Growing Up

1.0

     Baren trees lined the snow-covered pathways of the campus on a chilly, mid-January afternoon in up-state New York. The courtyard was completely deserted; partially due to the fact that sitting out there during your free periods is practically begging for hypothermia. Students who weren't dying of boredom in a classroom where gossiping in the library or smoking pot down in the boiler room with the janitor. Because it is such a "low-key exclusive liberal arts college", tuition was higher than most of the students attending.

     That being said, the classes are just about as engaging as watching paint dry. Paint could perhaps be a metaphor for all the hard work you did in high school to be able to earn your scholarship or be neck-deep in student loans slowly drying and aging before your eyes. But who was she kidding- it's not like any of her other options had accepted her anyway. Aspen Millar- 18 year old novelist-to-be, spent her classes staring out of large glass windows of the classrooms, dreaming of how different her life would be if she had gotten into that Irish university, or NYU, or even any other party universities down in Florida. Maybe her hair would be a few shades lighter- or purple even. Maybe her skin would be a good 3 foundation skins darker. Maybe she'd wear something other than grey. 

     It was too late for "maybes" now, and she slowly turned her head away from the window and began to focus on the words coming from her teacher's mouth. White noise was all she could hear, but after focussing on Mrs. Levenstein's lips, she was able to make out the word "poem". The cogs started turning again, and Aspen reached into her worn, faux leather messenger bag and searched for her assignment. The theme had been happiness, and it had taken her a full 3 hours of uninterrupted thought to come up with the right words. She placed it flat down on her table and anxiously waited for the readings to start. She looked around the room at all of her classmates, half of them scribbling furiously onto note paper, the other half looking down at their papers as if trying to memorize it in the 30 seconds it was taking Mrs. Levenstein to get her papers together. Aspen sat directly in front of her desk, the front-left seat right by the window. When she turned to her right to observe her other classmates as they waited, her eyes locked with one particular person two rows down, three chairs back. 

     Auden (thats all he went by), was that smart, hot, and deep guy you always imagined would be in your english class once you left high school; a guy who actually had a passion for it and cared. His chestnut, shaggy hair was the perfect length- not too short but not too long-, and his hazel eyes were framed by long lashes. His face looked like it had been hand-scoulpted by God himself, and so did his abs. Today he was wearing a maroon sweater and black jeans, and he was wearing his glasses that no one was quite sure he actually needed since they always made an occasional appearance, but he never wore contacts. Today, from behind those glasses, his eyes were staring directly into Aspen's large, green ones. Like his, they were also framed by long, dark lashes. She had light freckles across her cheeks, and her wavy, chocolate hair hung down by her hips. She was wearing her black thigh-high socks, burgundy boots, a matching burgundy sweater, and a black Japanese school boy hat. She could feel him smirk at her as she blushed and turned away.  Damn, could she be anymore cliché?

     A few people went up before she was called. Hesitantly, she got up from her desk and walked up to the front of the class. At only 4'11, the majority of the furniture around her was taller and she also looked and sounded about 12 years old, which is why she was more likely to leave her cellphone at home than her ID. But, she swallowed the feelings of being so small and insignificant down and began to recite her poem. 

"Theres always a calm before the storm.

Before they experience life,

babies laugh with all the genuine happiness in the world. 

The older you get, the more