Chapter Text
(Content warning: Depressive/suicidal thoughts)
Prologue - Scarlett
With a deep sigh, Scarlett’s head grew even heavier as it rested against her hand. With her elbow propped against the backpack on her desk, this was the closest thing to a pillow she could make without fully giving up and putting her head down completely. Her hand pushed against her cheek harder and harder as her eyelids drooped, and she briefly glanced at the clock over the classroom door. Lecture had only started ten minutes ago, and it already felt like hours had passed.
Mr. Hendrickson had a special talent for taking even the most interesting subject matter and turning it into dry, flavorless mush. It was like listening to paint dry, and she’d never once managed to stay awake during his class. At the moment, his back was turned to the class, and the bald spot on the back of his head rhythmically bobbed up and down as he wrote something on the whiteboard.
Scarlett blinked once, twice, and when she opened them the third time, Mr. Hendrickson had moved to the other side of the board, which had miraculously been completely filled in with random names and dates.
Thank fuck. At the speed he writes, that means class is probably almost over.
Looking back towards the clock over the exit, she found her prayers answered. Nearly an hour had passed, which meant the end of her school day was only minutes away. As Mr. Hendrickson started summing up his points, all the students surrounding Scarlett began packing up their things, which led the teacher to raise his voice and speak over the commotion.
“Now, don’t forget, your group projects are due in just under a month! Make sure you’re communicating with your team, there’s still plenty of time to coordinate your sections,” he announced.
Which project is this again?
After spending nearly an entire second attempting to remember the details of this assignment, Scarlett’s thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a bell. She jumped to her feet, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and began racing to the door. Moments away from freedom, however, a group of students stepped in front of her path. They all stared at Scarlett with an annoying mix of determination and bitchiness, though none more so than the girl leading the charge. She wore a simple white blouse mostly covered by her bulky letterman jacket, high-waisted jeans, and long dangly earrings that always clattered when she turned her head. If memory served, this girl had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in experimenting outside of that relationship; a true shame given her impressive rack.
“Scarlett. You still haven’t checked in with us regarding your part of the project! How far have you gotten? Have you read through our notes to make sure our sections line up?” the girl asked, barely concealing her frustration.
“Uh, yeah, it’s going great. I’m like, halfway done. Look, when you all are finished, just send me what you’ve got, then I’ll throw it all together and turn it in! That way you don’t have to bother with all that annoying editing.”
The girl, whose name still eluded Scarlett, rolled her eyes. “That’s not good enough. You need to send us what you have! Keep in mind there are only five of us, and each section is worth twenty percent of the project. If we don’t have a chance to coordinate every detail of this project, it’s going to—”
“Oh my god, fine, I’ll take care of it” Scarlett said with a heavy sigh. Miraculously, her halfhearted agreement seemed to placate the girls, and they turned around to leave while not-so-subtly talking shit about her. Completely unfazed by their gossip, Scarlett instead turned her attention to the girl’s ass, wondering what kind of sport would give her such a phenomenal backside.
What’s her fucking problem? Even if I skip my section, we all still get a B, maybe a C at worst. Ugh, at least I’ve still got a month to figure out this stupid project. Wait, is it a month? Eh, whatever.
With classes now over, Scarlett pulled out her phone and started digging through her socials and messages while she lazily walked home. There wasn’t an ounce of expediency in her body as she walked; the only thing waiting back at her dorm was a crappy work apron eager to remind her of tonight’s shift at The Coffee Place. Of all the places she could be stuck working, it was hardly the worst job on campus. She got tons of free coffee—at least on the days her coworkers didn’t catch her making extra drinks—and it paid enough to cover most of her needs. With that money, it would be significantly harder to find the good booze. She had a few suppliers that were willing to trade drinks for sex, but none of them were very good in the sack.
As Scarlett pushed open the door to her dorm, she kicked off her shoes and threw her backpack onto the couch. After joining her backpack on the couch, she used it as a pillow while she continued digging through social media for any hints of good parties happening over the weekend.
“Oh, good afternoon to you as well, Scarlett,” said a feminine voice laced with sarcasm. This was Amelia, Scarlett’s roommate, and she spoke from behind the laptop propped up on a small desk in the corner of the dorm.
“Hey.”
“Did you have fun last night?” Amelia asked.
“Eh, it was fine I guess,” Scarlett mumbled. “Eight out of ten for looks, but probably a five for skills. You’d think someone with a tongue piercing would be better at using it.”
Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose as she sighed “Oh my god… Okay, one, her name is Lola. She’s not a fucking number, or a notch on your bedpost or whatever.”
“Oh my god, no one actually does that anymore. What is this, the eighties?” Scarlett laughed, conveniently choosing to leave out the presence of a list of names on her phone. It was way more modern than using a stupid bedpost.
“Two, what have I said about bringing girls home on a school night?” Amelia yelled, throwing a pillow across the room and hitting Scarlett’s leg. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep when you’re screaming and moaning your head off?!”
“I do, actually,” Scarlett confessed. “You’ve brought it up before.”
“Then cut it out already!”
Instead of justifying her roommate’s outburst with a response, Scarlett instead checked the time on her phone. Her shift had started five minutes ago, which she normally wouldn’t have cared about, but at the moment dealing with work sounded better than dealing with Amelia screaming her head off. Sliding off the couch, Scarlett shoved her shoes back on, grabbed her apron, and walked out the door.
Halfway to work, her phone buzzed twice, which meant she’d just gotten a text. She excitedly pulled it up, then rolled her eyes upon seeing it was just her sister again. No need to bother responding to that one.
Instead, she shoved her phone back in her pocket and pulled her apron over her head. She was on track to only be twenty minutes late to today’s shift; practically a new record for her. Pushing through the doors of Lysander Hall, it was a relatively short trek to get to The Coffee Place. She refused to use its proper name—for her, it would always and forever be “The Coffee Place.”
Seriously, why bother giving a coffee join a stupid, cheesy name? It’s a place to get mildly addicted to caffeine, not re-enact a Hallmark Movie.
As Scarlett slid behind the counter, one of the other baristas spoke up to welcome a customer. “Welcome to Brew Love, what can I get started for you?”
Ugghhh it’s so stupid.
Hearts, kisses, and fancy ribbons decorated the menu of Brew Love, and a vast majority of the drinks had terrible puns for names. Did you want a small dessert and a cup of tea? You couldn’t just say that, you had to order a “Cute-Tea Pie.” It wasn’t an espresso with chocolate and milk, it was a “Mocha Me Crazy.”
As Scarlett finished tying her apron, she glanced at the order screen and started making the drink that just appeared. She’d barely gotten halfway through when someone spoke up behind her, causing her to spill some of the drink in her hands.
“Scarlett! You’re nearly half an hour late, what the hell?”
Turning around, Scarlett found herself face to face with another of her coworkers. She had a short black pixie cut that looked amazing with her somewhat petite face, and she wore a simple gray tank top underneath her apron. Before responding, Scarlett desperately tried to remember this girl’s name.
Brenda? No, that’s not right. Beatrice, maybe? It’s something with a B, I’m almost sure of it. Wait, don’t we all wear name tags?
“I got stuck in traffic, it’s no big deal…” Scarlett hesitated, quickly looking for her coworker’s name tag, “Brooklyn.
Brooklyn stepped closer, her quiet voice at odds with her furious tone. “What traffic? Even people who live off campus walk everywhere! If you keep this up, you’re not going to have a job much longer.”
“Psh, they’re not going to fire me. It’s a college coffee joint, as long as people get their drinks, no one gives a shit.” Scarlett finished her drink, then placed it on the counter.
“Ugh, you’re insufferable! Just, go take the register, it’s your turn today.”
“Again? You know I’m terrible at talking to people!”
“You’re also terrible at pouring drinks! If I have to choose between the two, I’d rather they at least get the correct order. Now get your ass up there and do your job!” Brooklyn stormed off to the best of her ability, which, given the cramped space, wasn’t very easy. Still, if nothing else, the conversation was over. Unfortunately, the bad news kept coming; her first customers she got were the two people she despised most on campus.
On the left stood a guy with short brown hair and dorky glasses who seemed allergic to being outside without his girlfriend, a shy blonde girl with a penchant for wearing nerdy tee shirts who shared a similar affliction. For once in her life, Scarlett wasn’t at fault for not remembering their names. In lieu of speaking to each other like normal adults, these two students had an endless supply of sickeningly saccharine nicknames for each other. The only source of amusement for Scarlett was that, over her months of employment, she’d managed to condition the two lovebirds to drop their stupid routine when ordering from her. Of course, as they were perpetually lost in each other’s eyes, they often failed to see who was at the register as they approached.
The guy spoke up first, and did so while leaning his head against his girlfriend’s. “What do you want today, sugar pie? Maybe a Brew-tiful Morning? Nice Chais Finish Last?”
