Alex Faulkner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
videokilledme) wrote2017-11-23 12:08 pm
videokilledme) wrote2017-11-23 12:08 pm
“And The Rest Is (World) History.” Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter One
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter One
It was only the first day of his first class during his first semester at Carrington University, and new sophomore Alex Faulkner was pretty sure that his GPA was history. It didn’t escape him that the actual class he was currently sitting in was also history--World History 1001, to be precise--but that seemed somehow fitting. Poetic justice, of a sort.
The first fifteen minutes hadn’t been so bad. Alex had been on time, and had secured an inner aisle seat in the upper-middle of the room. Better yet, he’d done it quickly enough that no one had felt inclined to take the seat beside him, leaving him plenty of space. His choice of clothing might have had something to do with that: he’d gone full-out punk rock today, slewing into goth territory a bit as well, which often made people think twice about approaching him. Plenty of people had taken one look at his black nail polish, the studded leather bands around his wrists and neck, the rings in his ears, lip, eyebrow, and nose, and his ragged long-sleeve fishnet shirt beneath an equally ragged black shirt with skulls messily painted on it in what almost looked like blood, and moved along to the next row a little more quickly. The flat, almost hostile stare he’d used to meet their curious glances had only made them hurry along a little faster, and quickly drop their eyes in the bargain.
Seeing that had made it hard not to smile, or at least smirk, especially when one or two of the preppier-looking students had nearly tripped up the stairs in their haste to move away. Perfect.
Alex preferred to be alone, and to be left alone--his father, Bill Faulkner, was a career Air Force officer, and they’d moved around every couple years or so all throughout Alex’s life. Even in today’s world that was so wirelessly connected by the internet, it was hard to make and keep friends when you knew you’d only be around a few years; by the time he’d gotten to high school, he’d stopped putting any real effort into finding friends, and by the time he’d started his freshman year of college, Alex had given up on it completely. He’d hardly exchanged so much as ten words with the same classmate that whole year, and that had been just fine with him.
Things wouldn’t be any different here at Carrington, Alex was certain. He’d transferred to this university because, once again, Bill Faulkner had been reassigned, this time from Wright-Pat near Dayton, Ohio to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling in Washington D.C., and Carrington University had been close, convenient, and not horribly expensive or hard to get into. He’d lived at home his freshman year of college, and while it would’ve been possible, even easy, to simply move into one of the dorms at Wright State and finish out his four years there, instead Alex had transferred without a second thought, without even speaking to his father about it. He’d had no attachments there, after all; his loyalty was to his father, regardless of how rocky their relationship had gotten over the past several years. The idea of leaving Bill alone was an acutely disagreeable one--Gemma, Alex’s mother, had walked out on them both eight years ago, and while she stayed in touch via phone calls and email, and he visited her and her new family fairly often, there was still a lingering sting of betrayal there. Alex loved and admired many things about his mother, but that self-centered free-spiritedness that had let her leave was one thing he didn’t like, and one way that he never wanted to be like her. He was simply too devoted, too dutiful, to ever abandon Bill, regardless of the personal cost he had to pay for that allegiance.
Friendship wasn’t all that important to him, anyway, or so he’d decided to believe. Everything was easier that way. The fewer ties he had, the simpler things were.
At that moment, Alex’s attention was drawn down the front of the classroom by the entrance of their teacher. Dr. Malcolm Pace was tall, blond, and obviously well-muscled even beneath his suit jacket and button-down shirt with its precisely-pressed collar and matching tie. He moved with purpose, setting his leather bag down on the table beside the lectern and pulling out a folder, notebook, and what was likely an attendance book, all without any unnecessary fumbling or digging around in his bag, clipped a mini microphone to his lapel, then turned his attention up and outwards, towards his students.
The pre-class chatter had dwindled to a few individuals on his entrance, and now it all but died away. Despite himself, Alex found himself straightening up from his relaxed slump ever so slightly as Dr. Pace surveyed them silently for a moment, grey eyes piercing even behind Clark Kent-like glasses.
