11
If I had to guess how people would describe me, I think they’d say ‘confident’, but my secret motto is fake it until you make it.
No one knows that deep down I’m a sweating mess on the inside, especially when walking into a new environment.
I pull out the printed map Abi gave me weeks ago and follow it, easily finding where I’m supposed to go.
I slip into the classroom and look for a spare seat.
The first one I see is next to a guy with long, greasy hair, whose eyes look a little hazy.
I just know that the smell of him will distract me, and that’s the last thing I need.
I keep scanning until I find a seat surrounded by giggling girls.
Great. Time for me to put on my Queen B smile.
“This seat taken?” I flick my hair over my shoulder.
“No, not at all,” the first girl says, moving her bag to let me through.
“Thanks. I’m Luna.”
“Ginger,” the girl replies with a smile.
“And this is Britney, Bella and Lacey.” She points her perfectly manicured finger towards each of the girls in her crew.
Aware of the state of my chewed nails, I attempt to hide them from sight, force a confident smile and say hello, instantly forgetting their names in the process.
I hope I don’t have to spend the rest of the class with this dumb look on my face, but I’ve found it’s better to blend into new surroundings, even if that means that I have to alter myself a little to do it.
Abi is the only one I’ve ever let close enough to see the real me.
After my mother left, Dad sent me to talk to someone, well, not someone.
Lots of someones. As soon as he didn’t see the results he was looking for, he switched to a therapist that he thought would do things a little more his way.
Dr Weiss was my first out of four therapists, and she was my favourite.
I remember Dad grilling her, his voice impatient as he checked his watch for the third time.
“But what do we do to fix her?” Dad questioned, his American accent growing thicker along with his irritation. I looked down at my fingers, picking at the sore, dry skin, causing it to bleed and welcomed the stinging sensation as it removed me from reality.
“Fix her?” Dr Weiss asked, placing her notepad and pen on the table beside her.
I felt her eyes on me, watching me pick at my fingers.
I stopped myself, but almost immediately, the familiar metallic taste of blood hit my tongue.
It was only then that I realised I was chewing on the dry, cracked skin of my fingers. Dad clenched his hands into fists.
“Yes, fix her! Something is wrong with her.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Clark, but your daughter does not need to be fixed, and language like that can be very harmful.
She has experienced trauma, her mother leaving abruptly at such a young age.
She needs to heal, and we can help her heal, in time, with regular therapy in a supportive environment,” Dr Weiss replied.
It was interesting to watch someone stand up to Dad and hold their ground. I’d never seen it before.
“You’re telling me that it’s normal for a ten-year-old girl to draw pictures of her absent mother day after day, sticking them up around the house and talking to them as if she is there?
She won’t let me tuck her into bed because the drawing of her mother holding a book is reading her a story.
She doesn’t want to play with her friends because she’s playing restaurant with a picture she’s drawn of her mother drinking a cup of tea!
This is crazy.” Dad thumped his fist into the arm of the couch, startling me.
He reached for my hands, smacking my fingers in an attempt to make me stop picking at them.
“And this.” He pointed to my bleeding fingernails. “This picking at her fingers until they bleed. This is not normal.”
“I understand that you’re worried, Mr Clark, but we need to remember that we’re here for Luna.
We can work together to help ease her discomfort and get to the bottom of her trauma, and in turn, you will see the behaviours that you find worrying disperse, in time,” Dr Weiss concluded, standing from her chair, signalling that the session was over.
As I grew older, I got better at showing people the version of me that they liked, the one no one worried about.
As for the drawings of my mother, I saw how much it was upsetting Dad, so I stopped drawing her.
I took down all the pictures I had done and threw them away, thinking Dad would be happy with me again.
But he seemed concerned, even fearful, when I would do anything artistic after that.
His anxiety spread to me, so I stopped drawing altogether. It’s better this way.
As I sit here in class, listening to the excited giggles of my new clique, I start pulling out my books and find myself giggling along with them.
The lecturer walks into the class, placing his things down on the table at the front.
He approaches a student in the first row to give him a paper to hand out.
That is why I never sit in the front. I’m about to pull out my phone to check if Abi has messaged me when the door to the lecture hall opens.
A girl enters. She has chestnut curly hair, deep, dark eyes and a smooth, tanned face.
It doesn’t look like she’s wearing any makeup, but her complexion is stunning.
She has a natural glow to her, and when she smiles apologetically to the lecturer, she reveals a big, toothy grin that takes my breath away.
I sit up straighter so I can watch her a little longer.
She scans the room to find the only spare seat left and approaches the guy who stinks like weed.
I’m disappointed when she turns away to face the front of the room, that is, until I see her beautiful, round ass.
Holy shit, how is it fair to be that attractive?
For the rest of the class, I try my best to take notes, but can’t seem to tear my attention away from the back of the mystery girl’s head.
“Where are you going next?” Ginger asks as the lecture finishes, snatching my course schedule from my hands.
“I think economics.”
