Fresh Meat

Introductions

"Nicholas Fleming?"

"Here!" My response was a tad too loud, signaling that I hadn't been paying attention. Luckily, the other students in the classroom were all too focused on themselves to pay attention to anyone else. Watching the professor tally my name into the attendance, I brought my eyes back down, searching for the syllabus I had printed earlier this morning. The professor continued to shout other names into the abyss as she descended through the list, not actually looking up to connect the names with faces.

The first day of classes had surprisingly gone by briskly. After my first communications class, I tuned in online for the other and managed to actually leave my room once for sustenance from the dining hall. With the rest of the night to myself, I watched a few episodes of a random television drama before passing out on my bed. I didn't do much, but if everyday was fairly similar I wouldn't be one to complain.

"Carter Johnson?"

"Here." A gruff voice piped in from the back. Even with only one word said I could hear his bro-ish tone, which allowed me to assume his jock status. Stealthily turning around in my chair, the backwards cap and basketball shorts confirmed my suspicions.

"Evan Kahviski?"

"Kav-kas-ki." A shorter male from the row in front of me corrected. The response was immediate; he had expected the professor to butcher his name.

"My apologies," the professor gave an apologetic smile. "Isabella Cannova?"

"Present," the girl sitting to my left piped up. With reddish-brown hair dangling past her shoulders and bubbly blue eyes, I was surprised I hadn't noticed her before. Her features, along with the bright red lipstick and constellation-covered dress she wore, were strikingly animated. It was a major contrast from how the rest of the UWH campus had been appearing to me.

After the countless moments of distraction, I finally pulled out my syllabus. The professor finished her attendance duties and began with the lecture.  Grabbing a pencil and highlighter, I was ready to settle in for the next 70 minutes, yet I was embarrassed to find I hadn't actually grabbed what I was looking for. Or, at least not all of it. In front of me laid the syllabus, except a noticeable chunk had somehow been torn out of all of the pages.

"Get hungry on the way to class?"

I turned sideways to find Isabella greeting me with a pleasant smirk.

"Didn't have time for breakfast," I sighed.

"Well, take mine then," she pushed her syllabus across the table.

"Oh, no I'm good."

"It's fine, really," she grinned before taking out another syllabus from her bag. "I brought an extra."

"Thanks?" Bewildered at my own syllabus, I chuckled as I settled back into my seat. I snatched my water bottle from my backpack, popping off the lid before taking a swig.

"And if you don't use it now," she whispered. "You can save it as a snack for later."

It shouldn't have been funny, but for some reason it was enough to make me laugh. And with the water still in my mouth, my laugh came out crooked, sounding somewhere between a villainous snicker and a pathetic choke. Isabella let out the tiniest giggle at my pain while I tried to recover. Unfortunately, my attempts to regain myself were enough to grab the professor's attention.

"Mr. Fleming?" she started, exchanging glances between her clipboard and myself. "Is there an issue?"

"No..." I coughed. "Not at all, Dr. Walsh."

"Good, then you'll be able to inform us where a student can find the university's regulations on plagiarism and unlawful appropriation?"

I sat dumbfounded for a moment before taking a wild guess.