Taylor woke up to a timid knock on the door, followed by a soft fumbling with the door handle. It was Christine, who was trying to balance a large box of jelly donuts and two cups of coffee. She entered, sheepishly, waiting for Taylor's reaction.
"Peace offering?" she said, from behind the donut box.
"What gives?" Taylor asked, more curious than upset.
"I"m so sorry, Taylor! I realized yesterday afternoon it wasn't you, it was that girl, Jessica, I told you she's following Matt and his friend around like a shadow. Turns out I was wrong about which one of them she was after. Sowwy?" she took a comical Tweety bird pose to lighten the mood.
"Exactly how nuts are you? And how can you mistake me for Jessica?"
"What do you mean?" Christine said innocently.
"Well, for one, she's a foot taller," Taylor pointed out.
"I just saw them from a distance," Christine explained.
"She's blond! Like really Nordic!" Taylor pointed at her own skin and hair.
"People make mistakes," Christine looked down. "Friends?" she asked.
"Sure," her friend shrugged off the logical inconsistencies. In light of her recent experiences this was the last thing she wanted to get hung up about.
"What's that smell?" Christine frowned about the acrid smell of the bug spray.
"Oh, God, I'm so late, where is my assignment folder?" Taylor ran in circles around the room, trying to find her homework and textbooks while cleaning up at the same time, since she couldn't tolerate things out of place. She eventually found the folder, showered and got dressed, while Christine waited for her, sampling the coffee and donuts, just to make sure they were fine. They were.
"Have some," she nudged her friend, who took a donut and her coffee to go, planning to eat and drink them on the way to school. When they passed by door number eight in the hallway, Taylor noticed the number was hanging sideways again and instinctively straightened it.
"Are you fixing somebody else's door number?" Christine asked, appalled.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself! That number is a major source of stress for me, I can't understand why nobody cares enough to fix it," Taylor mumbled excitedly with food in her mouth to a puzzled Christine who couldn't understand her problem.
"Freshman year is stressful, I'm going crazy right now with all the assignments too, there is just too much to do..." Christine stopped talking for a second and tried to catch up with Taylor, who was charging ahead. "You know what I was thinking? There is this new yoga class on campus, we could really use something like that, release some of the tension."
Taylor thought, walking very fast to avoid being late for class again, that this wasn't a bad idea at all, going to yoga class with Christine to spend an hour meditating to soothing music and forget about having to maintain a B+ average while keeping her alternate realities straight.
"I'd love to come, I could use a break. What time is it at?" she asked her friend.
"Four," Christine replied.
A little warning light came on in Taylor's head, but she dismissed it thinking that even in the craziness that her life had become, there was not much of a chance for that particular time of day to be meaningful in any way.
"Do I need to bring anything? Mat?" she hesitated.
"No, they've got all we need, just wear comfortable clothing."
The school day was a whirlwind of activity; at the end of it Taylor grabbed a quick bite on the way to the yoga studio and rushed inside, still in the grip of the day's hassle. It took her a few minutes to settle down, and then she started worrying about Christine, who wasn't there yet, though it was almost four.
YOU ARE READING
Door No. 8
FantasyTaylor Bradford is thrilled to have been admitted into a prestigious college, but school and life are not always what they seem. The Wayfinding Systems Introductory class she can't remember enrolling in, but which she just can't escape, redefines th...
