Petite Fleur

2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Maeve Henderson

Today is the first day of the fall semester, and of course, I'm not prepared.

I woke up late, I lost a shoe somehow, and I missed the bus. Overall, I'm off to a great start.

I don't know why they even call it fall in Texas when it's always so dang hot. I'm sweating half a block down from my apartment; very ladylike.

If it wasn't the first day, I'd skip my first class today and catch a later bus, but I don't want to be known for the entire semester as the girl who skips the first day. They'd only see me as a slacker or maybe assume I'm a party girl and was too hungover to show up. I'd rather nobody look at me like that.

So, that leads us here, to me running like an idiot down the Houston streets.

My college is two miles from my apartment, and honestly, when I rented the place, I thought that was close enough.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I should have asked one of my roommates to drive me to school; that would have been the smart thing to do.

Carlie doesn't have her first class until noon and Sean doesn't have his until ten.

Either one of them would've been pissed that I'd woken them up, but they would've done it.

Heck, Carlie probably would've just thrown her car keys in my face and told me to leave her alone.

Yep, I definitely should've done that.

I managed to make it to class with only a minute to spare. That gives me just enough time to throw my bag in an empty seat and rush out into the hallway with a can of spray deodorant and the baby wipes I always keep in my bag.

I like to be prepared; sue me.

I quickly wipe the sweat off my arms and face, dousing myself in a hefty amount of deodorant, and shake out my shirt so it's no longer stuck to my back.

When I come back in, everyone is staring at me.

Wonderful.

So, instead of being perceived as the party animal who can't stay sober long enough to show up, I'm the girl who stinks.

I rather would've been the one who skipped.

I take my seat and try to give a friendly wave to everyone who stares at me, but I'm humiliated.

I hope that means this was my bad for the day, leaving the rest of the day to actually go well.

"Now that we're all seated, welcome to Environmental Conservation 101." The professor announces.

I pull my laptop out of my bag and open it to where I will be typing the class notes, but I also have my phone set to record the lecture.

I don't want to miss anything since I really can't afford to retake a class.

The professor waits a minute until everyone's laptops are ready before beginning, I like that. It gives me a good feeling about this class if he's considerate enough to wait for us.

This is going to be a great semester.

"Normally, I would begin with the taboo topic of overpopulation, but I think this semester, we will switch things up. We will start with our discussion of global warming and the ozone. " He announces.

That's going to throw me off; I already studied up on this guy's opinion on overpopulation. I was hoping it would give me an advantage that we had the same views.

The professor starts the lecture on the effects of global warming, what is causing it, what we as humans would need to do to stop it, and how much longer it is predicted our planet has if we continue down the path we are on.

Standard stuff.

I'm typing away so fast that my fingers cramp, but I can't stop. I don't even have time to fix my spelling mistakes, so I'm thankful the lecture is being recorded in case something I type ends up being absolute gibberish to me when I reread my notes.

The professor eventually moves on to the things that could be harming the ozone layer: the simple things that we use every day without any consideration for our planet.

"That is why aerosols, like Miss Henderson bathed herself in right outside my door, are killing this planet. Good job, Ms. Henderson." He announces, staring right at me.

I'm red as a tomato, I'm sure of it; this is humiliating.

As soon as this class is over, I'm throwing away every single item I own that comes in an aerosol.

I hide my face behind my screen, praying that nobody is staring at me, but, of course, fate couldn't be that kind to me. I hear some jerk in the front mutter something about me choosing beauty over having clean oxygen for his great-grandkids to breathe in.

So, maybe this semester won't be as great as I thought it would.

It's only the first day, and I'm already an inconsiderate planet killer in a class full of people who vow to save it.

Crap.

At least after class, I can eat, that'll brighten my mood. I loved the ladies in the cafeteria last year. They were the sweetest women who always did their best to look out for me.

I know I'm not easy; having celiac disease and being a vegan challenges anyone who's tasked with feeding me, but they're magnificent.

Last year was a bit of a mess when it came to cross-contamination. I'd skipped more meals than I would've liked because some jerk contaminated the whole area.

But I was told over the summer, they fired the woman who managed the dining hall and replaced her with someone much more strict.

I can tell, too. As soon as I walked in, I could see the difference from last year.