“Welcome to World History. This is a freshman-level Gen Ed class, and I’m Dr. Malcolm Pace, so if this isn’t where you’re supposed to be, I’d advise you to consult the map in your student handbook and be on your way.” His tone was even and businesslike, amplified only slightly by the PA system, and the few students still out of their seats quickly found them, falling silent before the unmistakable ring of authority in the professor’s voice. “If you’re a History major, particularly focused on ancient civilizations, specifically Greek or Roman or Egyptian, then we’ll likely be seeing each other again in the coming semesters, since I’m the co-chair of the History department and teach several of those classes. If you’d like to stay after class today and discuss any questions you might have regarding that, you’re more than welcome to do so. Now...”
Coming around the front of the table, he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the surface behind him just slightly.
“...If you’re not a History major…which I would imagine is probably most of you, considering that this is a Gen Ed course that is required to graduate from this institution...then I’ll do my best to keep things interesting and relevant, so you don’t feel like this class is a waste of your time. In return, I expect you to show up regularly, speak up in class at least twice this semester, and complete your assignments on time.”
Half-turning, Dr. Pace picked up his attendance book and started flipping through it as he went on. “Just a few more things before I take role and pass out the syllabus. First, I’m not going to do assigned seats. You’re in college, not elementary school, so I’m going to trust that you all will not fight over who is sitting where, and that you’ll be honest when I pass around the attendance sheet. Just know that if I do notice that you were absent that day, and yet your name somehow miraculously appeared on the sign-in roster in handwriting that is very different than usual, I will assign you a seat.” A wry half-smile pulled at one side of his mouth as he gestured to the stretch of empty seats at the very front of the classroom. “Right here in the front row. You’ll find it a lot harder to skip class after that, I assure you, so don’t lie, and don’t have your friends lie for you.”
As Dr. Pace went on, Alex started to zone out a bit. All of this was obvious, basic college stuff, and he was a sophomore. He’d attend class regularly like he was supposed to, and there wasn’t anyone in here who would sign his name for him anyway, so that part was moot. Let’s get on to the actual course material already, just give us the syllabus so I can figure how much of my time this class is going to take, he thought, but Dr. Pace had one more point to make...and for Alex, it was the worst possible one he could’ve made.
“As I said before, this is a freshman-level class. It isn’t difficult as long as you do the reading and pay attention to the lectures--it isn’t designed to be difficult. And yet, a regrettable number of students still manage to fail or almost-fail this class every semester. To be honest, I’m tired of seeing bright young people like yourselves failing History 101-”
“It’s History 1001!” interjected a bold voice from the other side of the room, receiving a few snorts and titters of laughter in response. Alex had been thinking exactly that, as a matter of fact, but he knew from experience to pick his battles, and he’d decided already that Dr. Pace wasn’t someone he particularly wanted to tangle with, if he could avoid it. It had been a figure of speech, in any case, and even if it hadn’t been, it wasn’t nearly good enough of a reason to put himself on the professor’s bad side on the very first day of class.
Someone else certainly didn’t mind running that kind of risk, though. Alex, along with most of the rest of the class, craned his neck a bit, trying to get a look at the student who’d spoken out: a lean, rangy Asian guy wearing a nondescript raglan tee, with dark hair that was spiked up artfully, and an impish look about his handsome face that all but screamed wise-ass.
“It certainly is, Mr. Katou,” Dr. Pace replied with hardly a second’s pause. “Though since this will be your second time taking this class, I should imagine that you’re very well aware of the course title.”
There was twice the amount of muffled laughter this time, as well as a loud stage-whisper of oooooh, burn!; the wise-ass student just shrugged and gave a hey-what-can-you-do? sort of smile, and Dr. Pace moved on without giving him another moment of attention.
“As I was saying, seeing new students fail this class simply because they lack the proper study skills is wearing thin. Which is why I’ve been granted permission to implement a buddy system this semester, to help you all stay afloat.”
A wave of low groans echoed through the room as Dr. Pace began passing out the syllabus, but the professor chose to ignore them.
