8. Nix
Nix
My skin feels… weird.
It’s not itchy. Or painful. It just feels… weird. Stimulated.
I grip the strap of my bag tighter and keep my attention on the walking path ahead of me.
Think about class.
Focus on the schedule.
Teach Ethics in Journalism at nine and eleven. Eat the cupcake that’s hopefully not getting squished in my bag. Review my notes for tomorrow. Go home. Finish the day figuring out how to perform an exorcism on myself.
Someone, presumably a professor, waves at me from across the stretch of lawn.
I loosen the grip I have on my bag and raise my hand in return, hoping my smile looks normal.
I’m positive it doesn’t.
My class doesn’t start for another hour. And I set up everything yesterday. But I woke up hours early, and even though I took as long as possible getting ready, I couldn’t spend any more time pacing my apartment.
But leaving stupid early did give me time to stop at the bakery I spotted yesterday, so there’s that.
My shin-length maroon skirt and gray cable-knit sweater might be a little prettier than what I need to wear. But it’s my first day. And it’s my birthday. So I wanted to dress up a bit.
But as a cool gust of wind blows my skirt around my calves, I’m glad the walk from the employee parking lot isn’t far.
Wonderfully warm air greets me as I step inside, but the temperature change sends a shiver skittering up my spine.
That’s all this weirdness is.
The weather.
Moving to a different state.
It’s the Midwest making my skin feel tight, nothing else.
I shake off the rest of the cold and reach into my bag for my key, easily finding the fuzzy pom-pom keychain I attached it to.
I refuse to be the substitute who loses the room key.
The gray skies outside make the room darker than yesterday. So I flip the light switch, and the overhead bulbs flicker once, then stay lit.
I cross to my desk and set my bag down, pulling out my thermos of coffee, my travel mug, and the small bakery box with a chocolate cherry cupcake inside.
I put the dessert in the top desk drawer, next to my extra pens, and pour myself a cup of coffee.
Then I wait.
It’s one minute after nine.
My roster says there should be ninety-two students in this class, and I tried counting as they entered the room, but I lost track somewhere around sixty.
Knowing it’s time, I pull in a deep breath and hold it for three seconds.
My pulse slows.
My mind calms.
And I stand and circle around to the front of my desk.
The kids who had been talking stop.
“Hi, I’m Nix.” I pause, wondering if I’m supposed to have them call me Ms. Novak, but it’s too late now.
“I’ll be filling in for Professor Drain for the rest of the semester.
My understanding is that you had assigned reading over the past two weeks of her absence.
” I reach back and pick up the textbook, bookmark already in place.
“We’re going to spend the hour covering the highlights.
Then I’ll tell you exactly what to study for the test Thursday.
” I lean back against my desk and open the book. “Let’s begin.”