CHAPTER 15: DAY TWO
My first class of the day is Computer Science with Professor Kelly in room 101. The classroom is filled with black monitors and long tables. I’m the first to enter class and greet this short woman with straight dark hair, red lipstick, and round glasses. Five minutes later, the class begins. We spent the entire class introducing ourselves and talking about the class’s grading system. My next class, The Science of Philosophy with Professor Cruz, is immediately after.
My schedule only consists of words and numbers, so I try to make a mental picture of the teachers before I meet them. Professor Cruz is definitely not what I expected. In my mind, I was picturing a Spanish woman with olive skin and a broken accent. Instead, I see a gracefully aged African woman with long ropes for hair. She is wearing red African attire from head to toe.
“Greetings to all,” she says to her students with a prominent African accent as we enter the classroom.
“Hi,” I reply modestly as I walk pass her, breathing in a strong scent of peppermint as I head into class.
One by one, she greets each individual student until all of the seats are filled. This class has to be one of the smallest ones I’ve been in so far. That doesn’t bother me a bit though. I prefer the smaller classrooms with less students. I feel like I can learn better in here.
Professor Cruz takes center stage with her brown cheeks swelling as she smiles at the entire class. Unlike Grant’s class, which is more like a miniature stadium, we’re given an up, close, and personal lecture.
“Greetings young minds. With a show of hands, who actually wanted this class? Let’s be honest.”
She surveys everyone’s face while she waits for a response.
“Don’t answer all at once,” she says with sarcasm.
Everyone looks around at each other, unsure if they want to be honest with the Professor. My hand goes into the air along with two others out of the entire class.
“Well, at least that’s more than my last class,” she says with enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, although you don’t want to be here, by the end of this semester, you’ll be glad you attended. Why did you want to take this class, if you don’t mind me asking?”
A male student shrugs his shoulders and reply…
“Easy credits “
“Well, it is. And to be honest, this is the first class like this in the country because I’m teaching it. Here I will teach you how to open your eyes and see the world in different perspectives.”
She then turns and walks to the board and writes the word Philosophy in bold letters. She then writes down the words “metaphors that teaches anyone” and turns to the class again.
“Philosophy is a word everyone hear often but most don’t understand it. In a way, Philosophy is metaphors that teaches anyone about the universe. It’s like the science behind wisdom. Once in a while there’s a person that understands things that challenges the principles of reality. Sometimes people get knowledge elsewhere.”
She then writes down the words “Higher dimensional knowledge” on the board.
“Some people inquire knowledge beyond the 3rd dimension. Our current language doesn’t have all of the words to explain this knowledge, so, the universe gives us these interpreters. They call these people, Philosophers. Others call them prophets. Is anyone brave enough to give more emphasis on this?”
My hand shoots into the air along with two others.
“Yes, you there,” she calls on me.
“An example would be a fairytale. Like if a person would ask me the meaning of life and I give them a fairytale to read. They contain a main character, which represents good. They also have a villain or something that would challenge that good. It also teaches karma. Most importantly, it teaches about a happily ever after. And that’s what we all want, to have a happily ever after. It’s a way to condense things so anyone would understand, even a child.”
The whole entire class is silent. Professor Cruz stares at me for a moment before smiling brightly.
“Yes, that’s beautifully put. That is actually a perfect answer. Thank you for that wonderful response. With that being said, philosophy helps us understand the unknown, or in other words, the not yet known.”
The class is only an hour long. After class, I stay behind to congratulate Professor Cruz on a wonderful lecture. I approach her without her noticing me. Her back is facing me as I approach her, erasing what we just learned from the chalkboard.
“Professor Cruz?” I call out to her modestly and she rotates to face me.
She turns to me, flinches mildly, and lets out a giggle when she realized she flinched for no reason.
“You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought everyone left the room. And please, you don’t have to call me Professor,” she tells me. “There are no wizards in this school. People don’t use that term much anymore.”
“Sorry. I just wanted to say how much I loved your lecture today.”
“Thank you. It’s good to know that I’m keeping someone awake. By the way, that was a good analogy you gave the class. Who taught you that?” she asks while she gathers papers and stack them neatly into her briefcase.
“I just thought about it. I think about a lot of stuff.”
She takes a moment to stare into my eyes as if she’s trying to read me.
“What is your name again?”
“Iva…Iva Hill,” I reply.
“I never met an Iva before. Any who, it’s nice to meet you, but unfortunately I have to run. Don’t stop thinking like that. This class needs more minds like yours. See you next class.”
“See ya later.”
We both leave the room and go our separate ways. I have to admit, she may give Professor Grant a run for his money. She’s a very interesting and majestic woman. It’s something oddly mystical and mysterious about her, I don’t know why. My thoughts of her leave my head as I head over to the student lounge to grab a bite to eat.