I'm also glad it isn't too crowded right now, I don't talk to many people and Carlie will still be in her first class by now. Sean is out of class, but I am guessing he’ll leave campus for lunch; he always does.

Not only am I broke, but I have the meal card, so there's no way I’m wasting it by not eating here as often as I possibly can.

I grab a tray and head right for the gluten-free area of the cafeteria, my little corner where everything is safe.

I grab a bit of the sheet pan vegetables and vegan, gluten-free sausage and drizzle the whole thing in balsamic vinegar before heading toward an empty table in the corner of the room.

It looks like they've done some research on celiac disease, and now they keep all of the silverware and trays separate from the regular section of the cafeteria.

Good, I can't afford to miss class if I eat something contaminated.

Heck, I can barely afford to be in class. Between financial aid and scholarships, my tuition still isn't covered. I still had to take out a student loan that was so hefty that I'll be paying it off until I'm dead. Maybe after that.

As I eat my lunch, I watch everyone around me from a safe distance. I watch as they converse, laugh, and live the life I'm envious of. I may be shy, but I get lonely in this life sometimes.

This solitude from being so socially awkward that I can't even hold a casual conversation for more than a few minutes sucks.

It's not like I don't have friends, I do. Not very many, but that's okay! It's not a bad thing to keep your circle small, right?

We don't have any classes together, and our lunch times don't generally align, so I'm left by myself more than I'd like.

It's okay. I'm sure we'll all end up occasionally meeting for dinner, as we have for the last two years.

I skip out on most of the dinners off campus to save myself money, but I do join them whenever everyone meets up in the dining hall after our last class.

Usually, they're on their way to the bar or some frat party, and I'm on the way home, but it gives me a little time with my friends before we part ways.

As I'm staring out the window, watching a few football jocks tossing around a ball in the courtyard, I hear a chair sliding across the floor and the clanking of a bag being tossed onto the table.

When I turn my head to look, I see a beautiful southern belle staring back at me. She has long blonde hair done up in beach waves, gorgeous blue eyes, perfect makeup, and an outfit that looks as if she belongs in a country music video.

She's flawless, and she's smiling at me.

Crap, I've been staring for too long without saying anything.

Say something. Anything, idiot.

"Hey…" I say. I want to slap myself for being so dang awkward. Is that really all I can come up with?

This girl doesn't seem phased by my awkwardness; she just smiles at me and takes a bite of her food before speaking. “Hey, darling. I just transferred here and need new friends. Can I sit with you?” She asks.

The awkward part of me wants to point out how she's already sitting, but the logical part of me knows that's rude, and I'd probably just run her off. So, instead, I smile and nod.

“Of course! I'm Maeve.” I introduce.

This bombshell reaches across the table, offering me her hand, which I gladly take. “Shelby. I'm a literature major, what about you?” She asks sweetly.

I want to know where this girl is from. If she's not from Texas, she has a wonderful southern accent that has me convinced that Texas is her home.

But also, literature? That's not what I was picturing when she sat down. Maybe modeling, but I don't think that's a real major.

It should be, I'm convinced of that now because there's no way this girl is destined to be anything but a cover model.

Well, maybe nursing? I'm sure anyone would hurt themselves just to have her patch them up.

Crap, it's been too long since I've answered.

Say something…

“Botany.” I reply.

As we pick at our food, we sit in relative silence beyond a few questions Shelby asks about me.

Just your standard get-to-know-you questions, nothing too personal.

I always reciprocate her questions, but I'm not good at this stuff.

If she wanted to talk about the evolution of man, the inner workings of serial killers, conspiracy theories, aliens, or anything like that, I'd be down. But I can't just create small talk out of thin air like everyone else.

I don't even know how we managed it, but Shelby and I ended up sitting together for over an hour. The only thing that ended our talk was Shelby realizing she was about to miss her next class.

So, we exchanged numbers, and I promised I'd call her if I ever felt like bullriding.

Don't ask…

Apparently, it's fun, and it really gets the guy's attention.

I think I'll pass on that, but I'll gladly show up at whatever bar she's at and watch her get thrown off of a giant mechanical bull.

It sounds hilarious and kind of fun.

Shelby hugs me before she sprints off, making it both awkward and heartwarming when I realize that I finally made a friend on my own without Carlie's help.

I just hope Carlie will like her.