“You’re free to choose your groups for yourself, but you have to have at least two people total in your group, and no more than five. Anything else will just make it harder for you to coordinate your meet-ups. If you’re still failing, or visibly struggling, despite having your group, I might mix you up a bit. Be sure to choose your groups wisely, because these are the people you’ll also be doing your end-of-semester presentation with. Understood? Any questions?”
There was silence, save for low murmuring between neighbors and the odd nervous giggle, so Dr. Pace gave a curt, satisfied nod.
“Get your groups settled, then I’ll come around to take attendance and we can get started for real. Mr. Katou, come see me up front, if you would...”
While everyone else in the room started shifting around, swapping seats and cell phone numbers and sometimes introducing themselves, Alex didn’t so much as flick a glance sideways towards the rest of the students. Instead he bent his head over the syllabus, entering the dates for quizzes, tests, and the final paper into his phone’s calendar. Assigned reading was the take-home for today, the first half of chapter one and a few online articles, all of which they were required to comment on using the course message board. Looks like pretty basic stuff to me. I don’t know why he thinks we need so much hand-holding for this, Alex thought to himself, and for lack of anything better to do, he started on the reading.
He hadn’t gotten too terribly far when someone standing in the aisle beside him cleared their throat pointedly, and when he glanced up from his textbook, Alex found himself looking up into the critical and unamused face of Dr. Pace.
So much for not putting myself on his bad side right away.
“Admirable as it is that you’re jumping right into the homework already, Mr...?”
“Faulkner. Alex Faulkner.”
“Mr. Faulkner,” Dr. Pace said, jotting down a brief note in his attendance book, “You seem to be missing your group. You need one more person.”
“I’m afraid I really don’t, sir,” Alex said, attempting what he hoped looked like a sheepish smile. He kept his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to the discussion he was having with their teacher--if he made it look like he was taking a stand, then Dr. Pace would definitely insist on sticking him in a group just to save face. But if he could just lay out his reasoning...then he might stand a chance of swaying the older man. “I don’t really work well with others, and I’m a transfer student, not a freshman. I know how to study already, and I honestly don’t have time to meet up with other people to do something that I can do just as well on my own.”
“Yes, but while you might not be a new student overall, you are a new student here at Carrington University, at least.”
A sinking feeling started in the pit of Alex’s stomach. “Yes, sir,” he admitted, struggling to sound respectful, and to keep his growing annoyance out of his voice, “though I don’t really see why that matters. Study skills don’t vary from university to university. You can look at my GPA--I don’t have a 4.0 average or anything, but I already know how to not fail my classes--and I’m going to be working part-time to help cover my college tuition. I don’t think a study group is going to fit into my schedule.” Alex let a hint of desperation seep into his expression, giving Dr. Pace his very best please, sir, don’t saddle me with a group of clueless morons look.
Dr. Pace tapped a thoughtful rhythm on his attendance book with the tip of his mechanical pencil, clearly considering the situation. “Be that as it may,” he said at last, and slowly, as if he were still thinking it over even as he spoke, “It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else if you got to do things alone, would it.” The same sort of wry half-smile from before turned one corner of his mouth up ever so slightly, and Alex could have sworn there was a brief, mischievous twinkle in those grey eyes. “...However, to save you the trouble of having to deal with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, let’s pair you off with one of this class’s other sophomores... Bianca!”
Dr. Pace’s attention moved somewhere across the room, beckoning someone over. Alex did his best not to be too conspicuous about turning to look over his shoulder, but failed spectacularly by doing a very obvious double-take when he saw just who was headed their way: a cheerfully-smiling, sporty-looking, extremely pretty blonde girl.
She’d raised her head the instant Dr. Pace had called her name, quickly standing up and then leaning down to give the rest of her group of obvious jocks a grin and some low-key parting comment that left them all chuckling before she came bounding across the room with an energetic, fluid sort of grace that clearly marked her as an athlete.
