ANGIE’S DIARY
October 1st, 1990
I made a friend today. Then our class was cancelled, maybe for the rest of the year.
Is this the end or the beginning?
Four weeks earlier
LYNN
I tapped my foot outside the lecture hall building, looking for an easy opening into the crowd. Through the dark glass doors a whirling mass of coats, hats, and book bags flowed in two currents; one into the building, the other out.
If I wanted a good seat I'd have to move fast, so I grabbed a door handle and slid myself between two squishy bodies. Once inside I could see that there was a bit more room to the left, so I joined the river of students heading in that direction.
The signs were small. Lecture Hall 104...Lecture Hall 102...Okay, here it is. I popped out of the crush of people and stood in front of the entrance to Lecture Hall 100.
Four large doors faced me. That's weird. Why do they need four doors?
I turned around, used my book bag to push on the weight bar, and heard the loud "K-chunk" as I backed in.
Huh. Okay, that's why they need so many. This was a big class. Really big.
The lecture podium stood empty and alone on the stage to my right, so I kept my headphones on and thumbed up the volume on my walkman. What song came next? This was Zoe's mixed tape, and I couldn't remember.
Rows of seats stretched out to fill the floor of the auditorium. A concrete balcony, which I guessed had more seats I couldn't see, hung suspended at least fifteen feet in the air. How do I get up there?
Down here, each chair had a tiny desk attached to the armrest. Some of them didn't have desks...no, I'm wrong, actually it looks like some of the desks were just folded away.
My legs moved me forward automatically as my eyes drifted upward, following the yellow plaster of the walls to meet in a simple arc high over my head. I looked down, chose an empty spot in the third row and dropped my bag on the floor before taking the seat. I considered taking off my jacket, but the seat and armrest were both freezing, so I kept it on and shivered.
The opening notes for "Life in a Northern Town" by The Dream Academy started playing in my ears.
I looked around. Nobody was sitting near me, but maybe I should turn it off, and try to make friends? I guess? Did it matter? I did try, earlier this morning, and failed. Everyone kept to themselves or seemed to know each other already. Maybe they made friends at the dorms before coming to class?
Why did my Mom have to make me live with Jim? So what if he's my brother. I could have lived in the dorms. I could have a bunch of friends already.
At least I had music to keep me company. This was a good song. I closed my eyes and listened to the lyrics. Was this a man or woman doing the lead vocals?
"It was the winter 1963
It felt like the world would freeze
With John F. Kennedy, and the Beatles, yeah yeah"
The song took over, and I blocked out everything around me. This classroom. The kids from this morning. It was harder to forget that I was here, at Stonyfield University. No matter how much I didn't like it, I was now hundreds of miles from home and, even with Jim here, I was basically on my own.
A peal of laughter broke my reverie so I opened my eyes, and checked my watch. Five more minutes to go, but the room was already nearly full so I should probably stop listening. One more minute would be okay. I could let the song finish, at least.
Someone's going to sit next to me any second. I look cool today, I wore my jean jacket with all of my favorite pins. I'm sure someone will want to sit next to me.
Kids keep coming in and we're definitely running out of seats except the two on either side of me.
Why are those kids leaning against the wall up front? Are they looking for a good spot? Wait, I'm wrong. They were older, so they must be the Teacher's Assistants, not students. Jim said I should call them T.A.s. He should know, since he's a grad student.
It's definitely full in here now. The teacher is going to come in any second. How many kids are in this one room? "From the smell", as Zoe would have said, it's at least 500. I smiled, imagining my friend sitting next to me. I wonder what she's doing now.
The song ended, so I reached in my bag, turned off the tape, and tugged my headphones off my ears. Just then, someone took the empty seat next to me, bringing a cloud of warmth and smelling clean, like makeup and new books.
I checked her out. Wow.
This was a girl who belonged on a movie set, not in a state school in the middle of nowhere. From this angle I could tell she had those heavily lidded eyes that old song talks about. Bette Davis Eyes. She was black. Almost nobody here is black. She looks, familiar somehow. Her skin was a dark shade of brown and her long hair was braided into rows, the braids gathered and tied in a ponytail high on her head. She was a big girl, built more along the lines of a pro-wrestler rather than a munchkin like me. She didn't make eye contact, in fact, she didn't even seem to notice me at all. Instead she looked down at her notebook and made some notes with a pencil.
Her book bag was open on the floor so I leaned forward, trying not to let her see as I peeked inside. One large spiral notebook was divided into labeled, colored tabs, and matching color folders for each subject were also clearly labeled and stacked on top. She put down her pencil, which happened to be the same brand as mine, took out a Biology textbook, and started to read.
So she's super smart, super organized, and from what I can see, really pretty, too. Definitely NOT friend material, then. I sighed, opened to a blank page in my plain, not-at-all-lableled notebook, and started doodling a series of triangles.
What kind of person reads a textbook for fun?
I watched my doodle grow, then stopped to tap a little drumbeat with my pencil. I bet she'd be so cool to hang out with, though. What a pair we would make walking around campus together, just like Mr. Miyagi and Daniel-San in the Karate Kid. Scrawny me next to a giant.
Someone else took the seat to my left, another girl. A white girl this time. Her outfit was a bit out of place for Stonyfield, peach slacks and a brand-name polo shirt. What was this, a golf course?
Just then the class quieted as a man climbed the steps to the stage.
This had to be the teacher since he was dressed all in shades of brown. I could hear his pants going zut zut zut as he crossed to the podium, so they were corduroys, a classic teacher choice. His tweed jacket even had patches on his elbows. Was he a dork? Teaching a rock music history class?
When he turned around, a little leap of hope zinged in my heart. He had a ponytail, a bouquet of blond curls that fell softly between his shoulders. Maybe he was cool. He wrote his name (Mr. Lee) on the blackboard, then faced us again, picked up something that looked like a TV remote and pushed a button.
Good character descriptions and creates an air of expectation that makes readers want more.
looking forward to reading the next chapter