The dead white-gray color of winter spilled inside from the window. White-gray snow, slush and sky became white-gray walls, desks and lights. I'd never felt so bored and lonely in my life. Behind me, I heard people whispering and giggling. I heard guys talking about last night's game and girls talking about how drunk they got at some party over the weekend. The professor was projecting a transparency on the wall, discussing some grammar rules that I already knew. I was required to take this English composition course, and I considered it a complete waste of time, as most students did. I wish I had some friends in this school, I thought. At least then I'd have a way to pass the time here.
I had tried my best to make friends here, I really had. It was no use. I was too shy. Everyone already seemed to have so many friends. I barely ever saw anyone by themselves, and when I did, they were soon joined by others. It was as though I were the only solitary person on the whole campus. I hadn't seen any of my family since I'd moved here at the beginning of the last semester. I hated it here. I'd never felt so bored, lonely, and depressed in my entire life.
"All right, now it's time to choose partners for our next project." I suddenly heard the professor say. I panicked. Why couldn't the professor just assign groups? I didn't know anyone in this class! I reluctantly tapped the shoulder of the girl sitting in front of me. "Would you wanna work together?" I asked.
"Sorry, I've already got a partner." Desperate, I turned to the guy next to me.
"Would you-"
"Sorry." He cut me off.
Before I knew it, the class was divided into 15 groups of two, and I was all by myself. Feeling like a kindergarten student, I approached the professor. She was a woman who was at least in her 50's, with that bland soul-killing shade of white-gray in her hair, eyes, and clothes.
"Excuse me," I said softly. "I can't find a partner. Maybe I could work alone?"
"No, you have to learn to work in a group. That's what this project is all about."
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. "Well then, should I join a group of two, or should I..."
She scanned a piece of paper. "It seems that Mr. Maxwell Berenger has decided not to show up again. I suppose he can be your partner."
I had no idea who she was talking about. She seemed to register the blank look on my face. "Here's his phone number and e-mail so you can get in touch with him."
"Okay..." I sat back down at my desk. I really didn't want to work with this guy who hadn't shown up to class since it had began three weeks ago. I knew I would wind up working on the project all alone. I sighed and started planning some ideas for the informative poster I would have to create and present, but wound up making sketches on the back of my notebook.
After what seemed hours of sitting alone at my desk, listening to everyone talk about their projects for five minutes and then start to gossip, having nothing to do with myself, unable to stop myself from blushing because I felt like such a loser, the class ended and I left the building and stepped outside. The temperature matched the pale shade of the scenery: bitter cold, biting wind, no sun, no warmth. I trudged through the heavy wet snow to the dining hall.
I entered the cafeteria-style building, grabbed a tray, and got myself some food. Desperate to shake off the depressing isolation I felt, I scanned the room for someone to talk to. Somebody, anybody, I thought. Someone from class, someone from my building, there must be someone all alone. I saw a guy from my psychology class by himself at a table. He looked cute, seemed nice. Feeling a bit better, ignoring the flutter of nervousness in my stomach, I smiled and headed towards him.
"Hi." I said, holding up my tray. He didn't look up. My smile wavered. "Mind if I sit here?" He acknowledged me, picked up his tray, and walked away with a curt, "It's all yours." Feeling crushed, defeated, I sat down at the table alone and tried not to let my disappointment show.
Fifteen minutes later I dumped my tray and headed across the street to the dormitory that housed my room. I climbed up three flights of stairs and entered my room. Most colleges required roommates, but my school had a single room policy. I was glad to have the room to myself, drab though it was. The walls and ceiling were a whitish beige, the carpet a pale gray. I sat on my bed and turned on the TV. After flipping through the channels for almost half an hour, I turned it back off, disgusted. It was no replacement for human companionship. I wanted to cry; I felt so alone.
Suddenly, my phone rang. I didn't hesitate to pick it up. Who could it be? One of my parents? My older sister? I didn't care. I was just happy to have someone to talk to.
