Comfort Inn

Chapter Two: Yesterday

I was sitting in class, waiting for the teacher to show up finally. Man, he needs to hurry up. He's always late and then wants to go over. I mean, I like this class because it's creative writing, but still, he takes too long to get here, and then he wants to talk all day.

 "Hey, Weather." I looked up at her, ready to slap her because I knew she was trying to be funny. 

"It's Rayne." 

"Yeah, so I hear you are a writer." 

"Well, this is a writing class, isn't it." She did one of those faked giggles. 

"Oh, you are just so funny." 

"Why are you bothering me?" 

"I just saw you in a picture with Chris Brown on his Instagram." 

"Let me guess, you see me in that picture, and you think there is some way I could get you to meet him." Her eyes lit up. 

"Well, that sucks for you because I'm not. Aw, don't look so disappointed. I never do nice things for people I can't stand. So now you don't have to feel so alone." 

She got up and walked away. Ugh, I'm so sick of these girls who act funny around me, and then when they find out who I am, they want to befriend me. That's why I don't stay in the dorms anymore. Some of the guys try to be groupies, too.

 During freshman year, I had this roommate, one of the fakest people I have ever met. I wanted to stay in the dorms because I finally wanted to interact with other people and make genuine friendships. 

It didn't last long. I moved out the second semester and got my apartment with Tiffany. 

"Rayne, now that was just straight-up mean." My best friend Brian said, sitting next to me. 

"She should have never tried me. Calling me the weather." He laughed, so I hit him. 

"That's not funny, Brian." 

"So, did you get started on the end-of-the-year project?" 

"Yep, when he assigned it, we do have to write a mini book. How about you?" 

"I figured I'll just wing it when the time comes." 

"That's why you are failing this class." 

"Hey, I'm passing." 

"Barely," I said, joking. 

"I do what I can to get by." 

"Good morning, class. Sorry, I'm late." 

He's late every day. What does he mean? Sorry, I'm late. 

"Okay, class, so today is poetry presentation day. Who would like to go first." 

No one raised their hands. 

"I would," I said aloud. 

I would so I can sleep through everyone else lame poems. Many people only take this class because of the supposed easy A, but this class is more complicated than you think. I got up and went to the front of the class with my notebook. 

"The poem I wrote is called Mirrors." 

"My world is a consciousness of being...being mirrored back to me...If I'm willing to see myself in this mirror, I see myself...my reflection of my world...To understand my behavior, I must understand the meanings behind certain situations...Looking at my everyday actions between myself and everyone else...I'm learning who I am through you...It's your personality that feeds my soul...In this mirror, I see...The looking-glass self...We are shaped by a society which is ourselves..."