Shortly after eating a slice of pizza, it’s time to find my General Biology class. I have to give out a couple of apologies as I hurry to class. I should’ve seen this one coming, but I’m too much in a rush to avoid it.
“I’m so sorry. I truly am,” I say as I bump into a girl, which causes her notebook to fall onto the floor.
I freeze where I stand, and I think my heart did also. I’m staring into the eyes of a pale blonde girl. Her face is expressionless. Next to her is Kendrick. This girl must be his sister, Arlene, who I heard about over the dinner table with my uncle. Why am I so unlucky?
“Hi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you,” I say with a shaky voice.
Using only her eyes, she scans me from head to toe without unblinking.
“What’s your name?” she says in a void voice.
“Iva,” I reply timidly.
“Are you going to pick my shit up Iva, or are you going to just stand there?”
My heart drops to my stomach the more she speaks to me. My blood is pumping in my body so hard right now that I’m starting to sweat. I kneel down and retrieve her fallen notebook. Her eyes follow me to the floor and when I rise, but her body remains statue-like.
“Sorry again,” I say nervously.
Slowly but surely she takes the notebook from my hands without blinking once. She tucks her notebook under her armpit as she gazes at me with her wide, soulless, eyes. This is torture. I don’t know why. I’m very intimidated by her.
It’s like I’m shrinking the more she stares at me. What’s worse is the fact that I have to look up at her.
“Iva,” she calls my name in a blank tone. “If you touch me like that again, your family will have to use a fucking shovel to remove your face from the floor. I’m talking about full-on reconstructive surgery on your ass. Got it bitch?”
I nod franticly. She looks over at her brother.
“I didn’t hear her, did you?” she asks her brother.
“Nope,” Kendrick replies.
“Bitch, acknowledge me when I speak to you,” she snaps at me. “Do you understand me or not? Or do you want to get fucked-up right here? Because I’ve been dying to hurt something.”
“Yes, I understand. It won’t happen again,” I say while holding my notebook tightly with a sweaty grip.
I look at Kendrick and I realize his face is just as lifeless as hers. Suddenly, he starts to stroll toward me slowly. Automatically, as he gets closer to me, I back away from him until my back hits a locker. I grip my notebook even tighter.
“Don’t look at me,” he tells me aggressively.
I hear his sister snickering behind him as he orders me to look away. I swallow down hard and shift my eyes at the glossy floor tiles below me. I feel unbelievably defenseless. Kendrick observes left and right down the hallway for anyone who could be watching him harass me. He notices a boy walking down the hallway, looking at us as he passes by.
“What are you looking at?” Kendrick asks the boy fiercely.
The boy quickly turns away and increases his speed down the hallway, and then he disappears around the corner. Kendrick then shifts back to me once more.
“You’re new around here. I can tell,” he whispers to me. “You better find out who we are. We own this school. We’ll take it easy on you now, but next time…” he says and stops speaking all of a sudden.
Something or someone has caught his attention. For the first time, I see another emotion in their face instead of anger. I see fear in their eyes.
“You may think you own this school, but you sure as hell don’t own me.”
I look to my left, and behold, I see Daniel approaching us with his strict stare. He is accompanied by a brunette boy with messy hair, fresh named-brand sneakers, and sagging denim jeans.
“Kendrick-mothafuckin-Blaire; aka Vanilla Lice. I knew I smelled herpes. And his girlfriend…I mean sister,” the brunette boy says. “Your secret is safe with me,” he finishes with a wink.
“You should really learn to mind your business,” Kendrick tells Daniel.
“Make me?” Daniel backfires at Kendrick.
“Yeeeeaaah bitch,” his brunette associate adds.
Daniel stops beside me. Kendrick has a very lean athletic built, but compared to Daniel he looks very meager. If Kendrick is about 180 pounds, then Daniel must be at least 210 pounds. I shift away from Daniel and back into Kendrick’s eyes, and I notice the nervousness building in his face.
“Now, talk to me like that,” Daniel orders Kendrick. “I dare ya.”
Kendrick swallows down hard, unwilling to muster the strength and courage to talk down to Daniel. I don’t blame the guy. For some reason, Kendrick glances back at his sister, as if she can somehow assist him.
“Why are you looking at her for?” Daniel asks as soon as Kendrick glances back at her. “She can’t help.”
He’s trying hard to gather the courage to show some kind of boldness towards Daniel, but I can see his mind refuting that option. A teacher stops and becomes bothered by the hostility in the air.
“Everything good here ladies and gentlemen?” the teacher asks.
“It's it, Kendrick?” Daniel asks boldly.
Without saying another word to Daniel and his friend, Arlene grabs Kendrick’s shirt and pulls on it, luring him away from Daniel’s harsh leer.