Alex wanted to die. This was someone who wouldn’t waste his time? He didn’t know how he would he ever even be able to talk to her, much less study with her regularly or do a group project with her. He couldn’t judge her for being blonde--it looked natural, not dyed, but either way, hair color was no basis for intelligence--but going by her outfit, her physique, and her group of friends, she looked like a jock, and he’d never had anything in common with that particular type of person. Not to mention the fact that she was beautiful--intimidatingly so--and that he hadn’t had all that much practice talking to...well, much of anyone, not just members of the opposite sex.
“What’s up, Dr. P?” the blonde chirped, casually shoving her hands into the front pockets of her jeans as she came to stand on the stair above their History 1001 professor. She happened to glance down at Alex, perhaps sensing his eyes on her, and instead of looking shocked or appalled by his intentionally edgy fashion choices, she flashed him a quick, bright smile that was so honest and sincere, it made Alex’s breath catch a little.
“Bianca, this is Alex Faulkner. Alex, this is Bianca Jackson.” Dr. Pace gave her a stern look over the tops of his glasses as he went on, “Mr. Faulkner has expressed considerable skepticism about the usefulness and necessity of the peer study groups I’ve implemented. However, I can appreciate his reluctance since, like you, he is also a sophomore; therefore, I would like the two of you to work together, since you both have busy schedules. Which is why I very much doubt that either of you will waste the other’s time.”
Instead of protesting or complaining, or even so much as frowning in annoyance, Bianca just gave a shrug and a nod of acknowledgement. “Sounds good, Dr. P.,” she said, and as the professor moved on to the next group of students, she leaned in towards Alex a bit to say in a stage whisper, “I think I would’ve ended up doing all the work in that other group anyway.”
Across the room, the biggest, brawniest guy in Bianca’s former group gave a rich, rolling laugh. “Ohhh, I KNOW I didn’t just hear you say that, Bianca Jackson! Shut up, girl, you’re full of it!”
Bianca just grinned back at him, unapologetic. “Shut up yourself, JaQuan Smith! Admit it, you guys don’t know what you’re gonna do without me.”
JaQuan just gave another belly laugh as Bianca turned back to Alex, still smiling. “Hey, I know this is sudden, and maybe I’m moving a little too fast since we just met, but...can I have your number?”
Her light tone, her playful smile, the spark of mischief in her sea-green eyes: all of it was the last thing that Alex had expected to find turned his way. His jaw dropped, and he went red to the tips of his ears, though he ducked his head quickly in a (mostly successful) attempt to hide his reaction, using the excuse of digging through his bag for his phone as the reason for looking away so abruptly.
“Sure,” he said, though his voice came out softer than usual, and he had to swallow hard, twice, before he even dared try to speak. But, he thought with a deep scowl as he thumbed his contacts list open, at least my voice sounded steady, and didn’t crack. Thank heaven for small mercies. “Though you could just email me,” he added a moment later, once he was more certain of his vocal control. He turned a flat, uninterested stare up at the blonde, quirking one eyebrow (the one with the piercing) at her ever so slightly. “I mean, now that you know my name, you should know my school email address, too.” Like most college email addresses, it was a purposeful and utterly unimaginative afaulkner@carringtonu.edu. Hers was the same, bjackson@carringtonu.edu, he was sure.
“I coooooould, sure,” Bianca replied, seemingly unfazed by his vaguely condescending statement, then flashed him another grin, this one toothy and devilish. “But where’s the fun in that?”
This time Alex was ready for her, though, and managed to keep himself from blushing so horrifically again, though his face still felt a little hot.
“This is school. Put in your time, get your diploma,” he grumbled, turning his phone’s screen towards her to show her his number; Bianca glanced at the screen once, then entered it into her own phone with lightning speed. “It isn’t meant to be fun.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Faulkner,” Bianca said as she tucked her phone away and turned to go, a lofty, corrective note in her tone and a gleam in her eye, “this is college. It’s meant to be one of the most fun and fulfilling times of our lives. We get all the privileges of adulthood, and none of the responsibilities.”
Alex watched her go, then realized what he was doing (particularly where he was looking) and turned to face the front of the classroom again so quickly that the world spun for a second. That dizzy, slightly-sick feeling didn’t completely dissipate, however, and he bit back a groan as he slumped down in his seat a little more.
