Chapter 5 – Haley
The weekend flies by. Philip comes to see me on Saturday, and we have a wonderful day.
He comes with me to the campus bookstore.
After I buy my textbooks, we bring them back to my room, and then we walk to Lafayette Street for lunch at a small diner.
The food is delicious, and afterward we visit some of the shops in the area. He stays until my curfew.
My parents—all four of them—come to campus on Sunday.
I show them my dorm room, introduce them to Melissa, and show them around the main spots on campus.
Afterward, we walk to Lafayette Street and have supper at a wonderful Italian restaurant called Mama Bella’s.
We have a great time. Even though my mom tears up once, she never stops smiling.
Monday morning arrives before I know it, officially kicking off my first day of classes. It feels like I have dreamed of this day for years.
I have a pretty typical schedule for a freshman—chemistry lecture, US History, and chemistry lab on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
I have British literature and political science on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
The history and poly sci courses count toward my dual majors.
The Brit lit and chem courses are general education courses.
My first class for today is chemistry lecture at nine o’clock, but I leave the dorm at eight so I have time to stop at the student union beforehand to grab a quick bite to eat. Not surprisingly, the building is packed this morning with students and faculty who have the same idea.
I stand in line to get an iced caramel coffee with whipped cream, as well as a sausage and egg sandwich on a toasted bagel. There are no available tables, so I stand at a counter to scarf down my breakfast, all the while keeping a close eye on the clock.
By the time I’m done eating, I have fifteen minutes to get to my chemistry lecture, so I hustle out of the building and across the big central courtyard.
Lots of students are milling around, drinking coffee, and sitting around the big fountain.
It looks like something out of a movie, and I want to pinch myself to be sure it’s real.
My chemistry class is held in a huge lecture hall that holds at least a couple hundred students. The place is already packed when I arrive, but I’m able to find a good seat near the front of the room. I get my tablet and digital pencil out so I’m ready to take notes.
Students continue to file in and take their seats, some of them standing around talking.
Right at nine, the room hushes and students quickly find their seats. The professor has arrived. Dr. Ann Foley is an older woman with gray hair in a bun. She’s dressed in a white lab coat, and a pair of readers are perched on her nose.
After introducing herself, she goes over the syllabus. And then the lecture begins, accompanied by lots of slides projected on a huge screen at the front of the room. I listen and take notes like a good student, but it’s all pretty basic stuff I already know from high school.
After chemistry is my US history course, which I’m taking with Layla and Jasmine.
The class starts at ten, so with my backpack slung over my shoulder, I head to one of the liberal arts buildings.
I’m supposed to meet Layla and Jasmine outside our lecture hall a few minutes before class starts, and I don’t want to be late.
We want to get there early enough we can grab three seats together.
On my way across campus, my phone chimes with an incoming text from Philip.
Philip – have a great first day of classes. miss you!
Of course, I text him back.
Me – Will do. Have a good day yourself. Hope to see you soon.
My mom sends me a text message featuring a GIF of an animated heart emoji. Over the next few minutes, I hear from the rest of my parents.
Dave – kick ass today, kid. Take no prisoners
Dad – Have fun, honey! Love you!
Erin – You’re going to do great! Love u!
Their messages put a smile on my face and help settle my nerves.
I race into the liberal arts building and immediately spot Layla and Jasmine seated on a wooden bench in front of a huge window. Jason is standing beside Layla.
“Hey, guys,” I say, a bit breathless. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late.” Layla smiles up at me. “Did you get settled into your dorm room okay?”
I set my backpack on the floor and try to catch my breath. “Yes.”
Jasmine picks up my backpack. “Good grief, girl! Is this thing heavy enough?”
I laugh. “It’s just my tablet, my history textbook, and my chemistry books.”
“Are you sure that’s all? This thing weighs a ton.”
The door to our lecture hall opens, and the students who were in there before us stream out into the hallway. We have to wait a few minutes before the way is clear for us to enter.
Our history class is held in another one of those huge lecture halls. Jasmine leads the way down the center aisle to a row about halfway down the room. She takes the third seat from the aisle and motions for me to sit next to her. Layla takes the aisle seat.
Jasmine leans over to me and whispers, “Layla sits in the aisle seat in case she needs to leave early and so Jason can see her easily.”