"Hello?" I said as I brought the phone to my ear.
"Hey. Is this Lily Blanca?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.
"Yes. Who's this?" I replied.
"Max Berenger. Your, ah, partner."
"Oh." I paused. "I wasn't really expecting you to call."
"Why's that?" he asked. I blushed, and was glad he couldn't see it.
"Well, you never show up for class, and..." I trailed off.
"Oh, that. Well, that class bores the hell out of me, and I found out about some rule where if you put assignments in a professor's mailbox, they have to accept it. And since there's no attendance policy, I get away with it." He laughed. "Good thing for that old bag's Syllabus for Dummies. It spells out every assignment to the letter." I accidently let out a ditzy titter. Great, I thought, now he's going to think I'm a moron.
"So when do you want to meet to work on this?" I asked, changing the subject.
"As soon as possible. I want to get that stupid crap out of the way. I've got real classes to deal with."
"OK."
"Why don't I come down to your room so we can figure out what to write about, maybe get an outline done or something?" he suggested. "I hate doing that useless shit, but I know it's required."
"Right now?" I asked, hating the mousy alarmed tone of my voice.
"Yeah, sure. If that's OK with you, of course."
"Yes, that's fine." I said. "I live in Brown Hall, room 302."
"Hey, cool, I live right down the hall in 306."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Guess I've got no excuse for being late now. See you in a few."
"OK. Bye." I said, not really expecting a reply. To my surprise, he said goodbye before he hung up. I tidied up my room a bit, then checked my reflection in the mirror. My long mousy brown hair was a mess. I ran a brush through it, then put on some lip gloss. Half of me was excited. You have plans tonight! I thought. You have something to do! And even better, someone to do it with! Maybe you'll become friends! Maybe he'll be cute! Maybe then you'll become more than friends! The other half was cynical. He'll be counting the seconds until he can leave. You'll be too shy to talk to him. The teacher forced him to work with you, he's not interested in you. He'll be bored. Maybe he'll even request a change of partners. My mood wavered between joy and anxiety. Just when I thought I was about to explode, there came a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I called out. "It's Max." came the reply. Well, I thought, here goes nothing.
I had tried my best to make friends here, I really had. It was no use. I was too shy. Everyone already seemed to have so many friends. I barely ever saw anyone by themselves, and when I did, they were soon joined by others. It was as though I were the only solitary person on the whole campus. I hadn't seen any of my family since I'd moved here at the beginning of the last semester. I hated it here. I'd never felt so bored, lonely, and depressed in my entire life.
"All right, now it's time to choose partners for our next project." I suddenly heard the professor say. I panicked. Why couldn't the professor just assign groups? I didn't know anyone in this class! I reluctantly tapped the shoulder of the girl sitting in front of me. "Would you wanna work together?" I asked.
"Sorry, I've already got a partner." Desperate, I turned to the guy next to me.
"Would you-"
"Sorry." He cut me off.
Before I knew it, the class was divided into 15 groups of two, and I was all by myself. Feeling like a kindergarten student, I approached the professor. She was a woman who was at least in her 50's, with that bland soul-killing shade of white-gray in her hair, eyes, and clothes.
"Excuse me," I said softly. "I can't find a partner. Maybe I could work alone?"
"No, you have to learn to work in a group. That's what this project is all about."
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. "Well then, should I join a group of two, or should I..."
She scanned a piece of paper. "It seems that Mr. Maxwell Berenger has decided not to show up again. I suppose he can be your partner."
I had no idea who she was talking about. She seemed to register the blank look on my face. "Here's his phone number and e-mail so you can get in touch with him."
"Okay..." I sat back down at my desk. I really didn't want to work with this guy who hadn't shown up to class since it had began three weeks ago. I knew I would wind up working on the project all alone. I sighed and started planning some ideas for the informative poster I would have to create and present, but wound up making sketches on the back of my notebook.
