Hear Me

Chapter One

The weather man entertained himself about the rain as Sophie fought her books into their bag with one hand, toast shoed between her lips, and the other hand swiping her bangs out of her eyes. She hated her eyes. They were a faded aquamarine green that had yellow circling the iris. Why couldn’t they be a vibrant green? Or something like an avocado? No. Scratch that. Nobody wants avocado eyes…at least Sophie didn’t.

“Hey batgirl, need help?”

Those eyes met her brother’s chocolate yellows. She shook her head, winning against the bag and chewing the last bit of toast. 7:45am. She had class at 8:40. She stood, about to sling her bag over her shoulder and leave when she saw his eyes. He had been crying. She grabbed her notebook and began writing.

(Want to talk about it?)

“Naw…just silly big brother problems.”

(Sam.)

She gave him a look as he read the notebook. He smiled sadly.

“I just met this guy and…he was perfect. Oh, so perfect. We didn’t work out. He learned that I used to be Samantha, not Samuel. Couldn’t take the thought….it happens, PhiPhi. Don’t you have class?”

(Soon…getting ready to take off. You okay?)

“I’m fine. But you? It’s your first day.)

(I survived high school, paranoid schizophrenic and pyromaniac by my side the entire time. And I should call him….but I can do this, Sam.)

She gave him a grin and two thumbs up. He pulled her into a hug.

“You’ve always been optimistic…”

She hugged him back, the smell of spearmint and coffee hitting her. It was a unique scent but it was his and she loved it because it signified home. It was her Sammy. Taught her how to wear lipstick and play defense in soccer.

“Love you, PhiPhi…”

(I love you too, Sammy.)

She smiled at him and hugged him again before going out into the world. It was Sophie’s first day as a number, not a teenager. She saw it as numbers whether it meant being on social security or having insurance. You were a number and that’s how small she really felt.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

She shook her head as a boy with a Southern accent sat next to her.

“I’m Patrick.”

She scribbled on her empty page, (Sophie.)

“Sore throat? Cat got your tongue? Shy?”

(Try mute.)

“Ah…must be interesting. Where you from, Sophie?” Patrick asked

(Moved here from the East. Virginia, bitches. You?)

He laughed.

“I’m from Tennessee. Grew up in Nashville.” He replied

(You must really like country music.)

“I hate it.” He smiled

She smiled too. A book slammed on the desk, making them turn their attention towards the teacher. He had ash hair and light blue eyes. Had to be in his mid-twenties, had to be. But as most girls were swooning over him, she ignored his looks. He had a scar on his cheek and a few burn marks on his hands. He had a story to tell.

“Welcome to intro to college literature. I’m Professor Kirkland, I’ll be teaching you guys how to get an A in Professor Lypitski’s class. Open your books to chapter 1, page 4, and we’ll get started.” He said as he slid onto his desk.