Doomed. He was completely, utterly doomed.
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter One
It was only the first day of his first class during his first semester at Carrington University, and new sophomore Alex Faulkner was pretty sure that his GPA was history. It didn’t escape him that the actual class he was currently sitting in was also history--World History 1001, to be precise--but that seemed somehow fitting. Poetic justice, of a sort.
The first fifteen minutes hadn’t been so bad. Alex had been on time, and had secured an inner aisle seat in the upper-middle of the room. Better yet, he’d done it quickly enough that no one had felt inclined to take the seat beside him, leaving him plenty of space. His choice of clothing might have had something to do with that: he’d gone full-out punk rock today, slewing into goth territory a bit as well, which often made people think twice about approaching him. Plenty of people had taken one look at his black nail polish, the studded leather bands around his wrists and neck, the rings in his ears, lip, eyebrow, and nose, and his ragged long-sleeve fishnet shirt beneath an equally ragged black shirt with skulls messily painted on it in what almost looked like blood, and moved along to the next row a little more quickly. The flat, almost hostile stare he’d used to meet their curious glances had only made them hurry along a little faster, and quickly drop their eyes in the bargain.
Seeing that had made it hard not to smile, or at least smirk, especially when one or two of the preppier-looking students had nearly tripped up the stairs in their haste to move away. Perfect.
Alex preferred to be alone, and to be left alone--his father, Bill Faulkner, was a career Air Force officer, and they’d moved around every couple years or so all throughout Alex’s life. Even in today’s world that was so wirelessly connected by the internet, it was hard to make and keep friends when you knew you’d only be around a few years; by the time he’d gotten to high school, he’d stopped putting any real effort into finding friends, and by the time he’d started his freshman year of college, Alex had given up on it completely. He’d hardly exchanged so much as ten words with the same classmate that whole year, and that had been just fine with him.
Things wouldn’t be any different here at Carrington, Alex was certain. He’d transferred to this university because, once again, Bill Faulkner had been reassigned, this time from Wright-Pat near Dayton, Ohio to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling in Washington D.C., and Carrington University had been close, convenient, and not horribly expensive or hard to get into. He’d lived at home his freshman year of college, and while it would’ve been possible, even easy, to simply move into one of the dorms at Wright State and finish out his four years there, instead Alex had transferred without a second thought, without even speaking to his father about it. He’d had no attachments there, after all; his loyalty was to his father, regardless of how rocky their relationship had gotten over the past several years. The idea of leaving Bill alone was an acutely disagreeable one--Gemma, Alex’s mother, had walked out on them both eight years ago, and while she stayed in touch via phone calls and email, and he visited her and her new family fairly often, there was still a lingering sting of betrayal there. Alex loved and admired many things about his mother, but that self-centered free-spiritedness that had let her leave was one thing he didn’t like, and one way that he never wanted to be like her. He was simply too devoted, too dutiful, to ever abandon Bill, regardless of the personal cost he had to pay for that allegiance.
Friendship wasn’t all that important to him, anyway, or so he’d decided to believe. Everything was easier that way. The fewer ties he had, the simpler things were.
At that moment, Alex’s attention was drawn down the front of the classroom by the entrance of their teacher. Dr. Malcolm Pace was tall, blond, and obviously well-muscled even beneath his suit jacket and button-down shirt with its precisely-pressed collar and matching tie. He moved with purpose, setting his leather bag down on the table beside the lectern and pulling out a folder, notebook, and what was likely an attendance book, all without any unnecessary fumbling or digging around in his bag, clipped a mini microphone to his lapel, then turned his attention up and outwards, towards his students.
The pre-class chatter had dwindled to a few individuals on his entrance, and now it all but died away. Despite himself, Alex found himself straightening up from his relaxed slump ever so slightly as Dr. Pace surveyed them silently for a moment, grey eyes piercing even behind Clark Kent-like glasses.
