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Newspapers are full of important ideas, opinions, and of course news (and sometimes a good story). That is exactly what she intended to give…a good story. The sun rose right before she did that morning. It was just coming over the mountain and was shimmering a bright red. She felt giddy and excited, because the possibilities for her life all lay waiting in this day.
It was a first. It could have been any first, but the feeling was the same; the first day of junior high, the first day on a new job, or a first date. That vague feeling of apprehension, creeping up, seemed something akin to butterflies in her stomach, but most times she felt indifferent. Excited and overwhelmed, those feelings had been coming and going in waves. “You’ll be great Rory,” her mother assured her. “Jesus, what am I five years old again? Stop worrying.” She thought to herself.
As she made the quick drive to school, her giddiness turned to a sharp pain, and by the time she approached the doors it turned to nausea. Did she drink too much coffee? Did she have a Red Bull too? Maybe she over did it. She still had some time to kill before class. Maybe just one more cup wouldn’t hurt.
After paying the barista for the delicious smelling, hot coffee, she thoughtit might do her good to walk around abit and relax. All of a sudden a deafeningnoise was coming from somewheredeep inside her black hole of a purse. “Shit!” Of course her hands were full and her cell continued to belt out the loudest version of Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer’ she had ever heard. “Peeerfect”. She started to make a bee line for a table she could set her things on, but fate or her oversized flip flops had something else in mind as she plowed right into a scrawny boy and his rolling backpack.
As her limbs all flailed out in different directions and her scorching hot coffee flew through the air, she wondered silently why it seemed to be taking so long to come back down. As time sped up again, she managed to tuck and roll. The boy screamed. My coffee hadlanded. “I-I-I’m so sorry!”. She tried to help him up, but he was flailing about like a fish out of water, or a turtle stuck on its back. From the look on his face she gathered that her heart felt apology must not have sounded so heart felt. She gathered her things from the floor and slowly stood up, making a mental note to never wear those flip flops again. She silently cursed her usual graceful way, and started wandering the halls.
After all this excitement she still had some spare time on her hands. It felt like everyone was staring. She figured she had something ridiculous stamped on her forehead. Now, she was lost, bored and nervous. She found a seat and prayed for a quick death. After people watching for what seemed like hours but turned out to be two minutes and forty-five seconds her phone began to ring. Thank god! Something to concentrate on.
It was Clodagh. She was here, her best friend, a familiar face. “Where are you? You’re going to die when I tell you what I just did! Okay, okay I’ll meet you by the bookstore, bye!” She carefully maneuvered her over sized flip flops down the stairs. Visions of another grand and more painful entrance flashed through her head. ‘Oh well,’ she thought to herself, ‘what’s a normal day without some unplanned, public acrobatics.’ She sat down with her friend and explained her mornings adventure to Clodagh, who wouldn’t stop laughing. Clodagh found this not only extremely hilarious but she also said that it would make a great audition tape for SNL. “Oh! Clodagh, I gotta go, I’m going to be late for my first class, call me later!”
Rory’s search for her classroom was rigorous; she’d been walking up and down the same hallway for five minutes, “Are you lost dear?” Rory turned to find a kind looking elderly woman staring at her. “Oh uh-yes, I’m looking for 2401?” “Oh right there sweetie” Pointing to the door Rory had just walked past about ten times, she felt herself turning red. “Thank you” she said sheepishly. Opening the door with hesitance, she slowly walked in, looking around she spotted a few other people scattered around the room. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “So this is what Psychology’s going to be like”, she mumbled to herself. After some time had passed more people started arriving. The teacher was the last. He introduced himself, and began to tell them what the course would entail. She knew the room was cold but she could feel herself sweating. Gross, is it even normal to sweat this much? Probably questions for another occasion.
Ten minutes before class was over, the teacher “suggested” they read chapters 1-3 that night. Great, homework already. She started feeling more and more nostalgic as the day grew longer, class finally came to an end, and relief washed over her. College is what she wants, and it was all she could seem to talk about over the summer, so what was her problem now? She was just letting everything get the best her. “Class is going to be fun”, she silently re-assured herself. “It will be fine; relax, go find more coffee.” Actually coffee sounded great right now, especially since her first cup was wasted on mobile back pack boy, she didn’t even think to ask him his name, but considering the circumstances, it was probably best that she didn’t. She got in line behind a few people and patiently waited for the coffee she was craving, “Hmm, back again for more are we?” the woman at the register asked, “Yes, I only like coffee with my oxygen” she proudly stated.
She once again had her coffee in hand and was determined to make it to a table accident free. She sat and sipped on her coffee, watching all the people pass her by; wondering if any had noticed her from the incident earlier that morning. It did wreak quite a bit of havoc. It was probably time for her next class, she made her way back up the stairs and this time found her room with less difficulty than the last time. This isn’t going to be so bad after all, she thought. As she entered the room the professor turned to greet her. Rory noticed a large brown stain covering most of his white button down shirt, thinking this couldn’t possibly be happening she then noticed his roller back pack, sitting in the corner of the room with coffee stains all over it also. Apparently the “scrawny, boy” she bumped into wasn’t so much of a boy, in fact he was her professor. Looking down at her over his glasses that had slid to the very end of his nose, she could’ve sworn she heard the words “You again…” being muttered under his breath. Rory found the first seat she saw, behind some kid with an enormous head, and even bigger curly hair. Well at least she’d be hidden. She was contemplating if anyone would notice if she made a move for the door, on her way out she’d yell “never mind” over her shoulder. Then came that sudden deafening again; “Who could it possibly be this time?” She couldn’t find her phone, everyone was staring now. “Rory…Rory!” Was that her mother calling her name? Her alarm clock was blaring; it was 5:45 am; the first day of college. |END
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