Red light

2. Pretty lonely (Izuna)

Focus... Come on, Izuna, focus!

I looked down on my book, Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. I'd read it two times already, the first time when I was twelve, so I knew I could write an essay and gain the highest mark without even opening the book. But I had figured I might as well read it again and not only earn the highest mark, but blow the professor's mind away.

But I couldn't focus. I kept looking around me, terrified. It usually wasn't this bad, not even at university. But being in a library was, somehow, even more nerve-wrecking. It was so full of innocent people, children even, coming to borrow books or to study or to just be together without the pressure of talking. That made the library worse than university.

The library was the main one in the city, not connected to the university but public, and newly built. The modern, glassed-in rooms for studying or group work were all taken on a Saturday afternoon like this, so I had to sit outside on one of the benches in the centre of the top floor among many others who were there to study or maybe just to read. I tried to convince myself that people were not looking at me, that they did not recognise me, but it wasn't the easiest. It would make sense that some people I saw out each day knew who I was; I wasn't famous, by any means, but I was a name. I wasn't ashamed of it, mind; I was too carefree for that. But I was awfully shy about it.

I looked down on my notebook again, on my hastily scribbled-down notes. The essay was about comparing and contrasting Aldous Huxley work to the poets of his time. I knew I would do a splendid job of it, if I had only stayed home. Oh, why had I decided to go here? I knew why. I was longing for the normality and incredible cosiness of being an English literature student writing his modern classic essay in a library, a piece of confectionary next to him, maybe some tea. I wanted to feel as though I belonged, that I wasn't carrying around a big secret constantly hooding over me like a raincloud.

Why am I even doing all of that? I could just quit and be just a student and nothing else.

I shut my book closed and sighed. I knew why that wasn't possible. Mother was already working two jobs in order to pay for everything, excluding my education. During my first year, my mother had drowned herself in work trying to help me so I didn't have to take a student loan. But since the second year, she hadn't had to help me out...

"I'm so happy you have a job at the library!" she would beam. "Who knew that paid so well?"

I hated lying to her. But it was better than the truth.

I took my black-and-white checked Vans backpack, slung it over one shoulder, fixed my light blue jeans shirt, tightened my high ponytail. I stretched, took my paper mug of tea, now lukewarm, and walked towards the exit.

It was one of those crisp early spring days, the ones who you knew would make the crocuses bloom and the leaves start to peek through their buds if the weather only lasted for a few days. I hadn't needed a jacked, and I enjoyed the freedom of just the fabric of my shirt and my black trousers between my skin and the wind. I walked happily beneath the trees in the alleyways, more relaxed now I was out of the pressed quietness so typical and universal for libraries; here I was more okay with someone recognising me because they would just catch sight of me, wonder is that him? and then I would have walked away before they had time to make sure, and even if they made sure they couldn't approach me without heavily outing themselves.

It had all started on the summer between my first and second year of university. I had started university a bit later, so I was twenty-two then, having started at twenty-one. At the end of the term, one of the popular boys had approached me. I had always believed the division into popular and unpopular kids would end with high school, but apparently not so much. I was shy, quite alternative and a little girly, so I was pretty lonely. This boy, however, was part of the in-group. He had angelic blond curls and a spark to his eyes, wasn't too tall but had a good physique. When he had approached me when I sat alone in a study room late one evening, I had been terribly flattered.