“Welcome to World History. This is a freshman-level Gen Ed class, and I’m Dr. Malcolm Pace, so if this isn’t where you’re supposed to be, I’d advise you to consult the map in your student handbook and be on your way.” His tone was even and businesslike, amplified only slightly by the PA system, and the few students still out of their seats quickly found them, falling silent before the unmistakable ring of authority in the professor’s voice. “If you’re a History major, particularly focused on ancient civilizations, specifically Greek or Roman or Egyptian, then we’ll likely be seeing each other again in the coming semesters, since I’m the co-chair of the History department and teach several of those classes. If you’d like to stay after class today and discuss any questions you might have regarding that, you’re more than welcome to do so. Now...”
Coming around the front of the table, he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the surface behind him just slightly.
“...If you’re not a History major…which I would imagine is probably most of you, considering that this is a Gen Ed course that is required to graduate from this institution...then I’ll do my best to keep things interesting and relevant, so you don’t feel like this class is a waste of your time. In return, I expect you to show up regularly, speak up in class at least twice this semester, and complete your assignments on time.”
Half-turning, Dr. Pace picked up his attendance book and started flipping through it as he went on. “Just a few more things before I take role and pass out the syllabus. First, I’m not going to do assigned seats. You’re in college, not elementary school, so I’m going to trust that you all will not fight over who is sitting where, and that you’ll be honest when I pass around the attendance sheet. Just know that if I do notice that you were absent that day, and yet your name somehow miraculously appeared on the sign-in roster in handwriting that is very different than usual, I will assign you a seat.” A wry half-smile pulled at one side of his mouth as he gestured to the stretch of empty seats at the very front of the classroom. “Right here in the front row. You’ll find it a lot harder to skip class after that, I assure you, so don’t lie, and don’t have your friends lie for you.”
As Dr. Pace went on, Alex started to zone out a bit. All of this was obvious, basic college stuff, and he was a sophomore. He’d attend class regularly like he was supposed to, and there wasn’t anyone in here who would sign his name for him anyway, so that part was moot. Let’s get on to the actual course material already, just give us the syllabus so I can figure how much of my time this class is going to take, he thought, but Dr. Pace had one more point to make...and for Alex, it was the worst possible one he could’ve made.
“As I said before, this is a freshman-level class. It isn’t difficult as long as you do the reading and pay attention to the lectures--it isn’t designed to be difficult. And yet, a regrettable number of students still manage to fail or almost-fail this class every semester. To be honest, I’m tired of seeing bright young people like yourselves failing History 101-”
“It’s History 1001!” interjected a bold voice from the other side of the room, receiving a few snorts and titters of laughter in response. Alex had been thinking exactly that, as a matter of fact, but he knew from experience to pick his battles, and he’d decided already that Dr. Pace wasn’t someone he particularly wanted to tangle with, if he could avoid it. It had been a figure of speech, in any case, and even if it hadn’t been, it wasn’t nearly good enough of a reason to put himself on the professor’s bad side on the very first day of class.
Someone else certainly didn’t mind running that kind of risk, though. Alex, along with most of the rest of the class, craned his neck a bit, trying to get a look at the student who’d spoken out: a lean, rangy Asian guy wearing a nondescript raglan tee, with dark hair that was spiked up artfully, and an impish look about his handsome face that all but screamed wise-ass.
“It certainly is, Mr. Katou,” Dr. Pace replied with hardly a second’s pause. “Though since this will be your second time taking this class, I should imagine that you’re very well aware of the course title.”
There was twice the amount of muffled laughter this time, as well as a loud stage-whisper of oooooh, burn!; the wise-ass student just shrugged and gave a hey-what-can-you-do? sort of smile, and Dr. Pace moved on without giving him another moment of attention.
“As I was saying, seeing new students fail this class simply because they lack the proper study skills is wearing thin. Which is why I’ve been granted permission to implement a buddy system this semester, to help you all stay afloat.”
A wave of low groans echoed through the room as Dr. Pace began passing out the syllabus, but the professor chose to ignore them.
