The weekend flew by faster than I would've liked. In about...an hour I would have my first class, and to say that I was nervous was a little bit of an understatement. I was already in terms of supplies since me, Claire, and Pietro took a ride to a nearby Staples and the campus bookstore to pick up supplies and out books for class. Sunday was more of a relax day. Me and Claire talked some more and even hung out around campus learning the lay of land and afterwards met up with Pietro after his run. He hung around a few other guys who were clearly athletes and wouldn't stop saying the word "bro." According to Claire, he's a "douche-bag bro boy," though I'm not sure what that means; all I know is that he started to annoy her with all the "bro-talk."

I stood by my desk, placing my notebooks and textbooks that I needed for the day into my bookbag when I heard Claire wake up and roll over, letting out a loud and sad groan that almost resembled a scream.

"Uggghhhh! Why is it so fucking early?! Why is it Monday?! Why am I here?!"

I chuckled at her as I continued to pack up my stuff, crossing the room to grab extra stuff that I might need and smacking her lightly with a pillow to make her get up. She muttered a guttural groan as she sat up and rubbed her face aggressively with her hands. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed and grabbing her towel and shower caddy, she left the room, groaning as she walked down the hall as she entered the communal bathroom.

I grabbed my bag and headphones and left the room, exiting the dorm. Walking outside, I pulled out my schedule and looked over my class list and the buildings that they were in. The air was cool, but still warm and the sun peaked through the leaves of the trees, casting bright yellow light on the white sidewalks.

The streets were filled with bustling students who were in a hurry to get their morning coffee before their class. I passed the campus coffee shop, and looking in the window, I saw the long line of tired and thirsty students and was grateful that the taste of coffee didn't agree with me.

I entered the class room and took a seat in the front though off the side close to the wall. There were already a few other students in the room, and not long after I got there, the professor entered and set up their stuff and engaged with a few students while they waited for class to start.

○○○

"Hey! Wanda!" I turned my head and took out one of my headphones. I smiled when I saw Claire's familiar red hair running towards me.

"Hi."

Claire breathed hard as she caught up to me, slouching over to catch her breath. I chuckled at her and grasped her shoulder lightly. She looked up at me and let out a deep breath that was a mix between a laugh and a scoff.

"What are you doing here? Isn't it too early for you to be outside?" I asked her with a laugh. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You know it's after 1:00 right?"

I laughed and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. She blushed too and let out a nervous cough.

"Yeah it's just...you're more of a night owl than an early bird..."

"Actually, I'm more of what the memers call an 'afternoon pigeon.'" I shook my head at her as I laughed again and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"Where are you headed?" I asked her as we started walking. She returned the action and I felt her arm wrap around my back.

"I don't know. I'm finished with class so I was probably gonna grab another coffee or maybe lunch and head back to the room. Where are you going?"

"I think I'll go to the library and try to get some writing done before the workload gets too much," I said, pulling away a little as we moved to walk in different directions. I felt resistance on Claire's end as I pulled away, and I could've sworn I heard her whimper? a little.

"I can come with you...if you want me to, that is?" Claire said in more of a question, slowing down a bit as to not seem too eager. I smiled and tilted my head down, hiding behind my hair.

We walked the short distance to the library and entering, we sat at a table together. I took out my laptop and a notebook, opening it to a page with many scribbles and messy handwriting. Claire pulled out a book and opened it to her current page but paused reading when she saw my notebook. She stared at the messy pages and furrowed her brows, presumably trying to make sense of the incoherent words.

"What is this?" she asked. I looked down at the notebook and turned it towards her so she could see it a little better.

"It's just something that I wrote one day; it's nothing—"

I reached out for the book, becoming self-conscious; no one read my stuff before. Claire cut me off by holding up a finger and holding the book in her hand, close to her face. Her purple? eyes scanned over the words of the poem and her mouth hung open a little as she read.

"'But...one day that all ended. The kitchen walls painted white were no more. The painted red apples were now nothing but ash. The scent of apple pie now burned the air. The comfort was gone. Our laughter no longer filled the house. All that was left was an eerie silence.' Woah. You wrote this?"

My cheeks flared with heat and I looked away, hiding behind my long hair again, a beaming smile gracing my face.

"I...love this," she said in...amazement? "You're like an amazing writer, Wanda. Like seriously, you could probably submit this to be published or something, it's that good."

