Five Steps | Chaelisa

Chapter 8

Roseanne's POV

A biology class at 8:30 a.m. on a Monday would not have been my first pick, but when Suzy posted her class schedule on Facebook last month, it was the only one I could find with open seats left. So, I guess I'm interested in living organisms now.

I take a deep breath and adjust my hair over each of my shoulders before pulling the heavy door open and heading into the lecture hall.

I scan the rows. There are a few quiet-looking kids sitting alone in the front, groups of friends talking about their summers in the middle, and a crew of Pitt athletes in the back of the room with their legs hanging over the tiered tables.

There's not a single person who doesn't look bleary-eyed from a presemester party. It's a look I recognize all too well from after prom weekend and ski club Sundays.

But for the first time, I actually understand how they feel.

I'm exhausted too. I feel a pang thinking of the short story class I gave up for this. But despite biology being mostly a premed weed-out class at Pitt, it also covers one of my science gen eds. It's saving me a science class on my schedule in a future semester. So I'm not just here for Suzy, I tell myself yet again.

I make my way into the room and finally catch sight of her brown pixie hair. She's talking to Abby and wearing a smile that warms me all the way down to my bones. I think she's the only person in here smiling.

I grab on to the straps of my backpack and walk up to the third row, where she's sitting a few chairs in. Abby is now tapping away on her phone, and I take half a step closer until I could wrap my hands around the back of the empty swivel chair beside Suzy if I wanted to. We hung out last night. Sitting together is totally normal.

"Anyone sitting here?" I ask from behind, trying to sound... I don't know... flirty or something? But it comes out as basically a stage whisper. Between that and the jocks goofing around in the back, she doesn't hear me. I look over my shoulder at the girl sitting in the next row back as she flips her fiery-red mane of hair and throws me a glare like, Just fucking sit down or move.

I clear my throat, about to ask her again, but simultaneously, Abby says, "Suzy, look at this!" And Suzy turns her chair away as Abby holds up her phone to show her something on Instagram. I turn the other way and hesitate, meeting eyes with the salty redhead, then ultimately decide to just slip out into the aisle and find a seat in the back before either of them can notice me just standing there.

Great job, Roseanne. Way to follow through.

I release my death grip on the straps and let my backpack slip onto the floor as I plunk down into my seat, trying my best to brush it off and instead focus on class. I pull out my binder and mechanical pencils, getting everything set up in front of me.

Everything is so fresh and new and ready.

It's exactly the way I like it to be, but still, I can't shake the uneasy feeling in my stomach every time my eyes flick down to Suzy and the empty seat that could have been mine.

Just as the professor is adjusting the microphone on the podium to his height, the door swings open, and in walks none other than Lisa Manoban. Late. No backpack. Just a book tucked under her arm and a half-eaten 7-Eleven sandwich in her hand.

I duck my head and pretend I'm really interested in the syllabus clipped into my binder, praying she doesn't see me. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she stops to say hi to Suzy and Abby, who actually see and hear her, of course, but then she skips right up the steps and squeezes behind five people to plop down in the empty chair... right next to me.