“Come on, let’s go,” she tells her brother.
She looks back at me one more time before turning and walking down the hall with her brother at her side. The teacher then continues on with his day. The three of us wait until Kendrick and Arlene turns the corner before we loosen our stance.
“You good?” he asks me in a bland tone.
I notice that he never puts any effort behind his words. The emotion on his face is never-changing.
“Yeah, thanks,” I tell him.
“You walk with your head down. When you do that, you unconsciously give others permission to bully you. That’s science,” the brunette guy states.
“I will remember that,” I reply.
They both wander off down the hallway. After hearing about how bad the Blaires are, I’m just happy I’m walking away in one piece. Luckily for me, Daniel came to scare them away, which he didn’t have to do. It’s becoming clear that he, just like my Uncle Frank, have a bad history with the Blaires.
A thought snaps me away from the current situation. I pull out my phone and check the time.
“Damn,” I blurt out when I realize that I'm already late to Biology.
I speed walk to class. How foolish of me to show up on the first day late. As I enter Biology class, I’m greeted by onlookers. Hopefully, they don't notice me sweating. The Professor is a man, probably in his forties, with a brown beard and matching hair. There are no desks in this classroom. Black counter-tops and sinks are lined perfectly side by side. I quickly scan the room for a seat. It takes me a second to discover one in the back.
"I see you ditched the wheelchair," a voice says next to me as I sit down.
I turn and quickly realize who it is. It’s one of Daniel’s friends. It’s the boy with the dark hair and baby-blue eyes. I saw him sitting in the grass with his friends that day I visited the campus.
"Oh hi," I acknowledge him with a smile.
I feel my body tense up, but I don’t know why. I shift to Professor Nelson as he continues his lecture on cellular growth. I then open my book-bag and pull out a fresh notebook and folder.
"Forever Dusk, that’s a nice band," the guy next to me says with a smile.
My notebook has my favorite band logo on the cover.
"Yeah, they’re my favorite band," I respond, trying to fight back a blushing smile.
“They’re my favorite band too. I’m Jason by the way," he says with an appealing smirk.
“I’m Iva.”
My heart starts to thump against my chest. I shift back to the Professor but it’s impossible to focus on him. Suddenly, I feel a warm sensation travel up my arm, unlike anything I've felt before. I look down and notice his fingers touching my hand. I stare up into his bright eyes, mesmerized. He seems to be pointing at something with his pen.
“Your folder fell,” he whispers to me.
"What…?" I glance over and see my folder resting on the floor. "Oh, thanks.”
I lean over and grab my folder off the floor. On my way up, I hear him laughing lowly next to me. I hope I’m not turning pink in the face.
"So, are you a rock-n-roller type?" he asks.
"It depends on the mood I'm in. I'm an alternative rock kind of gal. What about you?"
"I love old school rock. Plus, I have my own band. Music is a big part of my life.”
"You do? That’s awesome," I reply.
"We do it for fun. We don't take it seriously.”
"What instrument do you play?" I ask.
"I play the bass. The guy that helped your mom that day, he plays the guitar.”
“Are you referring to the guy with the crazy hair?”
He laughs charmingly at my comment.
“Yes, his name is Daniel. He’s pretty bad-ass with the guitar. And his sister, the Goth girl, that’s Maria. She does the keys. The twins, Eric and Jessica, they rotate on the drums. We call ourselves “Gang of Misfits”. But we haven’t played in years. So, are you new around here or what?" he asks with an untarnished smile.
"Yes.”
"Where are you from?" he questions me.
"Virginia.”
“Cool, so what brings you upstate?”
“My mom moved up here for a job, so I had no choice but to tag along.”
The more we talk, the more my body slowly becomes stiff like a plank of wood.
"I hope you like snow," he says with a chuckle.
I chuckle back at him.
"I heard it can get bad up here, but I don’t mind snow,” I reply.
His presses his lips tightly together and shakes his head in disagreement.
"You won’t be saying that in a couple of months,” he whispers to me.
“Is it really that bad?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“But look on the bright side, if we get snowed in, at least we won’t have to come to school,” I inform him.
He chuckles again.
“Nope, you still have to come to school. The schoolboard is fucking heartless here,” he finishes.
“What if it’s a foot of snow?” I ask.
“I guess you’ll be hiking to school in a foot of snow.”
“What if it’s three feet?”
“Then you’ll be hiking to school in three feet of snow.”
“Seriously, they can’t do that,” I reply.
“Get used to it Dorothy you’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“Virginia.”
“It’s the same difference.”
I try to keep my laughter at a minimum.
“Are you always this difficult?” I ask.
“It’s my job,” he replies.
“I think you should call in sick.”
“I’m all out of sick days,” he responds.