“I had Chai yesterday, butter dumpling. Oh! Can I get a Wake Me Up Before You Cocoa?” the blonde girl responded, playfully ruffling her boyfriend’s hair. Their minds seemingly made up, they finally turned to the register, and their smiles immediately darkened when they saw Scarlett.
“What do you want?” Scarlett asked, her voice as bitter as black coffee.
The boyfriend stammered for a moment before ordering, his cheerful tone from seconds earlier nowhere to be found. “Um, one Wake Me Up Before you Cocoa and one Mocha Me Crazy, please.”
Scarlett punched in their orders, ignoring the hushed whispering on the other side of the register. She took the guy’s ID card, swiped it to charge his account, then did everything in her power to rush the couple out as quickly as she could. Thankfully, they were smart enough to scamper away with the tails between their legs as soon as they got their drinks. The line of students now empty, another of Scarlett’s coworkers wandered closer, leaning against the counter next to her with a goofy smile on his face.
“Aren’t they just adorable?” he asked. His dark brown ponytail, perfectly tied behind his head, bobbed slightly as he watched them leave.
“No, they’re annoying. What even is a butter dumpling?” Scarlett asked. She knew she wouldn’t get a serious answer; this coworker was a hopeless romantic.
“Oh, stop being such a sourpuss. You know it’s possible to just let other people be happy, right?”
“Hey, I’m not stopping them. I just don’t want to see it.”
The rest of Scarlett’s shift proved to be just as boring. The Coffee Place always saw small rushes when late classes let out, but the busiest hours were always in the morning. The biggest rush tonight ended up being a flood of jocks wandering over from the Athletic Campus. They entered the building in a sea of white and purple, courtesy of the letterman jackets they all wore, and Scarlett paid careful attention to their idle gossip as they ordered. Parties thrown by athletes were often some of the best, and she wanted to know where to direct her attention this weekend.
After several hours of one-sided small talk, silent glares, and disgruntled screen-tapping, Scarlett’s shift finally ended. She was forced to sit through another animated scolding from Brenda before leaving, during which she made several false promises that her tardiness would be a thing of the past. She figured it would only take another three or four speeches before her coworkers stopped trying to change her.
It wasn’t a battle they were going to win.
Now free from the shackles of The Coffee Place, her apron was completely untied before she even left the building. Instead of taking the closer exit, she walked to the other side of the building in hopes of finding all the jocks again, as she thought she remembered them heading in this direction. Unfortunately, too much time had passed, and everyone had cleared out by the time Scarlett arrived. Now lingering at the edge of the sidewalk, there was nothing to see but a large statue of some crusty old Roman guy.
Is this the guy the school was named after? Oh, look, it’s got a fancy bronze plaque at the base. I’ll bet it’s some pointless drivel about hope and aspirations and blah blah blah.
Even after her little detour, it only took Scarlett a few minutes to get back to her dorm. She tossed her apron towards the hooks on the wall, but apparently her aim was off. It fell to the floor, causing Scarlett to shrug with indifference before walking over to the TV. She didn’t see Amelia anywhere, which meant there would be no one to yell at her for making too much noise. After pushing the power button, noise from the television began flooding the apartment, and Scarlett immediately realized she had no idea where the remote was. With growing frustration, she started digging through cushions and blankets to find the damn thing.
The televisions supplied by the university all came with special “School Channels” pre-installed on them. The goal was to create a sense of community among the student body, with the main attraction being a news channel produced entirely by students. Aspiring journalists were able to work on the network as a way to earn experience as anchors, camera operators, script writers, and many other positions that theoretically helped develop real world skills.
Scarlett thought the whole thing was stupid, and was desperate to find the remote before being forced to listen to too much pointless news.
“—and, with the renovations nearly halfway finished, the Board of Directors hopes the project will be finished before the end of the season. Thankfully, the construction hasn’t impacted the football season! Despite a rocky start, and some narrow losses, Coach Hudson is confident that the team will—”
After finally finding the remote lodged under a pile of books, Scarlett muted the news with a sigh of relief.
Why even bother installing custom software? I doubt anyone watches that crap. It’s just one more step in the way of whatever streaming thing I want to pull up. It's like I’m a kid again, trying to wade through tedious cable channels to find something good.
