-Tuesday-

The morning begins quietly, the dorm still wrapped in a sleepy hush. I wake up to soft light filtering through the blinds, painting gentle patterns on the walls. Isabella is already up, as usual, bustling around the kitchen area in our shared living space. The air smells of burnt toast, and I hear her muttering curses under her breath.

I rub my eyes and stretch, feeling the familiar mix of morning fatigue and anticipation for the day. Literature class is on my schedule, and even though I don't know anyone in it, I'm not as nervous as I might be. Literature has always felt like a space where stories and ideas matter more than social anxiety.

"Morning" Isabella calls, waving a piece of slightly charred toast in my direction. "Want some of this gourmet disaster?"

I laugh, pulling on a comfy oversized sweater and walking over to inspect the damage. "I'll pass, thanks. But A+ for effort."

She grins, smearing an absurd amount of peanut butter on the toast. "Fair. So, big plans today?"

I shrug, tying my hair into a loose ponytail. "Just classes. I've got my first lit class, which I'm actually excited about. It'll be nice to discuss something that isn't spreadsheets or dance routines for once."

"Excited about class?" Isabella mocks, her eyes wide with fake shock. "Who are you, and what did you do with Amber?"

I roll my eyes, grabbing a granola bar and my backpack. "Ha-ha. Some of us actually like school, you know."

She gives me a playful salute as I head out the door. "Go get 'em, bookworm. And don't come back with a tragic romance story—unless it's your own."

The walk to campus is peaceful, the early fall air crisp and refreshing. Leaves are just starting to turn, hints of orange and gold peeking through the green. The breeze carries the scent of damp earth and freshly brewed coffee from the nearby café. I take my time, enjoying the feeling of anticipation buzzing quietly in my chest. It's one of those days where everything feels just a little more manageable.

When I get to the literature building, I can already hear the lively chatter from the classrooms. I step into the lit classroom, and it feels warm and inviting. The walls are lined with literary quotes scrawled in elegant script and old posters from plays and author talks. There's a cluster of books on the professor's desk, their spines well-loved and worn, and the room smells faintly of paper and ink.

I find a seat in the middle, trying to strike the perfect balance between blending in and being part of the class. The other students are chatting animatedly, catching up after summer break or exchanging notes. There's a hum of energy that makes me feel hopeful, not nervous, for once.

Our professor, a tall man with a wild mop of curly hair and round glasses that he keeps pushing up his nose, claps his hands to get our attention. "Welcome, everyone! I'm Professor Ray. Let's dive right in, shall we? We're starting off with a bang—a project!"

I can't help but grin. The word "project" sends a spark of excitement through me, not dread. I love literature projects, and I'm already thinking of ideas when Professor Ray announces that we'll be working in small groups to analyze a story of our choice, something with rich themes and symbolism.

I glance around, wondering who I might work with, when a girl with blonde hair in a messy bun turns to me. Her eyes are a striking gray, and she has a friendly, mischievous smile. "Hey," she says, "do you need a group?"

Relieved, I nod. "Yes, please. Thanks. I'm Amber." She said shyly.

"Awesome, I'm Celeste," she says, and she gestures to two guys who are joining us. One of them is tall and muscular, with wavy blond hair and an easy grin that makes him look like he hasn't a care in the world. "This is Kyle," Celeste introduces, and Kyle gives me a lazy salute.

"Welcome to the best lit group in existence," he jokes. "We've done nothing yet, but I'm calling it."

The other guy, Wes, is a bit shorter, with sharp green eyes and a leather jacket that makes him look like he belongs in a rock band. He leans against the desk, arms crossed, but there's a hint of a smile. "Wes," he says, nodding at me. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you both," I say, feeling more at ease. The group's vibe is laid-back but welcoming.

"So," Celeste says, pulling out a notebook covered in doodles, "we were thinking of doing our project on The Little Prince. It's a classic, and there's so much symbolism we can dissect. What do you think?"

My face lights up. The Little Prince has always been one of my favorite stories, and the thought of analyzing it with a group makes me feel even more excited. "I love that idea," I say, trying not to sound too eager. "There's so much depth to it, even though it's a children's book."

