Living in the Shadows

2) Penny Lane

In Penny lane there is a barber showing photographs

Of every head he's had the pleasure to have known

And all the people that come and go

Stop and say Hello

Liza pulled into the campus parking lot. And even though it was still early in the morning, the concrete jungle was buzzing with activity. She stepped out of her car and took a breath in, telling herself that no one knew about the bruises hidden under her shirt. The all to familiar chatter reached her ears. It was all nonsense. Where people we going to go for lunch. Who had the worst professor. Who failed last semester. Nothing every important passed through these people's lips and it annoyed Liza to no end. She popped open her trunk, pulling out the one thing in the world that was truly hers. Some people stared at the shinny, black case, probably wondering why it belonged to her. The name Eleanor West was carved into it's base. The gold letters standing out like snow on an evergreen.

Eleanor West was the woman who abandoned her family for fame and never looked back. Liza didn't know why she never bought a new case. Maybe there was a little pride when people stared at her mother's old guitar case.

Liza's guitar case.

She took it everywhere with her, but now she had an excuse.

There was a cafe on the corner of 6th and Main. Today they were having open auditions, looking for a new band. Liza's best, and only, friend Rebecca thought it would be fun to audition. Liza was ok with that. Rebecca would be the focus of their attention. Not Liza. She could just morph into the shadows like she usually did.

Crowds stood in little huddles, dotting the empty space. A few of the groups had guitars and drums, while others stood with open books and rulers. Even at 9 o'clock, one group sat around boxed wine. Liza smiled, the action painfully pulling at her bruise.

Maybe, she thought. Maybe I'll be able to survive this.

She made her way to the short building on the outskirts of the university, left of the parking lot. Her backpack fit nicely into her back and the rhythmic bumping of her guitar case against her leg made her feel normal. She felt like a college student.
______________________________
Professor Susan Wesley was said to be one of the toughest professors at the university. While she did not assign homework or text book material, she had constant pop-quizzes and her tests were near impossible to pass. That's why Liza specifically asked to be in her class. When asked what her major was going to be, Liza answered without a thought. European Literature. She felt connected to the stories. She thought that maybe in another life she could've been a writer, but her father's oppression made that impossible. She would always have to succumb to him.

Professor Wesley entered the room, pulling Liza from her thoughts. Her desk sat in the middle of the room. Only 100 or so students surrounded her, some faces showed fear, other faces showed smirks. Both faces were the wrong ones to plaster.

She circled the room, looking at each one of them.

"Question," she called out, looking at no on in particular. "Why are you here?" She sounded bored. One girl in the classroom with auburn hair and glasses slowly raised her hand.

"I wasn't asking you girl," Professor Wesley remarked coldly.

She's playing a game Liza thought to herself. She watched as the professor's eyes crossed over each one of her students before finally meeting Liza's.

"You." She pointed a long finger at Liza, who held back the urge to run.

Speak with confidence she noted to herself before making a sound.

She obviously is waiting for the obvious answer. The question is: do I want to give it to her?

"Because I have nothing else better to spend my time on," Liza replied shortly. She soon was on the receiving end of a few surprised looks, including one from Professor Wesley. The professor started to chuckle to herself.

"Auburn chick," she said turning around. "What were you going to answer?"

The girl suddenly looked surprised, as if she forgot what to say.

"T-to learn." She finally stammered out after a few uncomfortable seconds. Professor Wesley nodded her head and continued to walk around the room. She reminded Liza of a weed for some reason. Killing off the little things before working her way to the bigger ones.

"By the end of the year, this class will be down to 30 students. Either some of y'all will change majors, change professors, or drop out. And honestly, that doesn't bother me as long as I get a paycheck," she said, taking her seat at her desk. "Here's the thing. I work fast. I am efficient. If you do not belong here, I will not be afraid to say so." She motion for the auburn haired girl to come to her.

"Now, tell us your name."

"An-Angelina Rachel," she stuttered out nervously.

"Miss Rachel," Professor Wesley started. "You gave the answer I was expecting. The thing is, we all learn something every day. So you are wrong we are not here to learn." She stated this like it was a matter-of- fact, and revealed a stack of papers from her under her desk. Angelina started to pass the out on command.

"Pop Quiz," Professor Wesley sang cheerily. Liza turned over her paper only to see questions about authors and publication dates. She already knew a few, remembering a time when her mother used to read her Jane Austin and Victor Hugo. Other questions included books in French or German that Liza has no idea on how to answer, so she put down a question mark, showing that she was clueless.

She smiled to herself again, the act hurting more than before, causing her to wince. She looked around her, hoping that no one noticed.

On the other side of the room a man continued to look at her. He saw her wince. He saw her look around. He saw as she calmed down, settling back into her seat, working on her quiz once more.

He knew why she winced. The memory of Robert's fist colliding with Liza's faced played behind his eyes. Her cries echoed in his head. But he had long since lost the meaning of what it meant to be a hero. She was the one girl he could never save. She was the one girl who had the power to break him. And he could not let that happen.

Not yet...

"Someday Liza," he muttered under his breath once again. "Someday I'll get the guts to get you out of that house. But today is not that day."

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes

There beneath the blue suburban skies...