Deciding to settle on some hideous reality show, Scarlett jumped on the couch again and quickly lost herself in her messages and social media posts. With any luck, she’d be able to find something fun to do tonight, but that unfortunately meant putting in some legwork. As she dug through her contacts, another text appeared from her sister, and again she ignored it. Instead, after nearly an hour of random texting, she found exactly what she was looking for. A casual acquaintance that lived off campus was hosting a casual hangout, and this particular friend group had a habit of procuring good shit to smoke.
Excited to finally have a chance to let loose, Scarlett grabbed a light jacket from her room and shoved her things inside its pockets. As she’d once again lost the remote, she didn’t bother turning off the TV before pulling her shoes on and leaving. Outside, the sun had long since vanished from the sky, and its absence meant the campus was significantly colder than Scarlett had expected. She almost regretted not grabbing a heavier coat, but thankfully she had the perfect solution: a carton of cigarettes.
She lit up the first cigarette and brought it to her lips, taking a deep breath while closing her eyes to appreciate the warmth of the smoke. She didn’t bother taking her time, and was only halfway to her friend’s place by the time she’d finished it. With a scowl, she flicked the butt against a nearby tree before lighting up another one. She was in the middle of tucking her lighter away when she felt the familiar buzz of her phone ringing.
Great, apparently it’s time for an argument.
Scarlett took one last drag, then pulled out her phone and answered it. “What do you want?”
“Scar, you’ve been ignoring my texts for days. I need to talk to you!” The voice on the other end belonged to Rose, Scarlett’s sister. Her voice was slightly deeper than Scarlett’s, and she spoke with the unmistakable air of someone who had gone through theater training as a child. “I’m trying to finalize the sale, but you still have a bunch of crap you haven’t picked up yet.”
“So? I’m not doing anything with it. Chuck it in a dumpster for all I care.” Scarlett said, shaking some ash onto the sidewalk beneath her.
“Scar, I’m not throwing your entire childhood away,” Rose said with a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m willing to hold on to it while you’re at college, but I need your help packing it up. If we don’t take care of this soon, we might not be able to stop the bank from seizing everything.”
“Then let them! The sooner this mess is done with, the quicker I can get back to my life.”
Rose paused, and in the silence Scarlett pictured her sister lightly clenching her fists to recenter herself. “Look, I know this is tough, and I know you’re having trouble with how quickly things are happening. It hasn’t even been a year yet, and the house is already on the market. Believe me, I hate it too, but I don’t have a choice. The money just doesn’t exist, and I’m trying to hold onto as much as I can.”
“And you’re doing great! Besides, if I try to help, I’ll fuck things up like I always do. You just keep at it, and I’m sure this will be over in no time.”
“Scar…” Rose paused, and her voice grew quiet as she took on a somber tone. “They were my parents too. I know what you’re going through, I just wish you’d talk to me. I’m barely holding on as it is, and it feels like every day you drift farther and farther away from me. You’re my sister, Scar, I don’t want to lose you too.”
“I don’t want your fucking sympathy, Rose,” Scarlett hissed. Rose tried to respond, but Scarlett ended the call before the conversation had a chance to continue. She shoved her phone back in her pocket, kicking a nearby curb to vent her frustration as she kept walking.
Who the fuck does she think she is? She doesn’t know shit about what I’m going through.
Scarlett’s thoughts scattered, thrown asunder by endless frustration as she mentally cussed out her sister. She desperately wanted a distraction, but if she continued to her friend’s place, they’d no doubt pester with endless questions about her bad mood. As she stared at the crosswalk in front of her, the thought of being with other people began to dramatically lose its appeal, no matter how badly she wanted to smoke.
Managing to tear herself away from her thoughts for a moment, she looked around and realized she wasn’t too far from the Athletic Campus. The tall, imposing figure of the football stadium loomed over nearby buildings, presenting itself as the third option she’d been hoping for.
The most obvious feature of this building was the massive construction site attached to its side. At the end of last year, the school had received some kind of grant and voted to refurbish the entire west face of the stadium. Four stories of offices, conference rooms, and storage had been completely torn down and were in the middle of being rebuilt, supposedly with more modern sensibilities. As the project was still far from completion, the west face existed only as a collection of frames and patches of drywall. Scaffolding and tarps surrounded huge portions of the partially finished construction, and piles of construction materials were scattered in and around the designated work space. Tall, temporary fences had been set up around the area to deter passersby from wandering in, though Scarlett happily bypassed the warning signs as she made her way to a loose gate.