Kyle raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest. "Perfect. I read it once and got super emotional about the whole fox thing. Like, I may have cried, but don't quote me on that."

Wes smirks. "The fox and the rose thing got me too," he admits. "But if I have to read more poetic metaphors about love, I'm going to need emotional support."

We all laugh, and the conversation flows easily as we brainstorm ideas. Celeste has an infectious energy, bouncing from idea to idea, keeping us engaged. Kyle cracks jokes that make us all laugh, but he also adds thoughtful observations that catch me off guard. Wes, despite his rocker look, has surprisingly deep insights, though he sprinkles in sarcastic comments that keep things from getting too serious.

As the class wraps up, Celeste claps her hands together. "So, when should we meet tomorrow to get started? I'm thinking afternoon?"

I hesitate, knowing my packed schedule is going to make things complicated. "I have dance practice right after school," I say, a bit sheepishly. "And then I teach a ballet class to kids in the evening. So late afternoon is best."

Kyle's eyes widened, impressed. "Whoa, are you a full-time dancer or something?"

"Kind of," I admit, laughing. "But I'm also a full-time exhausted person."

Wes raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "You teach kids ballet? How do you even have the energy?"

I shrug, smiling. "I drink a lot of coffee. And sometimes, I question my life choices."

Celeste laughs, pushing up her glasses. "Alright, so how about six o'clock at the library? That way, Amber can still make her dance commitments and we can start planning our epic Little Prince project."

I nod, grateful for their flexibility. "Six at the library works perfectly. And I promise I won't show up in a tutu or anything."

Kyle grins. "Aw, man, I was hoping for a full ballet performance."

Wes smirks. "As long as you don't pirouette through the bookshelves, we're good."

We all laugh again, and as we start to gather our things, Celeste turns to me. "Hey, Amber, can I get your number? I'll text you the details in case anything changes."

"Sure," I say, pulling out my phone. We exchange numbers, and Celeste types mine in with a flourish.

"Awesome," she says. "Now we're officially organized—or as organized as we can be, anyway."

I smile, feeling a new sense of connection. I walked into this class alone, but I'm leaving with a group of new friends and a project that actually excites me.

—-

The rest of the evening stretches out before me, but even the familiar comforts of our dorm—my cozy blanket, Isabella's cheerful presence, and the mindless chatter of reality TV—can't completely distract me from the worry gnawing at my insides. Tomorrow, I'll be facing my Advanced Spanish class, and the thought feels like a storm cloud hanging over me, heavy and unrelenting.

I curl up on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to focus on the show playing on the muted TV. Isabella, sitting beside, notices my fidgeting. She pauses the TV and looks at me with concern.

"Amber," she says softly, turning toward me, "if you keep squirming like that, you're going to give yourself a stress cramp. What's going on?"

I sigh, sinking further into the couch. "It's still the Spanish class," I admit. "I can't stop thinking about it. I was supposed to be in the beginners' class, you know? But because it was full, I got bumped up to the advanced one, and now I'm terrified I'm going to walk in tomorrow and everyone will be fluent, and I'll be sitting there like, 'Hola... ¿qué?'"

Isabella's eyes widened in sympathy. "Oh, man. That does sound stressful. But listen, you're not the first person to be thrown into the deep end. And it's okay to feel scared. Seriously."

I bite my lip, the knot in my stomach tightening. "I just... hate feeling unprepared, you know? Spanish is already so hard for me. I didn't grow up with it, and conjugating verbs makes me feel like my brain is doing acrobatics. What if the professor calls on me and I completely freeze? Or worse, what if I say something embarrassing, like asking how to eat a library instead of asking for directions?"

Isabella snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. "Okay, I'm sorry, but that would be hilarious. Imagine: '¿Cómo se come la biblioteca?' That would be iconic."

I can't help but laugh, even though the anxiety is still gnawing at me. "Glad to know you'd be entertained by my public humiliation."

Her expression softens, and she sets her ice cream tub aside, leaning forward. "But seriously, Amber. It's okay to be nervous. And it's okay to mess up. Professors understand that students are learning, especially in a language class. And you're not alone. Everyone else will probably be freaking out about their own mistakes, too."

