Project 1940S

Chapter 2

"Do you think these are organic?" Clementine asked, holding up one of the schools hard boiled eggs to the light, as though detecting something wrong with it. 

"I doubt it." I said, the faintest of smiles on my face. 

"We need to go shopping." Clementine huffed, putting the egg back down in the container, sliding it back into the refrigerator. We had come downstairs for breakfast, both of us dressed and ready for the day. 

"Let's do it after school." I responded while she continued to search the cafeteria for something to eat. I sighed as I grabbed some scrambled eggs and sausage links. "Clem, you should just eat something. You'll get light headed if you go all day without eating something, especially since you threw your dinner out last night." 

Clementine huffed about it, but got the boiled eggs and a water. 

We talked about the classes we had that day, before we parted our separate ways and I finally separated from her for the first time since stepping foot on the campus. 

The campus was huge and I immediately regretted not arriving a few days earlier in order to figure out where my classes were. My first class was British Literature with Mr. Wilson, and I barely made it before the bell rang, crossing the threshold, having the door be closed behind me. I quickly took a seat near the front, pulling out a notebook and blue pen. 

Mr. Wilson was a five foot ten, black man, probably around thirty-eight or so. He had a clean beard and a great smile. I immediately fell in love with his energy as he spoke to the class and called attendance. 

"Elizabeth Silvertongue?" Mr. Wilson asked, looking around the classroom.

"Present." I responded quickly, cheeks turning a little pink. He continued with roll call and I took the time to glance around the classroom. 

It was not at all what I had expected of a college classroom, for the posters looked more like what I would've expected to see in a high school. Inspirational posters, posters with book quotes, posters with authors and quotes, that sort of thing. In the back of the room was another poster that showed the alphabet in cursive. 

I noticed many of the students were on phones, some having air pods or earbuds in, giving Professor Wilson perhaps thirty percent of their attention. I turned back around, deciding to pay them no mind. 

He started the lesson off after a gentle reminder to pay attention, which many of the students did not listen to. I diligently took my notes up until the time the bell rang, writing down that I would need a copy of Animal Farm for the first month of class. 

I was both disappointed and also excited. Disappointed because I had already read and reviewed Animal Farm for ninth grade, but also excited because I loved the book and couldn't wait to share my ideas with the class. Despite my degree being in accounting, I had always wanted to be a writer. 

"Have a wonderful day Elizabeth." Professor Wilson said as I packed my things up, being one of the last people to leave the classroom. 

"You too Professor Wilson." I said politely. 

"Call me Sam." Professor Wilson said, waving a hand. "No need to be so formal." 

"Oh. Of course." I said, taken back, heading out the door. No need to be so formal? It wasn't formal, it was just polite. . . wasn't it? 

My next class wasn't for another two hours, so I headed off, locating the school library which had a starbucks, panara, and some sort of chinese restaurant inside of it. I found the literary section with no problem- some things are constant no matter what I suppose- and found several copies of Animal Farm. I wished I had thought to bring my own copy, but I had thought we would be doing harder, newer books.