late, I won’t even go in at all. I hate when I act this way, but I can't control it. The "always be early" thing is something I learned from Grandpa Joe.
Being early is a good thing, however, pair a good quality with me, and my way of amplifying everything, and it will most definitely become a burden. Fuck it, I might as well go in, my only other option is standing out here in the hallway like a moron.
I barely get a foot inside the doorway when I freeze cold.
"Shit," I breath out, so only I can hear.
The guy with the brown—I mean, Roman—looks up from his seat. He's sitting right there, in the middle of the row closest to the windows. I take in the sight of him while I can. He is engrossed in a book. His foot taps rapidly on the floor and his hand strokes at the stuff on his chin.
It's not long before he notices me. When he does, his eyes devour me, making a point of eyeing me up and down. I'm suddenly self-conscious, watching him take me all in. He is the only other person in the room, and I find myself wondering what would cause him to be here so early.
My feet are basically glued to the tile, so I'm still standing by the door when I blurt out, "Am I, uh … Am I in the right class? Is this government?"
He nods his head once, says, "Yeah," and looks back down at whatever he was reading.
I knew I was in the right room. My delirium wouldn't allow me not to. He is either really into what he's reading, or just not into me. I hesitate, but I begin walking to his side of the room. I maneuver my way through, getting jabbed with desk corners here and there, not to the seat next to him, but the one in front of the seat next to him. Strategy. Can't be too obvious now. Do I really even want to sit by him? I mean, he doesn't seem to be at all interested. The answer is sad but simple. Yes, yes I do.
Gradually, students start to make their way in as we get closer to the time the class actually starts. To my surprise, there doesn't seem to be any freshman in the class. In fact, everyone looks old. I may even be the youngest one here, so something's not right. Government is a general ed class, which means the class should be freshmen level.
I wait for him to say something, anything, to me. He doesn't even look up from his book so I decide to quickly scan over my schedule again.
"Son-of-a mother-fricken-effer," I swear, unintentionally in my normal tone, meaning everyone around me heard.
I signed up for Political Science 301 not 101.
"Why would they let me take 301? Wouldn't I need some prof to sign off, or something, since I didn't take the pre-req?"
"No, not necessarily," I hear someone respond.
A much older looking guy is sitting next to me.
"If you're a senior, sometimes they don't require it. I think they are too busy with the freshmen. They probably assume seniors are in high level classes without checking further. If you ask me, I don't think these advisors pay much attention to the students already going here," he tells me.
Damn, I didn't even notice him sit down.
"Martin."
"Huh?"
"My name, it's Martin." He holds his hand out to me.
"Rigbee." I grab his hand and shake it.
Turns out, I'm not the only one left in the world who shakes hands like a dork. So there's that.
He notices the way I'm looking at him, because he follows up with, "I'm a soccer coach at a middle school. I had to come back and fill a credit requirement."
Now I know why he looks old. Not too old, however, early thirties maybe. He's average looking, with light-brown hair and a plain face I probably wouldn't remember. He seems nice, though, and he has a warm smile. I think we could end up getting along. Martin also happens to be sitting directly in front of Roman. I can use his location to my advantage.
The professor closes the door now and begins his introductions to the class.
"All right, class, welcome to Political Science 301. I am Fred Weiss, your professor for the remainder of the semester, which lasts roughly three months. From
Being early is a good thing, however, pair a good quality with me, and my way of amplifying everything, and it will most definitely become a burden. Fuck it, I might as well go in, my only other option is standing out here in the hallway like a moron.
I barely get a foot inside the doorway when I freeze cold.
"Shit," I breath out, so only I can hear.
The guy with the brown—I mean, Roman—looks up from his seat. He's sitting right there, in the middle of the row closest to the windows. I take in the sight of him while I can. He is engrossed in a book. His foot taps rapidly on the floor and his hand strokes at the stuff on his chin.
It's not long before he notices me. When he does, his eyes devour me, making a point of eyeing me up and down. I'm suddenly self-conscious, watching him take me all in. He is the only other person in the room, and I find myself wondering what would cause him to be here so early.
My feet are basically glued to the tile, so I'm still standing by the door when I blurt out, "Am I, uh … Am I in the right class? Is this government?"
He nods his head once, says, "Yeah," and looks back down at whatever he was reading.
I knew I was in the right room. My delirium wouldn't allow me not to. He is either really into what he's reading, or just not into me. I hesitate, but I begin walking to his side of the room. I maneuver my way through, getting jabbed with desk corners here and there, not to the seat next to him, but the one in front of the seat next to him. Strategy. Can't be too obvious now. Do I really even want to sit by him? I mean, he doesn't seem to be at all interested. The answer is sad but simple. Yes, yes I do.
Gradually, students start to make their way in as we get closer to the time the class actually starts. To my surprise, there doesn't seem to be any freshman in the class. In fact, everyone looks old. I may even be the youngest one here, so something's not right. Government is a general ed class, which means the class should be freshmen level.
I wait for him to say something, anything, to me. He doesn't even look up from his book so I decide to quickly scan over my schedule again.
"Son-of-a mother-fricken-effer," I swear, unintentionally in my normal tone, meaning everyone around me heard.
I signed up for Political Science 301 not 101.
"Why would they let me take 301? Wouldn't I need some prof to sign off, or something, since I didn't take the pre-req?"
"No, not necessarily," I hear someone respond.
A much older looking guy is sitting next to me.
"If you're a senior, sometimes they don't require it. I think they are too busy with the freshmen. They probably assume seniors are in high level classes without checking further. If you ask me, I don't think these advisors pay much attention to the students already going here," he tells me.
Damn, I didn't even notice him sit down.
"Martin."
"Huh?"
"My name, it's Martin." He holds his hand out to me.
"Rigbee." I grab his hand and shake it.
Turns out, I'm not the only one left in the world who shakes hands like a dork. So there's that.
He notices the way I'm looking at him, because he follows up with, "I'm a soccer coach at a middle school. I had to come back and fill a credit requirement."
Now I know why he looks old. Not too old, however, early thirties maybe. He's average looking, with light-brown hair and a plain face I probably wouldn't remember. He seems nice, though, and he has a warm smile. I think we could end up getting along. Martin also happens to be sitting directly in front of Roman. I can use his location to my advantage.
The professor closes the door now and begins his introductions to the class.
"All right, class, welcome to Political Science 301. I am Fred Weiss, your professor for the remainder of the semester, which lasts roughly three months. From
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