Several weeks back, while hunting for a place that could hide her away for a few hours, Scarlett had discovered a path that took her through the construction all the way to the top floor. It required a bit of climbing, but Scarlett didn’t mind the exertion. Over the next fifteen minutes, she ducked under tarps, weaved through support pillars, and climbed over loose planks as she made her way towards the fourth floor. In the end, she made it to her favorite place in the building: a corner office, bigger than all the others, that had a fantastic view of both the Aurelius campus and the surrounding town of Ekstápoli.
The exterior wall of the office had yet to be finished, and currently existed only as a simple wooden frame. Workers had clipped a plastic tarp to the top to block the wind, and Scarlett immediately pulled it down to restore her favorite view. With a deep breath, she took a seat on the edge of the building, legs dangling over the side, while she leaned against the wooden frame for support. There, she lit a fresh cigarette and brought it to her lips, savoring the warmth as it spread through her body.
Up here, time didn’t matter. Her phone lie silent for long stretches of time, occasionally buzzing in an attempt to pull Scarlett back to reality. She ignored every single text, not even bothering to check who they were from.
I’m just so fucking sick of it all. I’m sick of the questions, the looks, the fake sympathy.
A heavy breeze swept over the stadium, rustling the tarps through the construction site before reaching Scarlett’s long black hair and tossing it around. The chill urged her to take another long, slow drag of her cigarette, which proved to be her last. Before the embers died completely, she snuffed them out on her wrist, the pain pulling her back to the present. Peering over the edge of the building, she flicked her cigarette away and lazily followed its trajectory as long as she could. The butt caught the wind, spinning wildly as it fell, rocketing past each of the stadium’s four floors, and in the end Scarlett lost sight of it completely. Where it landed didn’t matter; it wasn’t her problem anymore.
Scarlett stood up, gently holding a wooden beam next to her for support. She leaned over the edge, staring at the pavement below, her thoughts lingering on the cigarette she’d just tossed away. It was somewhere on the ground beneath her, not a care in the world. No one to tell it to go to school, no one demanding it talk about its feelings, no one pleading for it to pick up its old life.
I wish it would all just stop.
———
Chapter One - Vanessa
Alright Vanessa, it’s Wednesday. That means Calc, Lit, and Art History before lunch. I need to eat fast because I only get half my lunch, and then I’ve got Intro to Psych, Digital Photography, and Academic Writing in the afternoon. I finished all my homework, didn’t I? I should triple check, just to be safe.
Walking out of her closet, Vanessa abandoned her search for an outfit to instead open her backpack for the third time that morning. She opened her massive planning binder, then moved between countless colorful tabs as she reviewed her extensive notes about today’s assignments. She read each note several times over, cross-referencing the information with her “Prepared Homework” tab to make sure she was prepared. After examining every folder, and every answer on every assignment, she even recounted her pens to make sure she was ready. Satisfied with her preparation, she zipped up her backpack and returned to the walk-in closet.
Okay, right, Wednesday. I’m not doing anything messy, which means I could wear something a little nicer if I wanted. I could do the yellow shirt? No, I don’t want to look like a cartoon character. The green sweater might work, it’s starting to get a little chilly out, but I’m also pretty busy today and that might warm me up. Okay, red would make sense, and that gives me a lot of options. The burgundy button-down? That would be really easy to layer underneath something else, which would let me adapt if the weather changes. Although, the cherry blouse is really cute, and it’s much brighter. Plus, Max said he liked it a few weeks back, and he’s going to be in my Lit class this morning. Will I be warm enough if I just wear that? I don’t have nearly as many jackets that look good over that, so I’d have to find a good pair that would–
An alarm on Vanessa’s phone sounded, signaling the end of her morning prep time. Panic set in, and she knew that failure to leave her dorm in the next five minutes would guarantee tardiness to her first class. Without the luxury of time, she grabbed a simple pair of jeans and her green sweater—the outfit easiest to don in a short amount of time. She then grabbed her backpack, threw it over her shoulder, and ran to the kitchen to grab a cold microwave pastry before charging out the front door.
Her heart pounded in her chest for the entirety of her manic spring across campus. She considered a miracle that she made it to class on time; of course, “on time” actually meant fifteen minutes early. With what little time she had remaining, she scarfed down her cheap breakfast as she opened her backpack to procure her assignments.
