Pre-med Promises

1

                                                           Elliana

Three weeks. It has been three weeks since I arrived in Callen, Mississippi, to begin my freshman year of college at Grand Callen University, and I am already aching to return home.

     At merely forty-five minutes into the three-hour-long geography lecture course I attend every Wednesday, I allow my mind to wander home. I crave the familiarity of my parents, my friends, and my old life. In my small hometown of Breighton, South Carolina, everyone knew everyone. After all, with a population of only 7,000 residents, it was nearly implied you would have ties with every household in town. Until moving away, I failed to realize how much I truly enjoyed strutting the modest hallways of Breighton High and recognizing every face that I encountered. Here, at a school with over 60,000 students, there is no such luxury.

     Although I adored my life back home, I knew it was time for a change. The melancholy routine of school, dance practice, dinner, then homework was beginning to gnaw at me. With my outstanding academic record, it was obvious that I would be accepted to almost any university that I applied to. Thus, attending an out-of-state college was my way of changing the regularly scheduled programming. Besides, hanging around a town with one mediocre doctor was not going to pave my path to medical school.

     My eyes scan the compact, dome-shaped lecture hall, examining the hundreds of strangers who are planted in the rows of gray plastic seats in front of me. Three sections of stadium seating fill the room with divisions of steep stairs between. I take time to acknowledge how there are far more empty seats this afternoon than there were three weeks ago on the first day of lecture, likely due to the freshman mixer that starts in two hours.

     I am perched at the end of the very last row, nearest to the back door of the classroom. In all of my other courses, I declare my seat front and center on each day of class where the professors can see my face. In fact, I did the same the past two Wednesdays for geography as well. Today, however, I decided I was over the bullshit before I even stepped foot into Kregg Hall, the geography and geology building. Dr. Muck already knows my name anyways.

     Typically, I pride myself on being a positive and gung-ho gal, but today I simply am just not feeling it. This attitude may be due to my endless studying last night for the first Intro to Psych exam of the semester, causing mild sleep deprivation today. Or, more likely, it stems from the ridiculous disagreement I had with Rhett this morning.

     Oh, Rhett. Rhett Augustus Peterson, the absolute best-looking individual I have ever encountered. At five foot and eleven inches, his masculine figure was unlike most other guys his age, likely due to his vigorous workout regiment. His broad, muscular shoulders matched perfectly with his tree-trunk thighs. I never failed to feel safe while I was with Rhett, since his virile structure often frightened others. Tussled, dirty-blonde hair sat atop his gorgeous head, always perfectly styled to look as though he had just rolled out of bed. He was blessed with astonishing eyes – one a rich, dark brown while the other a Carolina blue color. His heterochromia has always seemed to draw unsolicited attention from the needy, amorous girls.

     However, as they say, within every angel, a demon hides. Rhett may have the appeal all figured out, but he can also be one of the biggest dicks on the planet. To me, anyways. It seems that he never directs his outrage towards anyone but me. I suppose I have learned to deal with it after the last three years.

     The hustle and bustle of students standing from their seats around me and slinging their backpacks over their shoulders shakes me from my thoughts. A few holler with glee while the rest have large grins plastered on their faces. Confused, I quickly slide my bottom from the front edge of my seat back to its rightful place, so I am no longer slumped down. I lift my wrist to check the time on my smartwatch. Bold, white numbers appear from the previously black screen.

     "5:23 PM... Wait, what?" I mutter to myself while looking side-to-side with furrowed brows. The lecture doesn't end for another hour and a half. Maybe he's giving us a five-minute break. "What's going on?" I ask the primped redhead as she shuffles past my knees with an annoyed look on her face. I suppose her irritation is warranted; I am the last person in the row and have not even attempted to get out of the way for others to pass.

     "Muck's letting us out early for the mixer," she scoffs.

     Oh. I glance towards the front of the room to see the PowerPoint presentation has already been shut off by Dr. Muck. Well, that's good, I suppose. I definitely was not paying attention anyways. I had no plans to attend the mixer, but at least I can go back to the dorm and catch up on some much needed sleep.

     I close my MacBook Air and slip it back into its black sleeve. After I shove the device into my overflowing backpack, I stand and fling the bag over my shoulder with a meek grunt. Time for a nap.