***
The professor stands in front of a bulky laptop. Beside her, the class syllabus is projected on the white pull down screen. Coley plops heavily into a seat near the back, forcing herself to breathe normally.
To Coley's horror, the professor pauses and turns from the screen.
"And what is your name?" The professor's voice is a bit rough with age. Her pointed hat and sleek black gown are not exactly appropriate for the still-humid August days.
"Coley," Coley squeaks. She feels annoyingly bright in comparison with her twin tails and light pink collared blouse. Was there a mark on her face from the rebel Frisbee?
"Well, Coley," the professor says, "You're just in time for introductions. As you all know, I am Professor McGonagall."
Dr. McGonagall, one of the nation's leading researchers in Tropes. And Coley's first impression is that of a chronically late, pink mouse.
"We have a diverse range of majors and minors in this course," McGonagall continues. "Fandom history, film, media, sociology, and so on. Some of you are taking this course as an elective, and others in preparation for your capstone course next semester."
Oh, like Coley needed a reminder.
"But no matter the case, you are all interested in a subject that intersects with a variety of fields: Tropes."
A few of the students nod along. Now that Coley isn't red-face and panting, she realizes the class is quite small. She counts fifteen students in all, but knows that academic interest in Tropes is exponentially growing. Early enrollment is perhaps the only reason Coley is sitting in this class, with a revered professor and an experimental curriculum ahead of her.
"Because you are all from different disciplines and walks of life," McGonagall says, hands held primly in front of her, "I would like to go around the room. Please state your major, minor, year, and Trope."
Something like a record scratch plays in Coley's head.
"Coley, we'll start with you."
Coley nervously scans the rows of students, most now turned back to face her. This is it. Everyone in this room will know the truth she tries her hardest to conceal.
Coley Payne does not have a Trope.
At that exact moment, Coley locks eyes with a student sitting near the back. Coley would recognize her short, two-toned hair anywhere. Her bleached bangs fall in a deep part over her dark eyes. The laptop in front of her is turned to the side, revealing the writing and art-themed stickers Coley has spotted across a room many times.
Library girl.
Fuck.
***
"A girl you've never talked to knows you don't have a Trope. So what?" Jackson says.
"So what?!" Coley hisses. She slams a lid on a vanilla latte with a bit too much force.
Their conversation pauses as Coley calls out a name underneath the "Pick-up Here" sign. A customer jogs up to the tray Coley places the cup on and thanks her. But instead of retreating, the nerdy-looking student grabs a napkin from the stand beside them and pulls out a pen.
YOU ARE READING
Coley Does Cindy: Because Coley Asked For It
Fanfiction• Summary • At Trope University, every student is looking to find their Trope. Many find love at the college coffee shop or gym. Enemies turn to lovers and mutual pining is resolved between class periods. For nerdy and shy Coley, things are a diffe...