Calculus certainly wasn’t her best subject. She did her best to take plenty of notes, and made sure to ask every question that popped into her head, but the material always seemed just out of reach. Numbers had always given her trouble, and she knew opting for a more difficult math class would be annoying, but this was her best shot at clearing up her schedule in later years. Success in Calculus would mean an end to all math classes for the rest of her academic life, something that seemed like a divine miracle given her distaste for the material. By the end of class, and after a short conversation with the teacher, she had a small collection of notes and page numbers that would allow her to continue the lesson at home. She thanked the teacher profusely, then ran out the door to make sure she was on time to Lit.
English and Literature were far more comfortable for Vanessa, as they focused on examining the written word instead of numbers. She loved the arts, adored picking apart creative works in pursuit of meaning just beneath the surface, and these courses scratched that analytical itch. It wasn’t a requirement for her Art Therapy aspirations, but she felt the pairing made perfect sense.
One pairing that thoroughly confused her was the presence of Max in her Lit class. As an athlete on the school’s football team, he looked incredibly out of place debating Death of the Author alongside everyone else. His broad, firm shoulders were impossible to miss, as he rarely left his dorm without his signature white and purple letterman jacket. Short, messy brown hair loosely fell across his forehead and shook slightly every time he raised his head, which he did with far too much enthusiasm. Even when getting an answer wrong, he always seemed thrilled just to be participating, and his nearly ever-present smile always seemed a little too big for his face. On the few occasions his smile faded, it was due to a difficult question in class that caused his bushy eyebrows to furrow deep around his intoxicating brown eyes.
At first, Vanessa hadn’t bothered paying attention to him. School was for studying, not engaging in idle flirtation, after all. However, after being paired with him for a group project several weeks back, she’d reluctantly formed a bit of a crush on him. His enthusiasm for life seemed humorously at odds with his soft-spoken demeanor, but it also meant every word he uttered was completely sincere. Talking with him always felt easy, and he had a habit of making Vanessa feel good about herself.
Unfortunately, this crush meant Vanessa often found herself distracted in class. Appreciating his paradoxically soft, yet rugged, features frequently pulled her attention away from the teacher, and on the days she managed to keep herself from staring at him, she waged intense debates in her mind about whether she even had time to date someone. After all, her class schedule was packed, and the difficult classes meant she needed to allot significantly more time for homework than her peers. Would a relationship cut into her productivity? Lower her grades? Would it be possible that the benefits of having a partner might outweigh the time commitment?
Such questions wouldn’t be answered today. Today’s class had no allowance for mingling, and once everyone had packed up their things, Vanessa realized they’d been released several minutes later than usual. Thinking of her long walk to her next class, Vanessa immediately rushed out the door to avoid being late. Surprisingly, Max caught up with her as she left the classroom, his long legs easily matching her panicked stride.
“Vanessa, hey! What’s going on today?” Max asked with a wide smile.
Unable to hold back her own smile, she did her best to ignore the butterflies that had just moved into her stomach. “Oh, you know me. My schedule is as packed as always, and Professor Luxnor kept us late. Again.” Vanessa went quiet for a moment, then remembered that small talk was better than complaining for making friends. “Otherwise, um, things are good! What are you up to today?”
“Other than classes? I mean, we’ve got practice tonight, and I think the guys are planning a get together afterwards. I was, um, actually wondering if you might be free? To, uh, go to the thing. The tonight, uh… thing,” Max stammered.
Visions of complicated Calculus homework raced through Vanessa’s thoughts, and she sighed in defeat. “I can’t tonight, I’m so sorry Max. I’ve got so much homework on my plate. I’m sure you can enjoy yourself twice as hard without me, right?”
“Right, yeah, totally! That’s okay, and no worries,” Max said quickly. He clumsily scratched behind his head as he continued talking. “I was just curious, that’s all.”
“Good luck at your practice, though!” Vanessa said, flashing a quick smile. “Wait, can I say good luck? I know theater majors don’t like that, but are athletes paranoid about stuff like that?”
“Nah, no one cares. I think anything short of physically attacking a footballer won’t scare them.” With another look in front of them, and down at Vanessa’s somewhat frantic pace, Max cleared his throat. “Listen, I’ll let you get to class, but I’ll catch you Friday, yeah? Until then, uh, break a leg with all your homework!”
“See you Friday!” Vanessa said in return as Max veered away. As she watched him leave, an idle thought crossed her mind.
Wait, he wasn’t asking me out, was he? I mean, he didn’t seem too upset that I said no, but guys can be so hard to read. I mean, it’s just as likely he sees me as a friend and was simply inviting me to a party. Would he ask me out if he wanted to? Or is he the type to try and softball his approach to not seem presumptive?
