“It’s just me here now, but I’ll let them know you stopped by,” I tell her while keeping my stance firm in the doorway.
“Oh yes, you do that, dear. Tell them I said welcome to the neighborhood.” She smiles at me again and shuffles down the steps then across the paver stones to a little gap in the hedges that takes her over to her own driveway. Whoever used to live here must have been very friendly with her family. I hope she’s not too terribly disappointed with me as a neighbor, but I don’t plan on inviting her over for tea anytime soon.
After closing the door, I turn the locks and head back to the kitchen. I need a drink, but at least I’ve cooled down enough so I don’t feel the need to strip out of my clothes. I can wait until I get upstairs when I call Mom to let her know how today went for that.
* * *
I’m aboutto walk to my first college class, and I’m actually excited to see other people, even if I have no intention of talking to anyone. I thought I was used to being alone and that it wouldn’t be a big change, but that was before I realized all the little interactions I took for granted, like speaking to Beth, the house manager, in the morning when I would make coffee, or John, my parents’ longtime gardener, when I was outside. Then, there was knowing Mom was usually around somewhere if I wanted to talk.
It’s not until I’m standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change, when I allow the nerves that are making my stomach cramp to get to me. I’ve been pretty good at pretending this is no big deal, though my jittery hand would beg to differ.
My first class of the day is English. I wanted something I was comfortable with, unlike math, to get my week started. I wish I could skip math altogether, but I can’t, so it’s my second Monday and Wednesday class. At least I only have two classes today. Tuesday and Thursday I’ll have three, but I was lucky enough to keep most of my Fridays clear this semester, besides a few discussion classes.
The signpost for the crosswalk beeps, alerting me and the other students waiting to cross it’s time to go. I shuffle into the back of the group, not in too big of a hurry since it’s only half past nine. Everyone around me is either still half asleep or too absorbed in their own worlds to engage with each other, but I prefer it that way. I would probably stutter if I tried to speak with anyone at this point.
The group splits into different directions after we cross the street. I head down the path that will take me to Angell Hall. I spent Sunday walking around a little, making sure I knew where all my classes were. Why did it feel so much easier to navigate yesterday?
Once I’m in the building, a sense of relief washes over me. There are several other students standing around much like myself. I find a corner and pull out my phone, pretending I have someone to talk to just so I have an excuse to keep my head down.
A short time later, the door to room 113 is pushed open from the inside and a tall, thin woman leans against the wood, waving us in. “First day every year, I say I’m going to remember to prop the door,” she mutters to herself as we filter past, then announces, “Have a seat,” much louder.
The room is massive. I’ve been to concert venues smaller than this. While everyone is taking seats in the middle aisle, I walk along the back wall and select an outside seat about halfway down toward the stage. I like knowing I can get out fast if I need to.
It’s not long before the seats around me begin to fill in, and I have to tuck my bag between my feet so it doesn’t get stepped on by the students heading deeper into my row.
The woman who opened the door for us is down by a lectern, sorting some papers. She doesn’t look up or acknowledge the class at all for several long minutes. Once she does, most of the seats are full and it’s a quarter past ten. “In the spirit of goodwill on the first day, I like to give a few extra minutes for everyone to find their way. On Wednesday, I expect all of you to be here promptly before class so I don’t have to wait.”
She takes a long look around the room. “Welcome to English 125, I’m Professor Hilbrand—just Hilbrand is fine. If you are not in the right place, I suggest you figure it out quickly.”
There are some small chuckles, but everyone stays seated.
“Today, we’ll go over the syllabus, discuss expectations, and I’ll introduce you to my teaching assistant, who will be handling the majority of the lectures.” She gestures to the front left, and my eyes follow her movement, but I have no idea whom she’s looking at. “I trust all of you are familiar with your school email. That is where you’ll find your copy of the syllabus and our contact info, as well as my and Gravlin’s hours. If you…” The rest of what she says gets lost after I hear the name Gravlin. It’s an unusual name, and one I was hoping to avoid. What kind of luck do I have if I have to run into the one person I didn’t want to in a school of forty-four thousand, and on my first day no less? Thank goodness he will have no idea who I am.
It takes me a few seconds to reengage with what’s happening around me, but thankfully, everyone opening up their computers pulls me out of my own head enough to push the thoughts of my embarrassment to the back of my mind.
Hilbrand goes over the course and talks about the importance of critical thinking when it comes to writing before she sinks into a short lecture about our first assignment and how it will be graded.
As she winds down, I sink lower in my seat. I know what’s coming next, especially when Gravlin stands up and turns to face the classroom. There are over four hundred students in here, so it would be hard for him to spot me, even if he knew who he was looking for, but my rational brain can’t convince the other half of me of the truth in that statement.
“As promised, I’d like to introduce my TA, Gravlin. He has a busy schedule, so he will not be running a study group. However, you can check out the class message boards, where I’m sure you’ll be able to get a group together easily enough.
“We will both be available during posted hours for drop-ins and scheduled appointments. If you think you will need a tutor, I suggest you sign up quickly. Otherwise, you can avail yourselves of the peer led tutoring in the library. Gravlin.” She motions to the guy standing up in the front row.
I try really hard not to look at him, but it’s impossible, especially when I hear the students murmuring around me. I already know from Mia’s response he’s attractive, but I’m not prepared for just how striking he is. Tall with wide shoulders and short dark hair, Gravlin could rival most of Hollywood’s young elite. His chiseled jaw is set tightly, making his high cheekbones seem more prominent. He’s too far away for me to discern his eye color, but it wouldn’t even matter, because I’m sure they match the rest of him.
His lips are pressed together rather tightly before he finally opens his mouth to speak. I don’t know if everyone else can hear the annoyance in his tone or if it’s just me reading too much into his demeanor and facial expression. “Please familiarize yourself with the contact form. That is the only way to reach me. I try to answer emails promptly. Drop-ins will be limited to fifteen minutes, so if you need longer, you need to make an appointment. Any questions?” Something about his voice is familiar, but I can’t place it.
“What are the rules on dating the TA?”
I snap my head to the left to search for the girl fearless enough to shout out that question. My mouth is probably hanging open, along with half the class’s.
“You’ll find all the fraternization policies listed on the school website, but since you seem to be fine calling out Mr. Gravlin, I’ll do the same to you. Students may not be romantically involved with TAs from the classes for which they are enrolled, however, you won’t have a shot next semester either. Anyrealquestions?” Hilbrand asks the rest of the class, most of which are wincing and making pain-filled utterances for the bold girl.
I sink even lower in my seat. The secondhand embarrassment is real.
“Challenge accepted,” the girl states with a confidence I couldn’t manage when picking my meal for lunch.
I peer to the side again to see she’s staring right at Gravlin. If I thought he looked annoyed before, he looks disgusted now, or maybe that’s just my misplaced indignation for him. Shit like this would not be tolerated if he were a girl, not out in the open like this. I’m glad Hilbrand called her out, but it seems like it might have just spurred her on.
