I don’t know much about Debbie, but I only know that she was running late for an 8 am class that she had. I didn’t even hear her come in last night, I must have been dead asleep.
“Crap!” I heard her say. Debbie was starting to panic, rushing clothes together and books being shoved into her canvas bag. “I am so late.”
“Why did you take an 8 am class?” I asked.
“Because I hate myself, that’s why.”
I laughed. “Should have taken a 10 am class.”
“Meh,” she shrugged. “Oh, you and I have dates.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I was talking to this one guy, and he and his buddy wanted to go out this Saturday.”
“Wait, who?”
“His name is . . . Chad . . . I think, who knows. He’s cute.”
“Wait, we just started our semester, I don’t know who he is-“
She stopped rushing around for a second. “Look, I know the type of person you are. And the way your mother is around you, I can tell you haven’t had much going out and about. And this guy is super cute, so please just pretend to like his friend Saturday?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, uncovering myself from the bed.
“Great, it’s a date,” she said rushing out.
“It’s not a-“
She slammed the door. She didn’t hear me, nor do I think she really even try to hear me. I barely knew anyone, and now I was going on a date with someone that doesn’t even know what I look like. I didn’t even know what this maybe Chad guy looked like either.
It was hard to be into this social thing when I didn’t have much of it. I went to a very small rural school where everyone knew each other and their moms. I only finished with a class of twenty kids. They accepted that I didn’t really talk, and still included me in. Because, in the small rural town I grew up in, you can’t really be bullying a lot of kids, because then you will have no one to hang out with.
Now, it was thousands of students, and I wasn’t sure how to handle that.
I got up, grabbed my towel, and ran to the shower rooms. I came back after I was done, and searched through my closet for outfits. I didn’t have much. Two pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts. I just grabbed the one that wasn’t that wrinkle and called it good.
It was all you can do sometimes.
I checked my phone. Mom had texted me again this morning. I called her last night, but I didn’t tell her about H. She would ask too many questions.
Besides, it was a nice feeling having something for myself and not having to share.
Hey honey, are you awake?
Steffi, have you gone to class yet?
I love you sugar plum tree, please answer me.
I sighed. She was always like this, and I knew it was going to be worse when I moved out. I tried putting the phone down, but I heard my mother’s voice in my head yelling at me if I didn’t text her back.
I just texted back:
Going to class now, I love you
Disappointment grew on me when I realized H hadn’t text me. Maybe he forgot all about me? It was okay if he did. It was just nice talking to someone that seemed to have a brain.
Around 9, I decided to walk to my first class, despite it being another hour away. It was English 1A, and I have already read all the books for the semester over the summer. Mom and I never owned a TV in our home. We’ve rarely even watched movies.
I can count all the movies we’ve watch together on one hand. It’s just something we don’t do. Mom and I were very close with I was little. I never knew my father, but she seemed to be strong without him. I never really cared to know who he was.
Mom would plant flowers in the garden with me. It was always my very memory.
The phone went off. I looked down, and didn’t know the number.
Hello, Persephone. I just wanted to let you know I didn’t forget about you.
My heart jumped. It was H.
My fingers twitched. What should I even say to him?
Hello H, it’s good to hear from you
Lol
I regretted the LOL part as soon as I sent it, but I felt like I had to throw that in there, to make it less tense with him. I went on walking to my class, feeling myself working up a sweat. It sure wasn’t the weather.
When I got to the class, some people were standing outside too. I didn’t feel like a total dork than, watching other nervous freshmen like me. Some were reading, some were talking, I was glued to my phone.
I usually wasn’t like that. I wasn’t allowed to have a phone until I turned 18, and even then, I was so used to not having one, I didn’t become attended like the other kids my age. But I just wanted to hear, or read, what he had to say.
I felt that nervous butterfly feeling in my stomach, feeling like I wanted to throw up. Was I nervous?
Maybe. It would explain why I wanted to pass out.
My phone rang again, and I checked. It was my mother, sending me a smiley face. I sighed. A part of me is still shocked that she let me actually go to college. She was always clingy, but the last few years were the worse, though I can’t say I didn’t blame her.
She was scared to lose me.
I was scared I wasn’t going to lose myself too.
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