t find—”
“I don’t care,” he says with a huff.
“Right,” I mutter while collecting the last item and standing upright.
“Just take a seat and try not to be late again.”
I nod, though I’m sure he doesn’t see it as his attention has gone back to the front of the class. The students are still staring, and of course I can feel every pair of eyes on me, but it isn’t until now that I notice just how many.
Then, like clockwork, the dirty looks come, followed by mean jokes and sharp jabs. People size me up, taking note of my non-brand clothes, the Adidas hoodie that is well worn, my outdated sneakers, and the large backpack. By now, this is par for the course around here.
I’ve been on campus for less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve had several people walk directly into me, as if I am just invisible. Not to mention being threatened by the hockey player in the advisory office earlier.
“Eww. What is she wearing?” one girl says to the person beside her. Her voice is low, and she probably thinks no one can hear her except her friend, but she’s wrong.
I hear it all.
“How embarrassing!” another person says.
“She must be one of the new scholarship kids,” goes someone a few rows up.
“They could have helped her with some new clothes at least,” a girl says, followed by laughter from those around her.
Anger bubbles in my chest, and it takes everything in me not to lash out and tell each and every last one of them where they can shove it. Doing that would only draw more unwanted attention, and I’ll be labeled as the poorand angryBlack girl.
So instead, I still my emotions, mentally reminding myself why I’m here. This is all for Desmond.
Just two and a half years. Then, I’ll graduate with endorsements that will set me and Desmond on the right path. Yes, I could have stayed at the junior college or gotten a minimum wage job, but it wouldn’t be enough to prove to a judge that Desmond would be better off with me instead of his father.
This is the lesser of two evils in the grand scheme of what’s important to me. So, if I have to deal with a few stares from some stuck-up rich kids, so be it.
Besides, none of this surprises me, anyway. I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted the scholarship. I guess I never quite realized how overwhelming it was to be in a cesspool of elitist pricks.
But as long as I keep my head down, nothing will distract me from the goal.
Even Everest…
Nearly every person besides Gracie has treated me like some outcast so far. Yet, for some reason, the reaction Everest had when our eyes met in the courtyard continues to sting.
I finally settle in the seat closest to me. It’s only two rows away from the exit—perfect for getting out of here as soon as the lecture ends. The quicker I get out of this class, the quicker I can put the embarrassment behind me. Out of sight, out of mind. Eventually, the stares will fade if I keep to myself, do my work,and stay out of the way. Something shinier will come along, and their focus will shift.
I realize that’s going to be easier said than done with this particular class. I recognize the group of girls Gracie warned me about. Christina and her little crew are sitting two rows up on the other side of the aisle, not bothering to hold in their snickers.
I may have been dealt a shitty hand in life, but the last thing I’ll do is give those plastic Barbies the satisfaction of knowing they’re getting to me. So I do the next best thing and zero in on Professor Wilson. Except my plan fails miserably because my focus lands on another student. He’s just a row up, on the other side of the aisle.