I glance back to see Jason sitting in the back row aisle seat with a direct line of sight to Layla. He’s doing a good job looking inconspicuous. Dressed in blue jeans, sneakers, and a university hoodie, he could easily pass for a student.
It’s kind of weird having a friend who has her own personal bodyguard, but I guess it’s not surprising since she’s on the Forbes list of the wealthiest adults in the US under the age of thirty. Unfortunately, her wealth makes her a target.
As students begin filling the seats around us, I notice more than a few of them glancing back to stare at Layla. They whisper and point at her.
Layla puts earbuds in her ears and tunes everyone out.
“Why are they staring at her?” I ask Jasmine. “Do they know who she is?”
Jasmine nods. “She’s kind of hard to miss.”
That’s true. Layla has striking good looks, with her silky jet black hair, sun-kissed light brown skin, and dark, dark eyes lined with kohl.
I’ve heard she gets a lot of snide comments and dirty looks from other students.
She also gets hit on all the time. They’re interested in her either for her money or for her looks. I’m sure it irritates Jason to no end.
When Professor Patterson walks in, Layla gets a small digital recorder out of her backpack and turns it on.
Jasmine leans close again. “Layla records the lectures in case she has to leave early, or in case she has an episode and can’t pay attention.”
Even now, she still has her earbuds in her ears. I know she listens to music to block out the mean girl voices in her head. I wonder if she’s hearing them right now.
The professor talks for a while, shows us some slides, and plays a short film. I take notes on my tablet. Jasmine does the same on hers. Layla just sits there with her earbuds in.
When class is over, we file out of the auditorium.
Jason is waiting for us just outside the set of double doors. “How was it?” he asks.
“Riveting,” Jasmine says as she rolls her eyes.
Jason reaches for Layla’s hand. “Doing okay?”
She pulls out her earbuds. “Better now. How about some lunch?”
We planned our schedules so we’d have an hour break after our history class. This way, we can have lunch together. The four of us head over to the cafeteria. We grab our food and find a table. Jason sits at a nearby table.
“He’s not joining us?” I ask.
Jasmine shakes her head. “No, he’s being a gentleman and giving us some alone time.”
“He tries not to hover all the time,” Layla says. “It’s sweet.”
The three of us eat, talk, and laugh.
Twice, random guys stop by our table and try to chat us up, but Jasmine sends them quickly on their way. “Sorry, guys.” She gestures for them to go. “There’s nothing here for you. You’ll move on if you know what’s good for you. If I don’t kick your asses—” she nods at Jason “—he will.”
After lunch, Layla gives me a hug. “We’ll see you again on Wednesday. Same time, same place.”
“Have fun,” Jasmine says to me. “Let us know how it goes.”
* * *
It’s noon, and my chem lab isn’t until one o’clock.
I have an entire hour to kill, so I go outside and end up sitting at an open picnic table on the green.
It’s a beautiful day, and I end up reading on my tablet.
Occasionally, I’ll shift my attention to a small group of students kicking a soccer ball back and forth. I definitely could get used to this.
A few minutes before one, I walk into my chem lab classroom. The lab classes are much smaller than the lecture halls, more like what I’m used to. Half the class is already in here and seated at the tall tables that each accommodate two students. I sit at an open table.
“Is this seat taken?” asks a guy who gestures to the empty stool beside mine.
I smile at a dark-haired, dark-eyed, clean-shaven guy. “No. Help yourself.”
After he sets his lab manual and tablet on the table and takes a seat, he offers me his hand. “Mark Hoffman. I saw you in the chemistry lecture hall this morning.”
I stare at his hand, not exactly wanting to shake it, but he persists until it becomes awkward, so I do. “Haley Donovan.”
He holds my hand tightly in his. “It’s a pleasure, Haley. So, is this your first year?” When I nod, he asks, “Which dorm are you in?”
I’m not comfortable sharing personal information with a complete stranger. Thankfully I’m saved from answering when the instructor walks into the room. Everyone gets quiet and faces the desk at the front of the room.
The instructor introduces herself as Ms. Davis and tells us to introduce ourselves to the person sitting next to us. “He, or she, will be your lab partner for the entire term. Be nice and make friends.”
While everyone in the class is introducing themselves to their table mates, mine says, “So, Haley, tell me about yourself.”