Dahlia's whole life is flipped upside down when her eccentric aunt enrolls her in a prestigious university in England. She is forced to make friends with a rather eclectic group of people and adapt to her new lifestyle all while trying to find the a...
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At 9:15, my alarm jolted me out of my dreamless sleep.
As an eighteen-year-old, I've had many first days of school, but I could say without a doubt that this was easily the most nerve-wracking. Being in a foreign country definitely contributed to that, but beyond that, this first day was intimidating for more reasons. I felt that there was immense pressure on how I should act and dress because everyone was so proper and carried themselves with an air of class and elegance, like they themselves were made of the same old stone, ivy, gold, marble, and dark wood that the university was made of. All throughout my school years in the United States, I would wear jeans and a simple shirt, maybe a flannel or crewneck, but nothing fancy, for the sake of being comfortable. So, naturally, I was out of my element when I put on a white collared shirt with a new burgundy sweater over it, and a white skirt. Still no heels.
I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on some light makeup. I figured it would be best to have my hair back for art class, so I pulled my hair back into a low French twist style, and secured it with a clip. The shorter strands of my hair fell out and framed my face. I walked over to the coffee maker so I could make myself an iced coffee, and noticed a sticky note placed on top.
'Dahlia, Good luck on your first day. I know it can be frightening, but you'll get through. Call me if you need anything. - A'
On a separate sticky note, Atlas, who had already left for class, wrote down her number, and it was weird to think that we hadn't exchanged numbers yet. I typed it into my phone to create a contact, and continued making my coffee.
I checked the time to see that I still had about twenty minutes until class started, but I decided I should get going because I couldn't risk being late on the first day, so I rushed to drink my coffee. Then, I put my laptop, a sketchbook, a pen, and a pencil in my laptop bag, grabbed my purse, and left the dorm, locking it behind me.
I looked at the picture of my class schedule that I had in my phone, and saw that my class was in the South Building - room 115. I walked across the quad and entered the building, turning to go the opposite direction of the cafe. I found the correct room, and with ten minutes to spare, I walked inside.
It was a small lecture room, with four rows of seats, the highest level of seats in the back. On each level, there were eight chairs, each with an easel and canvas set up in front. Beside every easel was a small table with paints, a cup of water, and a cup full of different sized paintbrushes. There were already a few students in the room - three in the front row, five in the back, and one in the second and third. I made my way to the third row, sitting down in the fourth chair from the right. As the time passed, more students filled up the room, until every seat was taken except for one in the second row, three in from the right, diagonally in front of me. With only one minute to spare, the last student entered the room.
