Chapter Three
The week dragged for Rus, and every day seemed infinitely further from the fun Friday night he had planned.
While his class didn’t start until ten, he had barely dragged himself out of bed in time to make the long trek across campus.
Technically, he lived off campus, but his apartment complex was actually closer to his class buildings than most of the on-campus dormitories scattered at the far end.
“What are you wearing?” Daysha called out in her judgiest tone.
The expression fell away quickly since she was mostly all smiles all the time.
Rus smirked, half-exhausted and half-amused by Daysha’s failed attempts to pick at him.
It wasn’t every day he rolled out of bed and rocked his pajamas to class.
They were comfy and casual, and when Daysha’s gaze dropped to his feet, Rus realized it wasn’t his pajamas but his slippers that his friend judged.
Giant dragon slippers with floppy wings that bounced on the sides of his feet and a tail connected to the heels. They were ridiculous, and Rus loved them.
Unlike Rus, Daysha wore a plaid blazer and matching skirt with a fancy purple blouse.
The vibrant purple complemented Daysha’s deep brown complexion, and the outfit itself accentuated her stout, curvy frame.
She looped an arm around his as they reached the crosswalk and boldly led him across, ignoring traffic alongside most of the campus pedestrians.
The sun stung Rus’ eyes, making him buffer his vision with his free arm, and giving complete control of his welfare to Daysha as she led the way to their class.
The history building was one of the least historic on campus, having been built a few years before Rus enrolled.
It practically still had that new building smell, very sleek and modern and simple.
Daysha made small talk with Rus before their lecture started up, but even as class began, his mind remained lost on his Friday plans.
All he thought about was the next time he’d see Dylan and Kaiden, finding himself fixated on their conversations during the fundraiser.
It didn’t help that he hadn’t heard back from the court about his finalized paperwork.
While he knew he’d checked all his boxes and done everything the DA had demanded, he still anxiously awaited the results.
Once they officially dismissed his case, he could put that incident behind him.
“I’m sorry, is this class seriously going to overlook true historical heroes just to be diverse?
” Emma Alexander asked, brushing a hand through her long blonde hair as she raised it high.
The hand was just a gesture to draw eyes to her, as she never waited for the professor’s acknowledgement.
Nope, she often blurted her commentary mid-lecture every opportunity she could.
Another reason Rus’ week dragged had to do with the fact that his history class, ‘Hidden Heroes Between the Pages,’ took place three mornings a week.
This was supposed to be an amazing course for him to share with Daysha.
It covered her elective requirements, and it fit into one of the History electives Rus required for his major.
It was also nice to take a class that specifically focused on historic figures who were often overlooked or completely cut from standard textbooks.
Unfortunately, Emma also needed the credit for her history major.
She was the bane of Rus’ existence, intentionally enrolling in history so she could learn to fight back against the “woke” mob she proclaimed wanted to rewrite history without the right lens.
And Rus knew she meant conservative with her shitty pun.
“I don’t know,” Emma said, twirling a pink pen between her fingers.
A stylish pen that matched her outfit and had her sorority letters on the tip.
“I just find it challenging to fill an entire semester with historical figures while purposefully ignoring the accomplishments of white men. I understand it’s not PC to be inclusive to white people anymore, but it just feels like we’re going to be missing a lot of historical relevance skipping around to the few moments in history not impacted by successful white men. ”
Daysha gagged hard, rolling her eyes in the process.
When that didn’t get a rise out of Rus, she gave him a silly smile to lighten the mood.
Not an easy task when Emma was nearby. It didn’t work, but he faked a sassy grin anyway.
His way of thanking her efforts. It took everything Rus had to bite his tongue, almost quite literally as he ground his teeth.
But he’d already been kicked out of the class on two separate occasions for arguing with Emma.
Not that the professor wanted to remove Rus for his disruptive behavior, but Emma cried bias at her removal when the arguments only ever escalated because of Rus’ rude antics.
