From August to Mae | an August Alsina Fanfic

I. A.M. Animosity

Whitley in MM

     Whitley Mae Gilbert breezed through campus on her way to her much dreaded eight o' clock class. The halls and stairways were crowded with flirtatious men and women alike with no concern for a higher level education. It was evident to Whitley that they were only there to fall in love, or if that was a reach, hook up. Her white air forces squeaked against the freshly buffed stairs as she lightly skipped her way to the third floor. She made it to the top and tugged on the heavy, deep brown wooden doors before her, and entered the nearly silent hallway. Room 303 was her destination and was only a mere four footsteps from the doors she had just entered through. She peeked her head inside the room taking note of its emptiness and slipped her way inside.

It was only 7:42 according to Whitley's cracked iPhone 8, but she didn't mind being early. She liked the freedom of being able to sit where she wanted without all eyes on her as she searched for an empty seat, or having to brush past people as they picked at her confidence and insecurities with their eyes. She liked the advantage of having familiarity with her surroundings because it gave her more confidence in herself and her position in the class, or at the school as a whole. She tried her hardest to set herself apart from all the other freshman, because she was very much different from them and would hate to be thrown into the same box as them by upperclassmen.

Although her name was Whitley Gilbert, she was far from the A Different World sitcom character. She didn't have a great sense of fashion, nor did she have men drooling over her looks. Perhaps the name Denise Huxtable would've been more fitting. She was laidback, logical, meticulous, and unconcerned with materialistic things. Most of all, she was unconcerned with finding her Dwayne Wayne or making so called "friends" that would jump at the chance to sell her out for the attention of upperclassman, or potential lovers.

She removed the drawstring bag she had received at orientation from her back. She knew it was only a matter of time before it would fall apart, but she wanted to at least get some use out of it. It was a nice bag. She felt her hand around on the inside to reach for a pen and pulled out a notebook and agenda before closing the bag and hanging it on the back of the seat. She clicked the pen against the table, flipped open her agenda, and stared at the blank pages. Whitley had reached the point in her life where she felt she had to be busy every waking moment in order to feel productive. She hated having free time because she felt that meant her life wasn't going anywhere. That the train was stuck at the station because there were no tracks for it to run on.

Tapping the pen against the edge of her lip and tucking her feet behind the legs of the chair, Whitley began thinking of things she could do to keep herself productive on campus. The Student Activities Board, the Collegiate Women of Color organization, or even a modest job at the receptionist desk in the student center. The light jingle of the zippers on someone's bookbag interrupted her thoughts. A tall, slender boy of light brown complexion began making his way to the back of the room. Whitley was never one to stare, especially not at men, but she did observe that he wore dark shades and appeared to be an upperclassmen. He passed Whitley's row and the overwhelming scent of marijuana lingered in the air around her intruding into her bubble of Love Spell by Victoria's Secret. Whitley turned up her nose and rolled her eyes in disgust.

"It's the first day of class, 8 in the morning at that. and you're already coming to class high. Way to make a first impression," she thought.

Shortly after, more students began to trickle in, most arriving at 8:00 a.m. on the dot, and all trying to find a seat furthest from the front of the classroom. Whitley observed her view of the class from her seat. Analyzing whether or not she liked it enough to make it her permanent seat for the semester. She was close enough to the front to see the writing on the board, close enough to the back to go unnoticed by her professor and peers, and close enough to the door to make a hasty exit as soon as the clock hit 9:15.  Perfect.