The heat in my face increased and I could only imagine how red my face actually was. I probably looked like horrendous. I looked down and tucked some hair behind my ear and bit my lower lip.

"Yo—You really like it?"

I couldn't believe it. Someone liked my work; Claire liked my work. Was she...was she serious? Certainly she didn't mean it. She was just trying to be nice to me? She didn't have to lie for my sake. She looked at me with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look.

"Dude, I don't just like it; I love it."

I saw her cheeks flush a bright pink as we locked eyes after she finished reading my poem. She really liked it. My smile grew and spread to my ears, causing my cheeks to ache. I turned on my computer and Claire scooted over in her seat, sitting in the chair next to me rather than across from me. She closed her book and put it down, staring at the screen as it turned on. As I opened the Word document of my current project and looked over the word, trying to get back in the rhythm, Claire read the latest paragraph.

"Is there more?" she asked, looking at me. I smiled and scrolled up to the first page and turned the computer towards her. She smiled as her eyes danced across the screen, her hand scrolling the page down when she finished.

She stared at the screen, hardly blinking as she read the first few pages of the story I was writing. Her eyes widened at certain parts of the story and she laughed at others. When she finished, she turned the computer back towards me and looked back at me with a surprised face. I chuckled at her and looked down at the keyboard with a smile.

"So...I take it you liked it?" I asked her in a nervous voice, afraid of hearing real criticism despite I would love nothing more than to have it given to me. Claire's surprised look changed back to her dumbfounded look from a few minutes ago.

"Dude, this is the greatest thing I've ever read!"

"Quiet!" the librarian scolded in a harsh voice as she shushed us. Claire looked away, her cheeks brightening. I looked away and stared at the screen.

"I'm glad you like it," I whispered as I glanced at her, catching her eyes and quickly looking away, my face heating up. She smiled and her blush darkened.

"I mean this when I say it, but Wanda, you have some real talent. Have you ever submitted anything before?"

"Uh...no I haven't. I've been meaning to and I know I should, but I've never had anyone read my stuff before, so I'm a little scared of rejection."

"Maybe you should consider it. I don't mean to pressure you, but I think you have a good chance of getting published or something. Is there anyone that you can talk to about this just to get more information?" she asked me.

Through some research in the school directory we discovered that there was a professor on campus that specialized in creative writing. We found her office number and hours, sent her a quick email asking if I could meet with her to talk, and waited for her to respond. We waited for a while for a response, and in the meantime, I tried to take my mind off it by getting some writing done and Claire went back to her book. I sighed and threw my head in my hands, grasping some of my hair. Claire looked up at me, put her book down and moved her chair closer to me, leaning in close.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. I picked my head up and looked into her purple colored eyes and sighed again.

"Yeah," I sighed. I couldn't tear my eyes off hers; they were mesmerizing and seemed to glisten in the fluorescent lights of the library. I watched as her cheeks turned a darker red and her eyes shift down to the table, away from my gaze. "How did you get your eyes that color?" Claire played with her hair, tucking a few strands of curls behind her ear. Her smile turned into a cheeky grin and her purple eyes twinkled at the attention.

"It's just contacts." She reached up and took her contacts out revealing bright crystal blue eyes. The light struck her sky blue eyes and the blueness shimmered like a tropical sea in the light of afternoon sun. I saw the bright blue sky on a summer day or deep caverns full glistening sapphires. She bit her bottom lip as she tried to hide her smile and cleared her throat, blushing more. "Wanda? You okay? I think you spaced out a bit."

I snapped out of my trance and looked away from her gaze, looking back at my computer and chuckling nervously said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

"It's fine," she muttered through her bit lip. Silence feel between us as we both went back to our original activities.

A little while later, my phone buzzed with an alert for an incoming email. I sighed and checked my phone, 100% believing that it was going to be for something stupid like junk mail but gasped a little when I read it.

"What is it?" Claire asked, looking up from her book once more. I shoved my phone in her face to let her read the email.

"She got back to me."

"Wow. So when are you meeting with her?"

I glanced back down at my phone, reading the email again.

"She said 10:30 works for her and I don't have class at that time, so I guess 10:30."

"Well, good luck dude. I'm sure she'll love your shit. You know I do," Claire said with an encouraging voice as she turned back to her book, the deep red of her blush spreading down her neck and to her ears. When she wasn't looking, I smiled at her and turned to my computer, my own certain blush taking a similar form.