“Shoot, we’re off to marketing. But here’s my phone, put your number in and I’ll text you,” she instructs, passing me a bright yellow sparkly phone along with my schedule.
I do as she says then pass back her phone, say goodbye and pull my map out again to look for my next class.
I wish we had been going to the same class because now I’m going to have to find someone else to sit with and start this whole process over again.
“Did I hear you’re heading to economics?”
I spin around to see the gorgeous girl with curly dark hair in front of me.
She’s just as beautiful close up as she was from across the room.
Her large eyes instantly make me want to divulge all of my secrets.
My curiosity is piqued further having heard her voice; she has a slight accent that I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Hi. Yes. Economics. That’s me,” I ramble, trying to collect my thoughts. Her beauty is so distracting. I never get lost for words like this. What’s wrong with me? She shoots me her wide, toothy grin.
“Nice to meet you, Economics. Would you want to sit together?” she asks, a brief look of uncertainty on her face. I can tell she doesn’t do this often.
I want nothing more than to get to know her, but I also don’t want to come off too eager. I pretend to think it over. She looks down at the ground, the olive skin on her flawless face blushing slightly. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I do my best to play it cool. “Sure. Why not? My name is Luna, by the way.”
She turns and begins to walk in the direction of our next class. I chase after her, suddenly not feeling so cool.
“I’m Gaia,” she responds, slowing down her pace for me to catch up.
At lunch, I find myself sitting on a wooden bench seat under a beautiful sycamore tree with Gaia. She hands me half of a sandwich.
“I’m sorry, this is all I have.” She moves the things around in her bag to check to see if she has anything else to offer me.
“Why are you saying sorry? You’re the one feeding me.”
“Sorry,” she says again nervously. Her accent is thicker when she’s self-conscious, and it makes me curious.
“Where’s your accent from?”
“I was born in Greece. My family came here when I was two, but we moved back a couple of years ago. When I was deciding where I wanted to go to school, I knew I wanted to come back to Australia. I applied for a few study abroad programs, managed to get a scholarship, and here I am,” she says with a smile, looking down at her half of the sandwich.
“I know you only asked where I was from, but I thought I’d save you from asking the next logical question,” she says with a laugh.
It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“Well, I grew up a few hours away from here. I lived with my best friend’s family about 80% of the time while my dad was away for work, and I hate cashews. I know you didn’t ask, but seeing as we’re answering questions without them being asked, I thought I’d jump in,” I tease.
“Where do you live now?” she asks, tucking a thick curly lock behind her ear.
“My best friend, Abi, and I live in an apartment building for university students a few blocks away.”
“You mean that big building with the courtyard? I tried to get in there, but I was too late.”
“Yep, that’s the one. Where did you end up?”
“Not too far from you, actually, and I got a job at that Greek restaurant over on Lygon Street, just up from where you live.”
“I’ve been meaning to check that place out.”
Truth is, I’ve never noticed it, but now that I know that she works there, I have a feeling I will become their most loyal customer.
She smiles, and I do my best to pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat.
As her gaze drifts across the quad, I take the opportunity to make sure I don’t have any food in my teeth before her sultry eyes find their way back to me, causing a soft flutter in my stomach.
It’s hard to describe the way I’m feeling, it’s all so confusing.
I was settling in, trying to find my groove, and now Gaia has thrown me off.
Her gorgeous smile and intoxicating laugh have drawn me in, and I’m not sure I ever want to look at another person’s lips for the rest of my life.
My thoughts are steadied as she places her hand on my forearm.
She laughs at something I said. I can’t even remember what it was, but it must be funny to earn a laugh like that.
“We have to go. The next lecture is starting in ten minutes,” she says, looking down at her watch. She jumps off the bench and turns back to look at me. Class is the last place I want to be, but I would follow this girl anywhere.
“I’m going to take a guess and assume there’s nothing I can say to get you to ditch on the first day?”
“No,” she says flatly. Beautiful and a nerd, interesting.
A nervous laugh escapes me, and I attempt to mask it by clearing my throat. “Probably for the best. My dad would rake me over the coals if I missed class.”
Gaia looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “How would he know?”
“He’s always watching, one way or another. He knew I didn’t want to enrol in this course, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he has someone keeping tabs on me today.”
“If you don’t have an interest in the course, what made you choose business?”
“I didn’t. He chose it for me.” It’s a simple answer, but it’s the truth, and for the first time, I’m happy that I let him. Gaia looks at me with a tsunami of pity, and if I let it, I fear that I’ll be swept away.
“I’m used to it,” I shrug. “Look at the bright side. If I had been allowed to choose a different degree, I never would have met you.”
I watch carefully for her reaction. She’s either going to get awkward and change the subject, which means she’s not interested, and the only reason she shared her sandwich with me is because she wants to sit with someone other than the smelly guy.
Or she’s going to blush, look away, then those beautiful dark eyes are going to peer up at me through her long lashes, and she’s going to smile.
I wait impatiently. Each step we take towards the building feels like a marathon.
Her cheeks slowly begin to flush a light shade of pink, and then, there it is. She innocently peers up at me.