“You’re free to choose your groups for yourself, but you have to have at least two people total in your group, and no more than five. Anything else will just make it harder for you to coordinate your meet-ups. If you’re still failing, or visibly struggling, despite having your group, I might mix you up a bit. Be sure to choose your groups wisely, because these are the people you’ll also be doing your end-of-semester presentation with. Understood? Any questions?”
There was silence, save for low murmuring between neighbors and the odd nervous giggle, so Dr. Pace gave a curt, satisfied nod.
“Get your groups settled, then I’ll come around to take attendance and we can get started for real. Mr. Katou, come see me up front, if you would...”
While everyone else in the room started shifting around, swapping seats and cell phone numbers and sometimes introducing themselves, Alex didn’t so much as flick a glance sideways towards the rest of the students. Instead he bent his head over the syllabus, entering the dates for quizzes, tests, and the final paper into his phone’s calendar. Assigned reading was the take-home for today, the first half of chapter one and a few online articles, all of which they were required to comment on using the course message board. Looks like pretty basic stuff to me. I don’t know why he thinks we need so much hand-holding for this, Alex thought to himself, and for lack of anything better to do, he started on the reading.
He hadn’t gotten too terribly far when someone standing in the aisle beside him cleared their throat pointedly, and when he glanced up from his textbook, Alex found himself looking up into the critical and unamused face of Dr. Pace.
So much for not putting myself on his bad side right away.
“Admirable as it is that you’re jumping right into the homework already, Mr...?”
“Faulkner. Alex Faulkner.”
“Mr. Faulkner,” Dr. Pace said, jotting down a brief note in his attendance book, “You seem to be missing your group. You need one more person.”
“I’m afraid I really don’t, sir,” Alex said, attempting what he hoped looked like a sheepish smile. He kept his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to the discussion he was having with their teacher--if he made it look like he was taking a stand, then Dr. Pace would definitely insist on sticking him in a group just to save face. But if he could just lay out his reasoning...then he might stand a chance of swaying the older man. “I don’t really work well with others, and I’m a transfer student, not a freshman. I know how to study already, and I honestly don’t have time to meet up with other people to do something that I can do just as well on my own.”
“Yes, but while you might not be a new student overall, you are a new student here at Carrington University, at least.”
A sinking feeling started in the pit of Alex’s stomach. “Yes, sir,” he admitted, struggling to sound respectful, and to keep his growing annoyance out of his voice, “though I don’t really see why that matters. Study skills don’t vary from university to university. You can look at my GPA--I don’t have a 4.0 average or anything, but I already know how to not fail my classes--and I’m going to be working part-time to help cover my college tuition. I don’t think a study group is going to fit into my schedule.” Alex let a hint of desperation seep into his expression, giving Dr. Pace his very best please, sir, don’t saddle me with a group of clueless morons look.
Dr. Pace tapped a thoughtful rhythm on his attendance book with the tip of his mechanical pencil, clearly considering the situation. “Be that as it may,” he said at last, and slowly, as if he were still thinking it over even as he spoke, “It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else if you got to do things alone, would it.” The same sort of wry half-smile from before turned one corner of his mouth up ever so slightly, and Alex could have sworn there was a brief, mischievous twinkle in those grey eyes. “...However, to save you the trouble of having to deal with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, let’s pair you off with one of this class’s other sophomores... Bianca!”
Dr. Pace’s attention moved somewhere across the room, beckoning someone over. Alex did his best not to be too conspicuous about turning to look over his shoulder, but failed spectacularly by doing a very obvious double-take when he saw just who was headed their way: a cheerfully-smiling, sporty-looking, extremely pretty blonde girl.
She’d raised her head the instant Dr. Pace had called her name, quickly standing up and then leaning down to give the rest of her group of obvious jocks a grin and some low-key parting comment that left them all chuckling before she came bounding across the room with an energetic, fluid sort of grace that clearly marked her as an athlete.
Alex wanted to die. This was someone who wouldn’t waste his time? He didn’t know how he would he ever even be able to talk to her, much less study with her regularly or do a group project with her. He couldn’t judge her for being blonde--it looked natural, not dyed, but either way, hair color was no basis for intelligence--but going by her outfit, her physique, and her group of friends, she looked like a jock, and he’d never had anything in common with that particular type of person. Not to mention the fact that she was beautiful--intimidatingly so--and that he hadn’t had all that much practice talking to...well, much of anyone, not just members of the opposite sex.