It didn’t help that he called her a cunt on both occasions—loud, proud, and with a string of other profanities to keep the curse word company.
After ten minutes of back and forth with Emma, whose questions got more obnoxious, the lecture finally continued. Rus knew Emma’s only real goal in this class was to waste time and diminish the value shared in this course, all while ensuring she did just enough to pass.
“You know she’s only that way to get a rise out of people,” Daysha said, tugging on Rus’ sleeve to guide him toward the doors opposite Emma’s direction. It was the longer way out of the building, but Rus knew Daysha suspected he’d provoke an argument if he crossed paths with Emma.
“Well, it’s working,” Rus admitted.
He never understood why someone would pick a major for a degree in a field they only ever wanted to undermine.
Emma had a few courses she liked, usually led by old, crotchety professors who focused on the standard, whitewashed texts.
Still, even so, Emma never held much passion for knowledge, just an interest in poking holes through any discussion that didn’t match her beliefs.
Rus thought about his brother, who majored in theology as a way to deconstruct religion, focus on the philosophy of ideology, and fight against Christian nationalist beliefs overtaking politics and policies.
Maybe that was the same thing as Emma, only clearly for evil in her case.
But even that didn’t make sense. His brother never warped what he learned.
In fact, he went out of his way to highlight the inaccuracies many churches swept aside when it didn’t fit their message of hatred.
Emma didn’t want to learn history to amplify historically repressed white people.
As if such an oxymoron existed. No, she wanted to master history so she could bury the truths of minorities.
She wanted to undermine the impact of BIPOC people, hide the roles of women, and pretend the queers were just roommates, close friends, or anything heteronormative.
She was bigoted trash, and Rus despised her.
“I’ll be honest,” he said through gritted teeth. “I want to punch her in her snide, little face.”
“You and me both,” Daysha replied. “And about a thousand others.”
After they left the building, Rus followed Daysha across campus, letting her lead the way.
He didn’t have another class for two hours, so he was content wandering aimlessly.
Especially since he didn’t have much else to distract him from his Friday plans.
With the semester only recently starting up, the coursework had remained relatively light.
With his community service finished, his schedule remained all too flexible.
“Grab a bite before class?”
Rus wrinkled his nose. “I’m not really that hungry.”
“Well, unlike someone, I have four back-to-back classes today, so now or never.” Daysha booked her schedule super heavy on Wednesday and Thursday to lighten the rest of her week.
Actually, their history class together was the only Monday-Wednesday-Friday course Daysha had this semester, focusing most of her coursework to Tuesday-Thursday or the big three-hour block class that met weekly on Wednesday.
It helped lighten the rest of her week for work and Pride Club and pretty much anything else she wanted to focus on.
Rus tried to take part in the Pride Club meetings but found he didn’t mesh with the queer campus group as well as Daysha. She navigated the daily politics much more delicately than someone of Rus’ brash nature.
There were a lot of great ideas floating around in Pride and some solid members, but Rus found that, as a group, things often turned into this debate on morals, where any misstep was treated as intolerance.
Lots of purity politics. It was something Rus had recognized in his behavior once upon a time, finding fault with everyone as a teen for failing to uphold whatever ridiculous moral compass dictated Rus’ life.
Eventually, he realized there had to be room for mistakes, for growth, and to accept that people had imperfections.
He didn’t have the energy to argue with Pride members—who he mostly liked despite their virtue signaling—while they turned their compassion into a competition, looking for any flaws in similarly minded peers so they could go to war with them for not being tolerant enough.
Speaking of war, as they made their way into the campus café, Daysha broke away to grab some pizza and sushi, while Rus went for something light and snack-ish. Of course, he had to pick the same salad bar as Emma and her friend Landon.
“Oh my fucking God, look at this dumb bitch,” Landon said with a heinous hyena laugh, holding his phone up for Emma.