Her words make sense, but the pressure in my chest doesn't ease. Isabella must notice because her face turns more thoughtful, almost wistful. "You know," she says, her voice softer, "I get the whole pressure thing. My family expects me to be perfect—like, perfect grades, perfect internships, the whole deal. They have this vision of me as some future CEO, and I feel like I can't afford to slip up."

I look at her, surprised. Isabella, the girl who always seems so carefree and confident, deals with that kind of pressure? "Izzy, I had no idea it was that intense," I say, feeling a pang of sympathy.

She gives me a small, sad smile. "Yeah, it's a lot. And sometimes it feels suffocating. But I'm trying to remind myself that I don't have to be perfect. It's okay to make mistakes. It's hard, but I'm working on it."

Her vulnerability takes me by surprise, and I reach over to squeeze her hand. "You're amazing, you know that? Even with all that pressure, you're still one of the strongest people I know."

She squeezes back, her smile growing more genuine. "Thanks, Amber. But you're strong too. Seriously. You're facing this Spanish class even though you're terrified, and that's brave."

There's a moment of quiet understanding between us, and I feel a bit of the weight lift. Then, Isabella's eyes light up, and she grins, her mood shifting. "Speaking of stress and college life, guess who has a new crush?"

I sit up, intrigued, grateful for the distraction. "Wait, what? You have a crush? It's only been two days ! Who is it?"

Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks almost shy—a rare sight for Isabella. "His name is Blake," she admits, her voice brimming with excitement. "He's in my business class. He's got this annoyingly perfect smile, and he's always asking the smartest questions during lectures. He even started a discussion about sustainable business practices the other day, and I swear, I almost swooned."

I burst out laughing, my anxiety momentarily forgotten. "Wow, you've got it bad. A crush on a smart, sustainability-conscious business major? Sounds like a perfect match."

She covers her face with her hands, groaning. "Ugh, I know! It's so annoying. How am I supposed to focus on supply chain management when he's sitting right there, being all... perfect?"

I laugh harder, feeling some of the tension drain from my body. "Maybe you should start a study group. You know, under the guise of 'academic collaboration.'"

She drops her hands, her eyes lighting up. "You're a genius. An academic study group that just so happens to include Blake? I'm doing it. But only if you promise to help me come up with a strategic plan."

I grin, shaking my head. "Of course. Operation Study Group Crush is a go."

Isabella laughs, but then she turns serious again, her expression softening. "But really, Amber, if there's one thing I've learned from dealing with my family's expectations, it's that it's okay to stumble. We don't have to have it all together. And honestly, when we do mess up, it just makes for a better story later. Like me embarrassing myself in front of Blake. It'll be legendary."

Her words resonate deeply, and I feel a wave of gratitude for her friendship. "Thanks, Izzy. I really needed to hear that."

She nudges me playfully. "Anytime, Dancing Queen. And remember: if the Spanish class is a complete disaster, we'll debrief over ice cream, and I'll make you laugh until you forget about it."

The thought of ice cream therapy and Isabella's unwavering support does make me feel a little better. We spent the rest of the evening watching the TV show, laughing at the ridiculous drama of rich real estate agents fighting over granite countertops. For a while, I forget about my nerves.

Later, as I get ready for bed, I find myself thinking about Isabella's words. I towel-dry my hair, put on my pajamas, and crawl under my blankets. The knot in my stomach is still there, but it's softened, wrapped in the comfort of friendship and the realization that I'm not alone. Mistakes are part of life, and maybe, just maybe, I'll survive tomorrow's class one awkward Spanish word at a time.

—---------------------------

Thank you for joining Amber on her first day of literature class in Chapter Four! 📚✨ Navigating new classes, meeting unexpected project partners, and trying to keep her nerves in check—it's all just the beginning of her semester adventure.

If you enjoyed the chapter, please give it a vote or leave a comment! I love hearing your thoughts, theories, or even just your favorite part. And don't forget to add the book to your library if you haven't already—Amber's story is only getting started, and there's so much more to come!

Thanks for reading, and see you in Chapter Five! 💖