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One - RJ

I get to class a few minutes after the bell rings. I could have made it on time if I ran but, truth be told, I don't give a fuck. It's not like I'm aiming for honors or anything. I have decent grades in my major classes and that's what matters to me. All I'm aiming for in this class is a passing grade.

All heads, including the professor's turn in my direction.

I raise an eyebrow.

What? Have they never seen a tardy person before?

"Nice of you to join us Mr...?" says the professor.

"Faulkerson," I tell her. What the fuck is she wearing?! I pull my backpack strap higher on my shoulder just to distract myself from the ridiculousness of it all.

"Yes. Well. As I said, nice of you to join us Mr. Faulkerson. Take a seat."

I look around. The class is full. Figures. Apparently, it's a really popular class. There's only one vacant seat on the second row so I take it. It pains me to be almost at the front. Maybe it's worth it to come in early next time just so I can get a good seat at the very back where I can probably take a nap or do homework for my other classes; anything that will distract me from what's going on around me.

I scan my surroundings, hoping to find at least one familiar face but there is none. I don't know what I was thinking. No one I know would be caught dead in this class anyway.

I stop short as my eyes land on the girl sitting next to me. She won't stop squirming in her seat. I can't tell if she's excited or if she needs to use the restroom. She's staring at the professor with a look of pure admiration on her face. Everytime our teacher finishes a sentence, she sighs a little as if every word were giving her a tiny orgasm.

What a dork.

I roll my eyes as I look at the professor again.

Speaking of dorks...

The woman is wearing a floor-length black robe with green trim on the collar. Under the robe, she's wearing some sort of uniform which is weird because this university does not have them but yeah, she's definitely wearing one. Gray skirt, knee-high socks, black shoes, white polo, dark gray sweater vest, and a silver and green tie.

"As I was saying before we got interrupted," she looks in my direction, "welcome to your Literature Elective: Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived."

Everyone around me starts to cheer. I slump in my seat and let out a groan of frustration. Just a few months. It'll be over before I know it.

I glance at the girl sitting beside me. Is she..? Yep, she's crying. She's actually crying. Happy tears, I presume. I see her wiping the corners of her eyes.

"For the next five months," the professor continues, " we will be reading, discussing, analysing, and immersing ourselves in all seven Harry Potter books."

It's at this point when I tune her out completely. I hate this. I fucking hate this. I wanted to enroll for the Carpentry elective but, because of system glitches on the enrollment system, I ended up here. And now, I'm stuck with a bunch of geeks who, by the looks of it, hero-worship Harry Potter's scrawny little ass.

I hate the idea of being forced to participate in a class that I didn't want to be in in the first place.

I'm lost in thought when I feel someone tap my shoulder. I look up and I see the crybaby beaming at me.

"Hello," she says in an overly cheerful voice.

I raise an eyebrow at her. She smiles at me expectantly.