~Part 2: College~
"You must be really interesting, because you're not talking."
I pry my eyes upwards, and they land on a scraggly, cliché-hippie boy with long, golden-blond hair sporting a mismatched outfit of random beige garments.
Of course, I have no response, so I just squirm where I'm uncomfortably perched on the edge of my dorm bed. How I wish my silence were a calculated display of confident inner profundity. His comment reflects a degree of insightfulness but serves only to inflame the swelling, prickling lump that has been forming at the back of my throat for the past hour.
It's my first night in the Forest dormitory at Lewis & Clark College, and I'm simultaneously intrigued and terrified that my room is packed with fellow college students. They did not come because of me; I'm not quite certain how this mass of people wound up congregated here. My roommate, Krista, is sprawled carefree on the floor in front of her bed, her dirty-blonde hair piled on top of her head in a true messy bun.
Everyone here is cooler than I am—more hippie, more political, edgier, more articulate. I don't know about the music or movies they are discussing, the references to current events, the sexual innuendos.
I keep my mouth clamped shut and eyes averted, praying to blend into the crowd unnoticed. As usual, it's the direct byproduct of my fear of garnering attention—my silence—that gets me called out.
An energetic rapping on the open door rescues me from any further interrogation.
"Hey, guys! I'm Georgia, your Resident Assistant, or RA." An even-toned Asian girl with thick, black hair down to her waist waves to us from the threshold, then begins tossing colorful rubber bracelets into the room. She is wearing basketball shorts and an oversized black t-shirt.
I collect a purple bracelet from the floor, a sensation of good fortune flooding my heart for half a second at the notion that my favorite color flew my direction. The lump in my throat hardens, constricting my breath, as I register the stupidity of that thought. I don't want to be here.
"These bracelets all have different words that represent what we hope you'll experience and embrace as you transition into your first year here at Lewis & Clark. If you guys need anything, let me know. Okay, that's all. Yeah, goodbye." Georgia affects a purposely awkward wave that exudes confidence in herself and her position as RA.
The others in the room begin calling out the words on their bracelets and offering up commentary ranging from clever to sarcastic to crude.
"What does yours say?" Hippie-Boy asks me, catching my attention with a head nod.
I rotate the bracelet in my sweaty fingers and read, my voice rough and high and weak and wrong: "Reflection."
"She speaks!" someone chimes in, and heat invades my face.
"Who do you all have for your 'Inventing America' course?" Krista asks, directing the question to the whole room. The others begin naming professors, and I feel like I'm in a scene from a stupid movie about the first day of college. My brain is somehow numb and in hyperactive overdrive at the same time. I have no idea what my professor's name is (were we supposed to memorize that factoid?) and pray no one calls on me to recite it.
"Does anyone have Professor Craven? I heard he slept with a student last year."
"That's the professor who spoke at the orientation yesterday. Did you see him? I'm sure he's slept with dozens of students!"
"I'd sleep with him!"
People snicker, and for whatever reason, this gossip is making my heart race. I'm unprepared for these types of conversations, people throwing around sex like it's nothing. My teenage world has been contained within the four walls of rule-following, innocence, protection and mundanity. Sheltered with a roof of shyness.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
A New Reflection
किशोर उपन्यासNatalia Stevens is smart, nice and shy-and this is exactly how everyone sees her. Even day-to-day conversations with friends and classmates are difficult, and guys certainly don't pay her any attention. During her senior year, Nati begins to notice...
