Plain Jermain

Placing my stuff next to the only girl I know on campus, I give a small nod to the woman standing at the front of the classroom and finally absorb everything. After weeks of unpacking, saying goodbye to family and sorting out everything from bills to accommodation to my belongings, I'm finally here. Here, ready to learn, ready to start a new page of my life.

"Hey," I say to the girl next to me. Nadia, she's called. Nadia and I are on the same course, sharing our kitchen back in the accommodation. Most of the others are taking English with Creative Writing, or Media and English or something. We kind of didn't fit anywhere else, so we're in with some Media and English students. We both do Creative Writing and Film Studies though. And today is the very first Creative Writing lesson, the first time in months that I've sat in a classroom.

"Hey," Nadia says, smiling at me. I've noticed that she smiles more than most people, trying to create light about the whole situation. It's so stupid denying that we're all nervous, all panicking about starting a course that we think we know, all worrying about judgement and bullying and such. Nadia doesn't show her nerves though; she sits at the front, back arched, head held high, arms resting on her notebook.

Man, I wish I had that confidence.

"How are you?" I ask. Sitting down next to her, I slide my bag under the desk and reorganise the mess I've created on the table. Notebook, pencil case, drink, glasses. Yep, I haven't forgotten anything on the first day. On the second day, I bet I'll leave something in my room, but it's not the end of the world.

"Great," she replies, using her nails to scrape her fringe from her eyes. "I'm not used to being up this early, but now that I'm in the room, I'm ready to give it a shot." She opens her notebook to reveal doodles of different animals, all wide eyed and cute. "You?"

"Nervous," I say. It's true. I'm so worried that someone is going to judge me for being me. What if someone asks me a stupid question and I give them an even stupider answer? Things like that always worry me, and always have done since I was a child. How do you deal with confrontation if you don't know what to say? It's an actual fear of mine.

As people walk in, I can see the bags forming under their eyes where they've been forced out of bed by piercing alarms after days of getting used to parties, nightlife. People glare at the two of us at the front; I frown. If I've given them a reason to glare, I'd rather they tell me - in the nicest way possible. Why are people so rude?

"Good morning," the woman at the front of the room says, holding the papers in her hands. "My name is Mrs Ash, and I'm going to be your professor." She begins handing out the papers in her hand, scanning each and every one of us as she drifts past us.

"The first exercise doesn't involve me. It involves you. I'm sure you remember this kind of activity from when you were in Primary School, all that time ago." Thinking back to primary school, I can't help but think about how diverse people were back then. Back in the days where kids didn't worry about the appearance of one another.

I miss those days. A lot.

"I've taken the name of every student in this room today - I don't think there's anyone missing, is there?" People look around, trying to spot a missing figure in the crowd of similar looking people. "They've been entered into the computer, into a random pairing generator I found on the internet. Thankfully, there are an even number of you. Let's get started then!"

She clicks the button, watching the names whizz around. We all do. Two white wheels circling in different directions, causing anxiety to arise in our throats as we realise that the chances of us being paired with someone we know are pretty slim.

The wheel begins to slow, showing actual names instead of a faint blur of black. Once they finally halt, the names Clara and Michael are displayed on the board. Clara stands up from the right of the room, mostly hidden by a ridiculous amount of blonde hair. Michael remains in his seat; he waves from his slouched position.