Crazy, Sweet

Chapter Two

I’m now beginning to realize that taking the Asian Civilizations class was a pretty bad idea. For one, it only seemed to talk about a few, select Asian cultures, none of which touched on my ethnicity.

Like most people in multicultural North America, I’m a blend of a few different races. My mother is half-Filipino, half-Spanish; my father was half-Brazilian, half-American. They were both immigrants; my mother moved here to work as a nurse and my father came from the city of Salvador to work here in a food-processing factory. Money was tight but we were happy and didn’t think things were going to get worse. But they did. That’s why I obsess with school—good education is going to be my only winning lottery ticket.

“Gummy worms?” Seth asked, handing me a small bag of candy.

“No, thanks,” I murmured, trying to stretch my eyes to keep them open. “This documentary is killing me. I’ve never seen anything this boring.”

“It gets worse and worse each time she shows a documentary in class,” Seth agreed, sliding down more comfortably in his seat. “But hey, isn’t that what this whole class has been like? A documentary since day one.”

We both looked around the vast, dim lecture room and I swear, most people’s eyes were closed. Who wouldn’t be nodding off when you’re running a two-hour documentary on language origins?

“I also don't understand why she has to keep this room at a freezing temperature and turn all the lights off,” I grumbled, eyeing Nancy Han, the small professor who sat in a chair below by the podium, watching the documentary with a rapt expression on her face. “I swear, there are about ten pairs of lovebirds in the back row making out since we started with the origin of Punjabi.”

Seth laughed in very low voice, patting my arm. “We can always move to the back, Ali.”

I elbowed his rib unforgivingly. “Shut up, Seth. You should’ve sneaked your girlfriend in when the class started.”

He stretched his legs and crossed his arms behind his head. “Ah, but she would’ve gone crazy in the first five minutes of the documentary. If it bothers someone as academically inclined as you are, the more it would a girl with an IQ of sixty.”

I glanced at him. “I didn’t know your girlfriend isn’t very bright.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. You call all the girls I date intellectually challenged every chance you get.”

I shrugged. “And apparently, it still hasn’t influenced your standards.”

“Who knows,” he answered mysteriously before cupping a hand over his mouth to muffle his yawn. And yes, yawning is contagious because I immediately yawned after he did. My lids started drooping close again, heavy as if they were made with lead. The narrator’s voice droned on and the chilly air in the room made me shiver.

“Too cold?” Seth asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. I finally dumped the pen and paper I had been holding and wrapped my arms around me, slinking down lower on my seat to warm my back.

He shrugged out of his white jersey jacket which he’d put on over his stained shirt and draped it over my shoulders.

I opened my mouth to protest but it felt so warm and soft against me that I couldn’t’ bring myself to argue.

“Thanks,” I mumbled shyly, avoiding his eyes.

“You’re welcome. Just sit back and relax. This doc will be over before we know it.”

Oh boy, was he right.

When I opened my eyes, it was very, very bright. I squinted against the clinical bright light and tilted my head forward heavily. And the moment I did that, I found myself staring into Dr. Han’s sharp, slanted eyes.