This Side

One

The tips of my fingers run through silky grass, bouncing back and grazing my forearms as I stretch my muscles against the soft ground. Gazing up at a beautiful blue sky, my eyes caress the sight of fluffy, cotton-like clouds bouncing through the air, tickling my nose. Off in the distance is a beautiful, warm sun, smiling down at me, almost calling my name.

"Gillian." Wait, it is calling my name.

"Gillian. Wake up!" The sky turns dark, the smile of the sun tipping and turning into an anger-filled glare, its beams of now-darkness reaching out to grab me, shaking me harder and harder.

I start to fall into the darkness, the soft grass fading from my touch as I become enveloped in a pit of black, winds ripping the beautiful sight away from my vision as I slip deeper and deeper into... into... where am I?

My eyes suddenly flutter open, revealing to me that while I had been stuck deep in slumber, I had overslept.

On my first day. How lucky.

"Finally. Now get downstairs fast; you missed your alarm," Andrew snaps angrily at me, then turns to exit my room.

I bounce out of my bed, almost slamming my head into my ceiling fan, and run into my bathroom to brush through my matted hair like always. I longingly glance at my toothbrush, but alas, this morning basic hygiene might have to wait. After working through the near-impossible tangles in my hair, I manage to tie it up quickly in a rushed ponytail, then shuffle through my closet for a manageable outfit to wear today.

Shit. I almost forgot. Uniforms.

If I had a choice, I would know better than to attend a college with uniforms. After all, what's the fun about wearing the same thing every single day? But this wasn't up to me. Attending a prestigious, fancy private school was the absolute last thing I had in mind this past summer. Sadly, recently, a lot of things haven't been up to me. If only they were.

I flip through white shirt after white shirt until I find a polo with an embroidered "Yearwood Academy" in the top right corner. I sigh, defeated, and slip it over my head, smoothing out a pleated skirt beneath my hands. This will have to do.

Running down the stairs, I feel a pity-filled pang of hunger growl inside my stomach, but ignore it. This morning I'll have to miss eating as well, I guess. I grab my keys and slip my feet into two chestnut-mini UGG boots by several move-in boxes and throw my bag over my shoulder before I feel a cold, hard hand graze my back.

"You better not fuck this up again," I hear a gravelly voice whisper into my ear, words slurring. Give it to Andrew to be drunk at 7am on a school morning. I whip around, turning to face him, and my face settles into a grim line.

"I should be giving you that same advice," I spit, and before he can react, I swipe his fingers off of my shirt and slam the door behind me. Today is going to be just amazing.

I rush down the stairs of 3 different floors before finally making it down to the parking lot of my dorm complex. It takes me several tries before I'm finally able to shove my keys into the ignition of my Honda Civic and twist them, allowing me to finally hear a comforting rumble of the engine. I sigh loudly and shove the gear shift into reverse.

Andrew has been my roommate for 3 years now, and because of him, I've had to switch campuses 3 times. To some, he could be described as angry, but I like to say mental just because of the mere amount of fights he gets into at school. He always ends up sleeping with somebody's girlfriend drunk and then threatening her boyfriend until somebody reports him to a counselor and he gets booted from college. Just like that. Countless mistakes, and I still can't leave him. Don't get me wrong; I would if I could. But after many... financial issues with my parents-or should I say parent,- that doesn't seem very possible.

I connect my phone to the aux cord in my car and hit shuffle on my playlist. Immediately, Taylor Swift's "Out of the Woods" comes on the speaker, and I exhale, feeling a little bit better. 15 minutes go by, and suddenly, I'm standing in the parking lot of what just might be my downfall. My bag, hanging off of one shoulder only, bangs into my right thigh with every step I take, throwing off my walking speed. Maybe taking so many classes with heavy textbooks wasn't such a good idea. I quickly regain my balance and make it to the front door, preparing for the world of hurt that lies behind it.

I almost can't believe what I'm seeing as students upon students completely fill the dense hallways, each stuck deep in their own conversation. I spy a couple talking over coffee in the library, laughing at a joke I can't hear, and a pang of jealousy stings my heart. I quickly push that emotion away and glance down at my phone, a reminder reading out the room number of my first class of the day and the year.

I keep my eyes on my phone, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with anyone in the hallway, but that proves no help after I bump lightly into student after student, each exchanging apologies and then rushing to their first class as well. I smile maybe twice and then continue, not having the time or effort within me to mutter a simple "sorry" to any of them.

However, my weather app deems to be too much of a distraction when a foot suddenly appears in front of mine, giving me no time to react as the ground appears closer and closer to my face. I close my eyes and prepare for impact as the air is knocked out of my lungs and my ribs take the force of my fall. I turn up and around to see a skinny blonde guy in a baggy t-shirt looking down at me, clearly shocked at the accident he's just committed. I hear him struggle to mutter anything other than a few "I'm so sorry"'s and "do you need help?"'s but I can't seem to care. Two textbooks have been thrown across the ground within this time, and as I struggle to grab them and sit up at the same time, he's still there. What the fuck?

"Watch where you're going, fucker," I snap at him, and that seems  to get him going. He flinches, a little bit hurt by my words, but I ignore it and turn away from him, watching in my peripheral vision as he strides away. Does nobody have any idea how to avoid bumping into other people anymore?

The hallways are suddenly clear, and I look back down at my phone, and realize I'm already 5 minutes late. What a bummer. I scramble down the hallways and find a room with the number 405 plastered on the door and enter, interrupting the introduction of an angry-looking professor. Just great. I find a seat next to a jock who appears to be somewhat of a football player, letting him evaluate me for half a second, and then turning his attention back to his computer as if he couldn't have a care in the world for my existence. As I turn to look at him, I realize he's actually kind of... hot. In a way. He has short, brown hair that just touches the tops of his bushy eyebrows that hold a color so appealing I can't really look away. His jaw is sculpted with a small, almost unnoticeable scar resting directly underneath his left ear. And his arms... oh God, his arms are just perfect.

"I see you staring," he mutters, and I realize I haven't been as slick as I imagined. I turn around quickly, colors of embarrassment blossoming on my cheeks, and focus my attention finally on the professor at the front of the hall who clearly doesn't care about the lecture he's giving. However, I can't pull the gaze from the side of my vision off of this mystery man.

More time passes, and already my first class is over. Reluctantly, I get up and slip my laptop back into my heavy bag, slinging it back over my shoulder before making my way towards the all-too-familiar door marker 405. But, right before I open it, a veiny hand grasps the handle and a large, 6'3" body shoves its way past me without so much as a glance in my direction. I sigh, mentally exhausted. What a jerk. If today has already started like this, how is the rest of my year- maybe even less- going to go?

Yearwood Academy is going to be just wonderful.