Daring to Dream

Chapter Five

The first lesson went extraordinarily well, with the professor being really kind and sweet, liking interactions with students. She had a knack for making the students enjoy this rather dry subject, and was always ready to repeat a concept ten times over, not like the average maths teacher who yells at you if you ask for a second time. When she knew I was a new kid, Professor Kolton seemed more than ready to answer my doubts and even offered me private lessons in after college hours, which I agreed to.

In the History lesson, the professor seemed more interested in the blackboard itself, taking his time to admire the maps and drawing notes while the entire class exchanged notes and even small fights erupted. Five students even managed to escape to the refreshers, but he only cut them a side eye and continued. He spent half an hour just revising the previous week's work, which was beneficial for me as a beginner, and for the class as enough time to fall asleep.

Physics was, as I suspected, torture on my nerves. The professor seemed to believe we all were know-it-all's, and when we couldn't answer a question, he would begin ridiculing us over our inadequacy, how it was beyond him that we actually got into here, and the standards of education are now falling, and then he would pull, 'when I was your age' card. He, on purpose, would use strange terminologies and difficult words to make his lectures even more complex, and would get mad if one of us dared to ask him what it meant.

Strangely, Professor Mahrtin also had some problems with the class' overall behaviour, and would keep hurling insults and scolding comments at the boys, especially the silver-haired one, who he called what I thought sounded like 'Crosshair'.

*****

We had five lessons a day, two were yet to take place after lunch. I was overjoyed when Emerie told me we had a choice to stay in the surrounding gardens instead of the cafeteria.

"You cannot go inside the classes though," Honora told, chewing on a cake she got from the cafeteria, "don't know why."

I looked to Emerie as if to ask the answer. "You can't expect me to know everything about here!" she looked amused.

I suddenly remembered I left my phone on a table in the café, so we walked inside to be witnesses to a, what I later called, 'word fighting'.

The opponents were some weirdos I didn't know about, and our grade's boys. Insisting to watch it like a little kid, I convinced Honey and Emmy to stay inside, taking the nearest seats to watch it.

"You're not good looking enough to be that dumb," one of the other boys said to the silver haired one, who in turn, flicked a toothpick out of his mouth and said in a bored tone, "I've seen more intelligence in a bag of rocks."

Everyone began hooting, and the older boys, what Emmy called second years, yelled back, "We've had better insults! Are you sure you're in the right competition? This isn't a day-care for amateurs."

As the other cronies began chanting, "Yeah! Tell 'em, Marx!", 'Crosshair' just shrugged. "Is that your strategy? Because it looks like you're aiming for last place." Came his very calm reply. "And just in case you forgot, this is a college, not a day-care. Do you need a map to find your way out of mediocrity?"

As the audience began howling with laughter (honestly I didn't find it that funny, but this seemed to be normal), the older cadets hurled fists and kicks on the first-years, in turn spurring them on to fight back.

It had gotten very interesting at the end, as Crosshair swung his leg such that Marx fell face flat, and his other large friend held him by the neck as he dangled in air. A third year, with a number 5 tattoo on his forehead was cheering with the audience. "Yeah! Show him Wreck!"