“What’s up, Dr. P?” the blonde chirped, casually shoving her hands into the front pockets of her jeans as she came to stand on the stair above their History 1001 professor. She happened to glance down at Alex, perhaps sensing his eyes on her, and instead of looking shocked or appalled by his intentionally edgy fashion choices, she flashed him a quick, bright smile that was so honest and sincere, it made Alex’s breath catch a little.
“Bianca, this is Alex Faulkner. Alex, this is Bianca Jackson.” Dr. Pace gave her a stern look over the tops of his glasses as he went on, “Mr. Faulkner has expressed considerable skepticism about the usefulness and necessity of the peer study groups I’ve implemented. However, I can appreciate his reluctance since, like you, he is also a sophomore; therefore, I would like the two of you to work together, since you both have busy schedules. Which is why I very much doubt that either of you will waste the other’s time.”
Instead of protesting or complaining, or even so much as frowning in annoyance, Bianca just gave a shrug and a nod of acknowledgement. “Sounds good, Dr. P.,” she said, and as the professor moved on to the next group of students, she leaned in towards Alex a bit to say in a stage whisper, “I think I would’ve ended up doing all the work in that other group anyway.”
Across the room, the biggest, brawniest guy in Bianca’s former group gave a rich, rolling laugh. “Ohhh, I KNOW I didn’t just hear you say that, Bianca Jackson! Shut up, girl, you’re full of it!”
Bianca just grinned back at him, unapologetic. “Shut up yourself, JaQuan Smith! Admit it, you guys don’t know what you’re gonna do without me.”
JaQuan just gave another belly laugh as Bianca turned back to Alex, still smiling. “Hey, I know this is sudden, and maybe I’m moving a little too fast since we just met, but...can I have your number?”
Her light tone, her playful smile, the spark of mischief in her sea-green eyes: all of it was the last thing that Alex had expected to find turned his way. His jaw dropped, and he went red to the tips of his ears, though he ducked his head quickly in a (mostly successful) attempt to hide his reaction, using the excuse of digging through his bag for his phone as the reason for looking away so abruptly.
“Sure,” he said, though his voice came out softer than usual, and he had to swallow hard, twice, before he even dared try to speak. But, he thought with a deep scowl as he thumbed his contacts list open, at least my voice sounded steady, and didn’t crack. Thank heaven for small mercies. “Though you could just email me,” he added a moment later, once he was more certain of his vocal control. He turned a flat, uninterested stare up at the blonde, quirking one eyebrow (the one with the piercing) at her ever so slightly. “I mean, now that you know my name, you should know my school email address, too.” Like most college email addresses, it was a purposeful and utterly unimaginative afaulkner@carringtonu.edu. Hers was the same, bjackson@carringtonu.edu, he was sure.
“I coooooould, sure,” Bianca replied, seemingly unfazed by his vaguely condescending statement, then flashed him another grin, this one toothy and devilish. “But where’s the fun in that?”
This time Alex was ready for her, though, and managed to keep himself from blushing so horrifically again, though his face still felt a little hot.
“This is school. Put in your time, get your diploma,” he grumbled, turning his phone’s screen towards her to show her his number; Bianca glanced at the screen once, then entered it into her own phone with lightning speed. “It isn’t meant to be fun.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Faulkner,” Bianca said as she tucked her phone away and turned to go, a lofty, corrective note in her tone and a gleam in her eye, “this is college. It’s meant to be one of the most fun and fulfilling times of our lives. We get all the privileges of adulthood, and none of the responsibilities.”
Alex watched her go, then realized what he was doing (particularly where he was looking) and turned to face the front of the classroom again so quickly that the world spun for a second. That dizzy, slightly-sick feeling didn’t completely dissipate, however, and he bit back a groan as he slumped down in his seat a little more.
Doomed. He was completely, utterly doomed.
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