Brynn Winters

Tapping

    With my eyes closed, I tap my fingertips against the desk of my English lit class, anxious to be freed of this room and the rest of this university for winter break. I start humming to myself as I tap, then pause for a moment when I realize that I had been subconsciously moving my fingers through the motions of Elton John's “Your Song” as if I were playing the piano. I laugh to myself because this happens far more often than care to admit. My mother always said I was a natural-born musician, especially on the piano. Once upon a time she had drams of me making a career out of my talents, but when I bombed my Juliard audition, I decided I needed to step away from music and focus on a more realistic career, so here I am, in English Lit, playing an imaginary piano.

    I smile to myself before glancing towards the clock above the door, fifteen minutes left. I had completed my exam over twenty minutes ago, but Professor “Pain-In-The-Ass” Ashton is the one teacher at this university that is forcing the entire class to stay for the full two hours allotted for this exam. So Instead of sitting at my keyboard at home playing an actual song, or relaxing on the sofa reading a good romance novel, I am here, twiddling my thumbs and bouncing my crossed leg, wishing time would pass more quickly.

This is the last exam I have to conquer before I can begin winter break for my freshman year of college. I am so ready to get out of this room, go to my apartment, and have some much needed down time before I am trapped in a mountain cabin with my family for two weeks. Don’t get me wrong, Gavin and Lauren Winters, also known as my parents, are probably the best parents in the world. Seriously, I couldn’t have asked for two better people to raise me, but sometimes I wish they weren’t quite so amazing, so I didn’t always feel so inferior.

I glance around the room, noting the time again, ten minutes left. Only a handful of students are still working on their tests. A few people are sleeping, I giggle when Parker lets out a loud snore and wakes himself up, leaving a small pool of drool on the desk. A few other classmates hear and laughed too, causing Professor Ashton to shoot us a warning glance, even thhough I could tell she is fighting a smile herself.

Reaching out, I slide my exam packet back towards me and begin checking it for a third time. Everything still looks correct and I am not sure if my confidence is a good sign or a really, really bad sign. Two minutes left now. I take my time gathering my things, then wait at the edge of my seat, once again bouncing my legs.

At last, Professor Ashton dismisses our class. I rush towards the front of the room, handing my exam to Professor Astons, before power walking down the long hall. I make it to the large glass doors of the building and brace myself for the cold december air.