𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

VII

Sleep had me within it's gentle grasp, rocking me like ocean waves in the fuzzy darkness behind my eyelids. A sudden shove jolted me, and my eyes popped open, the harsh light from the classroom greeting me coldly. I turned to meet the eyes of one of my classmates, Peter McBride, who was nodding towards the door.

"Class is over. Thought you should know," he said shortly. Peter was a lanky, red haired lad with a peppering of freckles along his face, neck, and arms. Both law students, we considered each other allies and often sat by each other during classes.

"Shit," I cursed, raking a hand through my disheveled hair. "What did I miss?" I glanced warily down at the professor in the front, who was currently clearing off the chalkboard.

Peter gathered his books and shoved them lopsidedly into his backpack. "Pretty much everything," he told me with a sympathetic grin. "You were like a zombie this morning. As soon as you sat down you were out."

"Really?" I shook my head, throwing my bag over my shoulder and falling into a steady stride beside Peter. "At this rate I might as well just drop out."

He gave me a sideways glance. "I wouldn't blame you, Thea."

"Thanks."

"Some of us actually want to be lawyers," Peter teased, nudging his shoulder against mine. "So I'm gonna keep pulling through."

"Some of us aren't being forced into it."

"Right. You know what? You should just drop everything and move to another country. Somewhere far away," the boy mused as we walked out the front doors, into the pale sunshine. "You can claim a new identity. Join a circus, maybe. Whatever floats your boat."

"Where would I go?" I asked with a chuckle, colorful leaves crunching beneath our shoes as we strode across campus. For a moment, I actually considered the idea. It wouldn't be bad to have a fresh start.

Peter pondered this for a moment, the red hues of his hair blending in perfectly with the autumn leaves scattering around us. "America, maybe."

"America?"

"Uh huh."

"What does America have for me?"

"Well, it's on a different continent, for one."

"Sold."

A brief, sparkly laugh floated between us. Conversing was very easy with Peter, which was why I liked him. There wasn't much we had in common, but our friendship was light so it didn't matter. I'd never even seen him outside campus.

We finally reached our separate paths, and Peter put a soft hand quickly on my arm. "I'll see you tomorrow," he told me, before hurrying off in the direction opposite mine. I waved in goodbye.

On days where the weather was bearable, I took the short walk on foot back to my flat. On days like these, I liked it especially. Admiring the deepening colors of autumn, the air that smelled like leftover rain, the clumps of people hurrying down the sidewalk with their coats pulled tightly around them. Walking was where I felt most at peace. I could really clear my head with fresh air combined with the feeling of my feet against sidewalk.

I couldn't get Peter's words out of my head, however. I wouldn't want to move to another country, but it was nice to know that at least I had Peter's support in quitting school. Josy's as well, I figured. She had been pushing me to go against my parents' wishes since we met. If I had my way, I would quit. I would forget about college all together and seek an occupation elsewhere. I'd find a small, local job while I figured out my true passion along the way. The truth was, I hadn't considered what I really wanted to do for a living. Growing up I'd always heard the same thing. You're going to grow up, go to school, become a lawyer or a doctor and start a family. I had heard it so much that I had began to think it was my idea. Only recently had I realized it wasn't.