Vanessa’s mind spun with possibilities for the rest of her walk to class, and she even caught herself growing distracted during class itself. Halfway through class, she managed to wrest control of herself away from her hormones, and spent the rest of her time taking copious amounts of notes. Unlike her previous classes, Art History was mandatory for her major, which only brought on more pressure not to mess it up.
The rest of her day continued roughly as expected. She quite enjoyed today’s menu at the cafeteria, though unfortunately had little time to enjoy it. Each class continued adding more and more homework to her planner, and she spent most of her lunch wading through the assignments in an attempt to put together a plan of attack. She fully expected to sacrifice her weekend to her homework yet again, and even then, she didn’t know if she’d have time to get to everything.
When classes finally ended, Vanessa trudged back to her dorm with the weight of her classes feeling heavier than ever. She found her dorm completely empty, which was hardly surprising; Max had mentioned a party tonight, after all, which meant Alice was likely already pregaming. Thankfully, this meant Vanessa had the place entirely to herself for the evening, if not for the entire night. The chances of Alice spending the night at a guy’s place were fairly high. Excited to have a night free from distractions, Vanessa took a few minutes to set up her perfect study environment.
The common area had one long couch, and Vanessa quickly piled an assortment of snacks and drinks on the side table sitting next to it. She grabbed a lap desk from her room, along with a thick blanket she’d made her herself last year. Her backpack sat next to her on the middle cushion, itself propped up against a pile of books, binders, and folders. Lastly, she delicately placed three pencils and a pencil sharpener on the nearby table.
If she needed to pull an all-nighter tonight, then so be it.
Just before she cracked open her Calculus book, however, her phone started ringing.
Ugh, that’s right. Time for the Wednesday check-in.
Vanessa pulled out her phone, propped it up on her lap desk, and swiped to answer the video call. The screen quickly lit up, and two eager faces stared back at her. “Hi Mom! Hi Dad!” she said, effortlessly masking her frustrations.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you, Vanessa! How are classes going? Are you having a good week?” her mom asked. She had long curly hair that was already graying, and a pair of thick glasses sat atop her nose.
“Everything’s going great, Mom! Classes are going really well. They’re giving out a bunch of homework, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve actually got the place to myself tonight, so it’ll be really easy to knock everything out.” Vanessa did her best to appear enthusiastic and stress-free, hoping to deny her parents any opportunity to change the topic of conversation.
“That roommate of yours isn’t pulling you to any parties, is she? I’ve never gotten a good feeling about that girl…” This time, it was her dad that spoke up. His hair also betrayed his age, but mostly because of how much of it was missing. What few patches of hair remained had been dyed dark brown, and he loosely adjusted the collar of his favorite blue turtleneck as he finished speaking.
“Alice is a wonderful girl, Dad, she’s not a bad influence. Besides, you know I’m not interested in those kinds of parties. I got invited to one tonight, and I turned it down! I’d much rather stay home and study.”
“Look, you can’t blame us for worrying. You keep disagreeing with us when it matters most! I mean, we had everything lined up so that you could go to Yale, and then you blindside us with this other place. I mean, what does Aurelius have that Yale doesn’t?” Vanessa’s mom said, the disappointment in her voice thick.
“Mom, I’d love to explain that again, but I honestly do have a lot of homework to get to. Maybe we can talk about it when my schedule is a little lighter?” Vanessa said.
Her dad spoke up next. “Barb, hun, how about we let Vanessa get back to her studies. We’ll have plenty of time to have this conversation when the semester is winding down. That would be the best time to start arranging for a transfer anyways.”
It took every ounce of control Vanessa had to avoid groaning in frustration before hanging up the call. After saying her goodbyes, which always took longer than she wanted, she finally managed to end the call. As the screen went black, she grabbed a nearby throw pillow from the couch and hugged it tightly against her chest. She squeezed it harder and harder, silently venting all her frustrations as if the pillow could absorb them entirely. After nearly a minute of tension, she sighed and released the pillow, gently placing it next to her on the couch.
It’s okay, they have every right to be annoyed. I just have to show them that I’m happy here, that I’m getting good grades and staying out of trouble. Maybe if I get involved in more extracurriculars, show them that I’m an integral part of the student community here, they’ll finally ease off.
