Beecon University

Chapter 8

Blake sighed as she exited the mathematics building. Why her philosophy lecture was hosted in the math building was beyond her, but she tried to ignore the ridiculous ways that the classroom selection for Beacon University worked.

It had been about two weeks since the lunch with Qrow, and Blake was a bit stunned at just how good life was. She spent at least one or more meals a day with Yang, and often hung out with Yang and their neighbors for study sessions. She'd hung out with Sun a few times outside of class too. He seemed pretty cool, in Blake's opinion. He'd moved up to BU from down South, way out of state. He hadn't really fully explained why, since they'd mostly just been talking about their foster care experiences. It was very interesting to Blake, to see the differences between the systems they had experienced.

Aside from her social life, things were going great in Blake's academic life. She enjoyed almost all of her classes, except for philosophy, but it was an easy intro class, so she knew she'd get through it. Cinder, the problem girl from her creative writing class, had calmed down significantly since that first day of class. She'd even apologized to Sun and Blake, and talked to both of them a few times in class since.

Blake couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride. She'd been through so much in the last few years, in her entire life, and for once, things were, well, stable. She had friends, a schedule, people looking out for her, and felt comfortable with herself for the first time since... ever.

She'd done it. She still had a long way to go with life, but damn, life was good .

Yang's efforts to increase Blake's friendship circle had been working. While Blake still felt like the numbers were really low for a girl her age (which Yang would absolutely agree to), she had acquired about fifteen Facebook friends since creating the account. It consisted of Yang, their neighbors, Sun, some other people from classes, and her last foster host. That was fourteen more friends than she could ever remember having, and well, she wasn't entirely sure that she would have ever considered him to be a friend.

Blake's thoughts were interrupted by a blast of wind. She reached up, hanging onto the hair bow Yang had given her. She now wore it almost every day, even when nature seemed to be against it.

Wind was nothing new for Blake, even though it was only mid-September. She had been told during orientation that Beacon University had been designed by an architect who usually designed schools in the South, where temperatures hit over the 100F mark regularly during the warmer months, so wind tunnels were a necessity. Unfortunately, Beacon University was a school in the Northeast, where it regularly dropped below 0F in the winter. Even though it had been four months ago when Blake learned that fact, Yang reminded her about it on the daily. Yang really hated what the wind did to her hair. Not a single day went past without Blake getting a ranting complaint about the wind messing up Yang's hair.

Blake clung tight to the bow as she pushed her way through the bout of wind. She had almost made it to her destination: the student union. She'd promised Yang she'd come hang out at the Queer Center after classes today, instead of holing up somewhere in the library or back in their dorm. Yang had seemed pretty convinced to get Blake to socialize, although Yang had been doing a pretty good job about letting Blake take it slowly, and at her own pace.

Blake hadn't been to the Queer Center since the open house. She had to admit, she was still pretty embarrassed about the whole ordeal, how she had run out like that. Yang had convinced her that no one would remember that, since open house was a pretty hectic day. Blake just really hoped that Yang was right about that one.

She finally arrived at the student union, her bow nearly completely undone from the wind. She tugged at it, releasing it, and held it in her hand as she approached the elevator. She pressed the button, and readjusted her bow, using the metal doors of the elevator as a mirror.