“Well, get your hours reduced or something,” I shoot back.
“I can’t. I’m a workaholic.”
“Well, I'm going to call your boss and...”
“Sorry, I'm the CEO of this company.”
I pause for a moment, unable to come up with new material.
“I can do this all day, Dorothy. I’m the comeback king. Bring it on.”
I stop to think about another comeback, but time has lingered way too long.
“Okay. You win for now, but I have a question.”
“I have an answer, maybe,” he replies charmingly.
“What's your take on this lion phenomenon? I can’t go anywhere without seeing it posted.”
He takes his time to snicker modestly at my question before answering.
“That started a couple of years back when a hiker took a picture of a black lion. It quickly grew into a money making gimmick for the town. Now, he’s like Glenworth’s Loch Ness Monster.”
“Someone else told me that,” I reply.
“To some people, he is not just an urban myth. Some say if you roam deep into the forest, you might just hear him roar. They call him Mane. He protects the forest from a demon. They say this demon was once a wolf and when the wolf ate a hundred hearts it turned into something else. It became part demon, part wolf. Some say it has a body of a man, but with a head of a dog. That’s how it got its name. They call this demon, The Hellhound. He waits in the woods, ready to find his next victim.”
“You know what? I overheard my mom talking on the phone with my Uncle. He said campers were attacked by something just recently. Did you hear about that”
“Yeah, I heard that one too. They tried to blame it on an animal, but I know who it was.”
“Let me guess, The Hellhound?” I ask.
“Yes. In order for him to stay alive, he must eat a heart every so often or else he gets weak and dies. He believes it’s his purpose to kill. And that’s what it does. It kills without remorse. Supposedly, he only kills people that are terrified of him. That’s why he hates Mane because he’s unable to fear anything. They are perfect enemies.”
The expression on his face is so serious that it’s creeping me out.
“Nobody would ever believe that stuff,” I say with a snicker. “It’s all superstition.”
Although I find it funny, his expression is humorless.
“You don’t believe it?” he asks me with a serious expression.
“Sorry, I don’t believe in ghost stories.”
He grunts and shakes his head in disagreement.
“Then you better start believing in it.”
I stop smiling. I take a second to gaze into his eyes. I study them, trying to find a hint of humor. There’s nothing there to indicate a joke.
“I hope everyone is paying attention back there.”
Professor Nelson says while looking directly at the two of us. We quickly shift our faces forward. When the Professor realizes he has our undivided attention again, he continues on with his lecture.
Before I know it, the classroom is emptying.
"Catch you later," he says to me as he leaves the room.
“See you later,” I reply.
I gather my belongings and head towards the door, but Professor Nelson stops me in my tracks.
"Miss, how are you late on the first day?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, I was lost.”
"Excuses are not a major in this University," he replies straightforwardly.
"Sorry. I won’t make it a habit.”
"I certainly hope not. I'll meet you here Thursday, on time.”
"Yes sir," I nod to him in agreement and exit the classroom.
I then wait outside for my mom to give me a lift back home. As soon as 4:30 strikes, I see the van coming into the school lot. I hop into the passenger's seat as soon as the van stops.
“Hey mom, how was work?”
My smile is brighter than ever.
“It went well,” she responds. "So, how was school?" she shoots back.
"Fantastic.”
"That’s good to hear," she tells me.
I try to lower my cheerfulness so she wouldn't notice me smiling so hard. A moment later, the car is still stationary. I turn to my mom, who can’t seem to stop staring at me with curiosity.
"What?" I ask while chuckling.
My huge smile is impossible to hide and I can see her mind connecting dots.
"I know that look," she presses on.
"What look?" I ask with aggravation.
"That one you have.”
"I don't know what you’re talking about.”
“That stupid smile on your face.”
“Is it a crime to be happy?” I reply.
“Not this damn happy. You’re over-the-top happy.”
I wish that my smile will fade already. She's on to me.
"Who is he?" she asks me.
"Mom, stop it," I say while blushing.
"Is he tall or is he short?”
“Mom, back off, please,” I plead to her.
“I’ll find out. I have good, credible, resources,” she tells me.
I roll my eyes and shift my face towards my window.
“Where did you meet him, English class or psychology class...?” she continues to interrogate me, unwilling to give up easily.
I roll my eyes yet again.
“Mom, you're delusional.”
“You met him in biology, didn’t you?” she continues her questioning.
“I met him online mom. He’s fresh out of prison. And we're in love. Are you happy now?”
She then laughs at my comeback.
“So, you want to play hard-ball? This is not over, girlfriend. Not by a long shot,” she informs me.
A day that started off scary ended pretty well for me. It’s kind of ridiculous how much I’m thinking about Jason. He somehow turned that horrible incident with the Blaires into a distant memory…