The Forgotten Ring

Chapter 2: University

Today was my first day of university. For now, I was going to be an art major just so I could get out of taking any hard classes while I helped the heroes.

I wasn't dorming unfortunately, as all the rooms had been taken earlier in the semester. My apartment wasn't too far from campus though, so I was able to simply walk there for classes.

I stopped at a little café on campus and bought a breakfast croissant and coffee with some brie to go with it. I took a plastic knife and sat down briefly to cut the brie before giving some to Renovva in my pocket and continuing on my way to class.

Coming in the middle of a semester, I had already taken my Art History class back at home, so my next course of action was learning how to use different mediums.

After figuring out where my campus map was taking me, I arrived at the classroom. The room was spacious but not vast. From my view from the door, the wall to my left was evidently the front of the classroom with a whiteboard, all the desks facing toward it. The desks were spaced out in the center and the cabinets full of art supplies and sinks were on the back wall. The wall in front of me was covered in expansive windows that allowed for a clear view of a recreational field dotted with trees and students lounging.

I glance around the room, taking in the few students there. The professor sat at his desk, small round glasses perched on his nose as he looked at his computer screen. I quietly walk to the thin and balding man as he looks up at me.

"Uh, hi," I murmur. "I'm the new exchange student."

He grins at me widely and exclaims, "Ah, of course. We've been expecting you." He holds out a hand for me to shake and I take it. He confirms my name in his updated roster and I mutter in agreement.

He turns to face me in his chair. "Well, my name is Professor Smith. Many of the desks are taken already and I'm sure none of the students want you stealing their spot. You're quite early, so go get yourself set up, erm..." 

He ponders where to put me, scanning the room. "Ah, perfect! I know that seat is empty. Go sit next to that blonde boy in the back. That seat should be free," and then he calls, "Adrien!"

I look to the back of the room to see a boy with light blonde hair shoot his head up from a book. He looks questioningly at Mr. Smith as he continues.

"Raise your hand, Adrien, we have a new student," Mr. Smith explains. The boy raises his hand. Mr. Smith looks back at me and says, "Go sit in the empty desk to his left. Luckily, you arrived at the beginning of a new unit and we'll be learning to work with oil paints today. The supplies are in the back." He gives me a small smile. "Welcome to Paris."

I carefully make my way to the back of the class. The boy, Adrien, sat closest to the windows in the very back corner of the room. From my perspective, the empty desk was on the right.

I set my stuff down at the desk and glance at the supply cabinets. Nothing was labeled. I sigh and sulk to the cabinets, beginning my search for some oil paints.

After searching for a good three minutes and coming up empty handed, the boy behind me speaks.

"If you're looking for the oil paints, there's some in the cabinet to your upper right."

I whip my head around to the voice and see Adrien glancing at me with a hand on his cheek, leaning his elbow on the desk. I glance back at the cabinets and search in the one he told me. Problem is, I can't reach.

I grumble to myself as I attempt to simultaneously hop and open the drawer when I hear Adrien laugh and approach me. I turn around just as he leans over me to pry open the door. It pops open and he pulls down a tub of oil paints.

"Here you go," he says and walks back to his seat.

"Thanks," I reply, going to pick some colors from the bucket. I look back up at the cabinet and jump while I slam the door back. I decide to leave the bucket of paints there, deducing that others would need them soon anyway.

I snatch some brushes and a canvas on my way back to my desk and sit down.

The class was filling up now. Students came and got their supplies before sitting back down. The room was soon full of chatter.

I look down at my canvas and think up some ideas for my painting—that is, if we can chose our own topic. Suddenly, a voice to my right interrupts my brainstorming.

"So, you're an exchange student?"

I turn to see Adrien with a questioning look in his eyes. I simply nod in response.

He smiles. "Cool. Where from?"

I tell him and he grins wider. "That must be quite the culture shock. Did you just move here?"

"Yeah," I answer. "I moved a couple of days ago. Decided I wanted to try new beginnings."

He scoffs with a smile. "Oh, you'll definitely get new beginnings here."

I tilt my head with a knowing suspicion of what he might say next. "And why's that?"

"Nothing much, just superheroes," he drawls.

I snort. "You want me to be surprised, but I already knew about that."

His eyes widen. "How? Most people come here and have no idea."

"I do my research," I state.

"And you still decided to come here?"

"But of course. Paris is still Paris, am I wrong?"

He shrugs. "Yeah sure. Still a pretty place I guess. Great place to study art."

"Precisely," I confirm and turn back to my canvas.

"Well," he says, stretching in his desk, "nice to meet you. I'm Adrien Agreste. You?"

I quickly tell him my name before remarking, "I've heard of you before. Are you a model?"

He groans. "Used to be. Quit as soon as I started here. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

I hum in response. "My bad, I won't bring it up again. Child fame isn't fun from what I've heard."

He looks at me. "That's nice of you. When people find out, they usually go apeshit."

I let out a cackle. "Nah don't worry. I won't treat you like a god," I joke.

"Boohoo," he smirks.

Mr. Smith then calls class into session. As he's speaking, a slip of paper slides on my desk. I glance at Adrien before reading the note.

It had his number with a message saying, "If you ever need help with any Parisian stuff."

I squint back at him and mouth, "That was fast," as he huffs out a laugh and turns back to the lesson.

I tuck the note into my pocket and start my first class.

~ ~ ~

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