Page 11 of Already Falling

My intrusive thoughts tell me to drop out, but that will never happen. It means too much to my parents and my family that I see this through. I graduated high school with honors. It only makes sense that I go to college and continue the good streak. I’d be the first of my family to graduate college with a degree. I picture the future with my parents at my graduation as I walk across the stage with my diploma. That thought alone makes each day I climb out of bed to sit through a lecture on “Quantitative Methods of Business” worth it.

Moving on from my existential dread.

My outfit, or as I like to call it, my uniform, consists of high-waisted “boyfriend” jeans, a slouchy graphic tee, and a crew neck sweater that I tie around my shoulders. San Diego is seemingly always above seventy-five degrees, but the professors insist on keeping their classrooms at a bone-chilling sixty-two degrees, so a sweater is a necessity. I learned the hard way my first week of freshman year when I was giving the entire lecture hall a peep show through my tank top. My graphic tee today is a faded dark gray *NSYNC T-shirt. I slip on my dirty white Converse high-tops and grab my bag, chucking in a few books.

I smooch Chloe on the forehead before she pulls the covers over her face. “Bye, Chlo, don’t miss class at eleven!” I yell at her before leaving our room.

I walk past a few other students studying on the plush bean bags in the lounge as I head through the halls of our dorm. Zura Hall isn’t anything special with its gray carpets and gray walls except for the “pop” color wall here and there. The lounge has a tangerine orange wall with a cork board where people tack flyers and notes. At least it’s a little more updated than the other dorm buildings, and lucky for me, it’s only three buildings down from my first class of the day.

The sun burns my eyes immediately as I walk outside, and I scramble to fish my sunglasses out of my giant tote bag. I will never get used to how the sun in Southern California can somehow see into my soul with its brightness. Even though I grew up a few hours from San Diego, it feels like I’m in the Mojave desert down here.

Even in the morning, the sun is out at the crack of dawn as if saying, “Good Morning Anni! It’s time to face the rest of your life!”

As I strut along one of the winding paths toward my lecture hall, I spot Isaac in the corner of my eye, walking in the same direction. Before I get the chance to swivel away so he doesn’t see me, he immediately spots me and jogs over, yelling my name and waving his hands around in the air. Crap.

Isaac’s been my neighbor growing up through childhood, so we’ve stayed friendly enough to each other. It is nice to know someone else from our hometown here. I can tolerate him most of the time, but he is always trying to get me to come to one of his parties. I went to one at the start of freshman year, and it was something I’d never like to relive. His fraternity, Delta Psi, is no doubt the party, wild boy frat. They throw parties almost every weekend and it usually consists of music that is too loud, beer that is watered down, and frat guys trying to feel you up whenever you walk past. His frat brothers, especially the upperclassman, are a little too eager to get their hands on all the new pretty girls that show up for their parties, and unfortunately, I was one of those at that first party I attended.

Isaac is nearly out of breath after his thirty-second jog over to me. “Hey, Anni! How’s it hanging? We missed you at last weekend’s rager.”

I roll my eyes, and my gaze goes down to inspect his outfit today. He is wearing dark blue cargo shorts and a brick red shirt that reads “Don’t Worry, I Pull Out!” with a winking cartoon loveseat below it. Sick.

“Yeah, you know I haven’t shown up to one of your parties ever since Trey grabbed my ass within the first minute of walking in,” I say as I try to keep walking toward my class, hoping Isaac gets the hint that I don’t want to have a morning chit-chat.

“Well, I hope you change your mind. This weekend is my birthday, and hopefully, you can make an exception for me.”

He strokes my arm and gives me the worst display of puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see about that. I have a lot of studying to do, and exams are next week.”

Which isn’t a complete lie? I do have a quiz in my photography elective class. And it’s not so much of a quiz and more so we have to submit all the pictures we’ve taken in the past month. Still, I’d rather get a root canal than go to another Delta Psi party.

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s not hosted by my frat. Well, I guess, yes, it is technically at the frat house, but I’m hosting it and only inviting my closest compadres.” He finishes with a wink and finger guns.

I roll my eyes, pondering over the possibility of maybe going to another college party. It does help the smallest bit that Isaac is in charge of the guess list. Isaac’s friends are mostly guys in his major, a few other people from our high school, and Chloe and I.

“Chances are still slim, but I’ll let you know. Gotta get to class, see ya.”

He does a double-air punch as if he’s made a touchdown and waves goodbye as he saunters to the building next to my lecture hall. The invitation lingers in my mind a bit longer as I consider actually going. I’m not sure why, but a part of me is drawn to go to this party. Not because it’s Isaac’s birthday. I really couldn’t care less about that. I feel like I should be going to more parties and outings as a college student. It’s only been a few months, but I am in the same routine of waking up, going to class, getting lunch with Chloe, doing homework, rinse, and repeat.

Occasionally Chloe and I venture out to the beach or thrift shops. Even though I’m away at college, it feels like I’m not getting the college experience. I haven’t even made any actual new friends since being here. I can’t even remember the names of my suite mates I share a bathroom with. Is it Charlotte and Abby? No, no, I think it’s Carly and Aimee. Shit, I’m the worst roommate.

All I know about Carly and Aimee is what they look like and that they are always trying to get Chloe and me to go partying with them. Carly is the louder of the two. She is always singing out loud with her headphones in, and we can clearly hear her through the shared wall. She’s almost six feet tall and has envious long silky brown hair. I think she’s here on a volleyball scholarship. Aimee is the polar opposite, standing at just under five feet tall with a short blond pixie cut. She’s studying archeology or anthropology. Or was it architecture? I really should get to know them better.

With Chloe being my roommate and studying the same major as me, we see each other all the time. It’s effortless for us to stick to each other like glue. Even a handful of people from my hometown go to UCSD, like Isaac, but what’s the point of hanging out with anyone else when I can hang out with my favorite person? The guilt of feeling like I should do more and not doing enough sticks to me, and I try to brush it off as I walk into the lecture hall. I need to focus on class and pretend like this is what I’m supposed to be doing.

“Class was brutal. Mr. Tahoma lectured for two hours straight. I was starting to hear him like a Peanuts teacher by the end of it.” Chloe slides into the picnic table seat with her lunch tray. She is vegan this week, so her lunch consists of iceberg lettuce, an array of fruit slices, and a cup of baked beans.

I cannot help but notice how her outfit today is so sweet and effortless. She can do the smallest amount and still look like a goddess. Her long, ashy blond hair has two braids on either side of her face while the rest cascades down her back in a mass of tangled curls. She is wearing her trusty paint-splattered overalls with a white tank top underneath and Rainbow-brand flip-flops. Her fair skin has freckled quite a bit in the San Diego sun. She pulls out a tube of strawberry lip balm and reapplies. I cannot believe she still uses those, but she swears the scents are better than any other brand. I think it tastes like candle wax.

“Can you bring me dinner tonight when you come to the show? I won’t have time to pick up anything because I need to set up my stall,” Chloe says, scooping a portion of beans in her mouth.

“Sure, you want a bean and cheese burrito?”

Chloe winces and looks at me like I said something dumb. “Cheese is not vegan.”

“Well, then, what, beans only?”

“Yes, actually, that’s perfect.” She nods and smiles.