Vanessa knew the answer wouldn’t be that simple, but it helped to give herself something to hope for. In the meantime, she had a mountain of homework that would serve as the perfect distraction from her problems. The only question was which homework to tackle first. Assuming she would be most energized at the start of her study session, would it be better to tackle the harder stuff first? Or would it be better to knock out dozens of little assignments first to get into a productivity groove?
She eventually decided on the former, as she didn’t want her Calc homework hanging over her head all night. If she waited too long, she feared her frustrations with the material might make internalizing the knowledge impossible.
Grabbing her blanket, she pulled it over her lap, then added the desk atop that. She sharpened her first pencil, cracked open her textbook, and began reviewing today’s lesson. After making it through several paragraphs, the silence of her dorm began to annoy her. In her frustration with her parents, she’d forgotten to turn on the TV, and quickly remedied the problem. She pulled up one of her favorite medical dramas, then returned to her homework with renewed vigor.
As much as Vanessa disliked her Calc homework, she still managed to finish it in just over an hour. It took a lot of reviewing her notes and re-reading the textbook, but she felt confident in her work. Deciding to take a break from problem solving, her next task was to catch up on the assigned reading for her Lit course.
Much of the course was spent examining how writers injected meaning into their works. It involved learning about the context of the story, the personality of the author, and picking apart themes in their works. Vanessa’s biggest frustration was that the class focused far too heavily on books written by upper class white men, and she did her best to offer interpretations of their work through a lens they’d likely never have considered when writing the book. While much of the class was spent debating why authors made certain literary choices, Vanessa also liked to ponder if said choices were meant to influence the themes, or simply invisible biases of the author.
It was much easier to read at home than in class, especially with the TV on. She hated silence, it always created an annoying buzz in her ears that drove her crazy. It was also advantageous to have something playing when she needed a small distraction. Often, when a particular problem or idea was giving her trouble, she found focusing on something else for a minute gave her the space to approach her conundrum from a new angle.
After the first few hours, Vanessa made herself a small sandwich for dinner, but ate it while continuing to power through homework on the couch. When she finished her dinner, she set the plate on the side table and got back to work, ready for another few hours of productivity.
———
Vanessa didn’t remember falling asleep. Apparently, she hadn’t planned for it, either; she was still on the couch, a textbook open on her lap desk and her water bottle tucked between her and the armrest. A throw pillow sat on the floor, and based on her extended right leg, she’d likely kicked it off during her sleep.
The TV was still on and had continued moving from episode to episode as she slept. Comparing the current episode to the one she last remembered, she gathered she’d been asleep for at least three or four hours.
Looking to her left, she saw the crumbs of her dinner still sitting on the plate. It wasn’t like her not to clean up a mess; she must have been more tired than she realized. Trying to pull herself together once more, she began shifting in her seat, pulling her legs back underneath her. As she shuffled around, however, a strange noise caused her to freeze.
To her right, she heard someone breathing.
Had her roommate come home? Even if she had, Alice only cared for reality shows, and wouldn’t bother sitting down to watch medical dramas. Nervously looking to her right, Vanessa saw a complete stranger sitting next to her on the couch.
“FUCK!!” Vanesa shouted, jumping to her feet. Her books clattered to the floor, her pencils scattered across the rug, and the lap desk landed with a loud THUD.
As this happened, the person sitting next to Vanessa on the couch rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, could you shut up? He’s about to tell us if it’s lupus or not.”
Vanessa froze in surprise. Who on Earth would break into her apartment just to watch TV? Even stranger, who would be so casually dismissive about breaking and entering? When she finally responded, her voice shook with indignation. “I will do no such thing! Who are you, and why are you in my dorm?!”
The stranger’s eyes went wide and she turned to look at Vanessa. Before she spoke, Vanessa took the opportunity to memorize this girl’s appearance; if this escalated, she might need to make a police report, after all.
The strange girl had perfectly straight, long black hair that rested casually on her shoulders. She had beat-up gym shoes and distressed, black denim pants with far too many holes in them, along with several small burn marks. An equally shabby gray tank top covered her torso, one with a graphic that had long ago faded from recognition. Her face was quite thin, incredibly pale, and heavy bags under her eyes gave her a frighteningly gaunt appearance.
Staring at the strange, Vanessa noticed she appeared to be shocked about something. After a moment of frozen panic, the girl rose off the couch, ending roughly a foot over Vanessa. She hadn’t risen to her feet, however. Despite everything Vanessa thought she knew about the world, this stranger had floated off the couch and now hovered in midair.
“Wait,” the strange girl finally muttered, “you can see me?!”