○○○

I sat in the waiting room outside her office, bouncing my foot anxiously as I waited for her to finish up with her current meeting. Every ticking second of the clock only fueled my anxiety. I wasn't good with meeting new people, and even the very idea of doing so sent my heart into a downward spiral of overreacting, awkwardness, and nervousness. Suddenly, the sound of a door opening and the growing sound of voices perked my from my anxious thoughts and I turned my head to the left to see a young average height woman with dark auburn hair leading a male student out of her office, the both of them laughing before he said good-bye and went on his way.

The woman, still smiling, looked at me and said, "Are you waiting to see someone?"

"Uh yes, I'm here to see you actually..."

Her smile grew a little brighter and became more genuine as her shoulders slumped a little as she seemed to relax in her stance.

"You must be Wanda. Come on it, I don't bite," she said, stretching her arm out, directing me into her large office. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as she closed the door and stepped around me to sit on a black leather couch against the wall across from the door. "Have a seat, Wanda. Relax and stay a while."

I sat on the couch next to her and patted my knees, already feeling the awkwardness settle in, even though there was no reason to feel like this. She sent me a small smile which eased my nerves and folded her hands together and placed them in her lap as she scooted to the end of the couch.

"So, Wanda, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, Professor Barnes, I—"

"Oh, please call me Jemma. I never really liked the title of 'professor.' It's too...much I think," Jemma said with a bright smile and a wave of her hand.

"Okay, Jemma. I just um..." I opened my bag and pulled out my notebook and laptop, handing her the book while I opened the document of my story. "I was just trying to get some information on publishing? Maybe some feedback from someone more...professional?"

Jemma opened to the first page and read the lines of the different poems that were written, smiling after each one. She read quickly, flipping the pages every couple of seconds, and when she came to the last thing written, she looked back up at me with a smile. She even wiped away a small tear that slowly escaped her brown eyes.

"You wrote these? Like they're all original?" she asked me.

"Yeah...they're all mine from different points in my life."

"Wanda these are amazing and raw. The language is spectacular and invokes such powerful emotions. There's a confidence here that is hard to see in real life and it's clear to see that you use writing as a way to communicate emotion."

Jemma handed me back the notebook. I clutched it close to me, holding it close to my heart. I didn't make it a habit to have anyone read my work, especially my poetry. Not even Pietro read it—in fact, I'm not even sure he knew I wrote poetry. A lot of my poems were written after my parents died so they always seemed too edgy and depressing to share with others. No one wanted to read about a sad girl's feelings.

"Have you ever gotten feedback from anyone before?" she asked. I rubbed my arm and shifted in my seat.

"No. Well, other than my roommate, no. I didn't really like the idea of someone reading them. They're really personal, so the thought of an outside person reading them made me uncomfortable and a little embarrassed." Jemma gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I understand how that is. Believe me, when I was your age, I too was afraid to put myself out there," she explained, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"What made you do it?"

"Well—"

"Hey Jemma Bean, sorry I'm late. Traffic was horrible and Delmar's was cray-ze! I've—oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in a meeting," an unknown woman with short black hair and blue eyes said as she opened the door to Jemma's office and walked in but paused when she saw me sitting on the black leather couch. Jemma chuckled, a red tint spreading on her cheeks, and stood up, walking over to the woman, kissing her cheek and her lips before taking a white plastic bag from her hands.

"It's fine, babe. Come in," Jemma said, pulling the woman inside the office. She placed the bag on her desk and grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and placed it across from the couch in front of me.

"Jem, I can come back. I don't want to interrupt," the woman said as she looked over at me. I shifted in my seat once more and hugged the notebook tighter to me. Personally, I didn't want to talk about my writing in front of a stranger. Which...in retrospect, I was already doing that by talking to Jemma. How about, I didn't want to talk about my writing in front of a stranger. The woman took a seat in the chair in front of me and held out her hand.

"Hey, how are you? I'm Lily."

"Wanda," I replied, grasping her hand and giving it a shake. She smiled at me and sat back in her seat.

"Wanda if you have any more pieces you want me to read, just email them to me, and if you want, we can get together once a week to talk and go over some things? If you want," Jemma said as she moved to the bag, taking out two sandwiches, two bags of chips, and two bottles of iced tea, placing them on the desk.

"Yeah sure, I wouldlike that," I said as I put my stuff back into my bag before standing up andleaving her office and heading back to my room.