After what seemed hours of sitting alone at my desk, listening to everyone talk about their projects for five minutes and then start to gossip, having nothing to do with myself, unable to stop myself from blushing because I felt like such a loser, the class ended and I left the building and stepped outside. The temperature matched the pale shade of the scenery: bitter cold, biting wind, no sun, no warmth. I trudged through the heavy wet snow to the dining hall.
I entered the cafeteria-style building, grabbed a tray, and got myself some food. Desperate to shake off the depressing isolation I felt, I scanned the room for someone to talk to. Somebody, anybody, I thought. Someone from class, someone from my building, there must be someone all alone. I saw a guy from my psychology class by himself at a table. He looked cute, seemed nice. Feeling a bit better, ignoring the flutter of nervousness in my stomach, I smiled and headed towards him.
"Hi." I said, holding up my tray. He didn't look up. My smile wavered. "Mind if I sit here?" He acknowledged me, picked up his tray, and walked away with a curt, "It's all yours." Feeling crushed, defeated, I sat down at the table alone and tried not to let my disappointment show.
Fifteen minutes later I dumped my tray and headed across the street to the dormitory that housed my room. I climbed up three flights of stairs and entered my room. Most colleges required roommates, but my school had a single room policy. I was glad to have the room to myself, drab though it was. The walls and ceiling were a whitish beige, the carpet a pale gray. I sat on my bed and turned on the TV. After flipping through the channels for almost half an hour, I turned it back off, disgusted. It was no replacement for human companionship. I wanted to cry; I felt so alone.
Suddenly, my phone rang. I didn't hesitate to pick it up. Who could it be? One of my parents? My older sister? I didn't care. I was just happy to have someone to talk to.
"Hello?" I said as I brought the phone to my ear.
"Hey. Is this Lily Blanca?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.
"Yes. Who's this?" I replied.
"Max Berenger. Your, ah, partner."
"Oh." I paused. "I wasn't really expecting you to call."
"Why's that?" he asked. I blushed, and was glad he couldn't see it.
"Well, you never show up for class, and..." I trailed off.
"Oh, that. Well, that class bores the hell out of me, and I found out about some rule where if you put assignments in a professor's mailbox, they have to accept it. And since there's no attendance policy, I get away with it." He laughed. "Good thing for that old bag's Syllabus for Dummies. It spells out every assignment to the letter." I accidently let out a ditzy titter. Great, I thought, now he's going to think I'm a moron.
"So when do you want to meet to work on this?" I asked, changing the subject.
"As soon as possible. I want to get that stupid crap out of the way. I've got real classes to deal with."
"OK."
"Why don't I come down to your room so we can figure out what to write about, maybe get an outline done or something?" he suggested. "I hate doing that useless shit, but I know it's required."
"Right now?" I asked, hating the mousy alarmed tone of my voice.
"Yeah, sure. If that's OK with you, of course."
"Yes, that's fine." I said. "I live in Brown Hall, room 302."
"Hey, cool, I live right down the hall in 306."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Guess I've got no excuse for being late now. See you in a few."
"OK. Bye." I said, not really expecting a reply. To my surprise, he said goodbye before he hung up. I tidied up my room a bit, then checked my reflection in the mirror. My long mousy brown hair was a mess. I ran a brush through it, then put on some lip gloss. Half of me was excited. You have plans tonight! I thought. You have something to do! And even better, someone to do it with! Maybe you'll become friends! Maybe he'll be cute! Maybe then you'll become more than friends! The other half was cynical. He'll be counting the seconds until he can leave. You'll be too shy to talk to him. The teacher forced him to work with you, he's not interested in you. He'll be bored. Maybe he'll even request a change of partners. My mood wavered between joy and anxiety. Just when I thought I was about to explode, there came a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I called out. "It's Max." came the reply. Well, I thought, here goes nothing.