trouvaille

photojournalism

Saoirse~

I stare in the mirror, fighting the urge to scream. I had no time to shower, and my hair just wasn't cooperating with me this morning.

"Stupid morning classes, stupid art." I grumbled, yawning and rubbing my eyes. I loved art, and I loved my classes, photography had been especially interesting as of late, so I was thoroughly enjoying our photography unit but it was just so early.

I pulled my hair up, sighing at the inky mess piled on top of my head. A ponytail would have to do today.

I put on a pair of jeans and a white sweater, hopping through my apartment as I struggled to pull on my shoes.

"Gnocchi, I'm leaving!" I called as I grabbed my bag and my phone.

I stumble out the door, nearly face planting on the shiny tile of my building's hallway.

"Rough morning, Saoirse?" A familiar voice chuckles and I smile, whipping around to face my neighbor, Mr. Robertson.

"You have no idea Sir," I laugh. "I stayed up too late painting and slept through my alarm, so I now have-" I flip my wrist to check my watch- "15 minutes to get to class."

Mr. Robertson rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue.

"Why am I not even surprised? Have a good day, Saoirse. Oh, and Margaret asked me to remind you about tea on Friday, she has some questions about the plant you gifted her." He says.

I nod and offer him a tight smile. I love my neighbors, they have always been very kind to me, but glancing at my watch made my heart rate spike.

I am never late to class.

"I'll be there, Sir. Have a nice day!" I wave and try not to run to the stairs.

When I get outside the sun is beaming and the hot air immediately makes me regret deciding to wear a black sweater. I don't have time to change. I curse morning classes once again.

The sidewalks are crowded, and so I have to elbow my way through pedestrians loitering to watch street artists or peer in shop windows, muttering apologies as I walk.

My watch beeps letting me know that I am officially late to class and I sigh, picking up the pace. I can see my university up ahead, no more than a 2 minute walk left.

I grip my backpack straps tightly and jog through the street, wincing at the angry beeping of cars and the harsh words directed towards me. I wave apologetically and sigh when I make it back onto the sidewalk, before resuming my jog to class.

When I push open the doors, panting and glancing at my watch once more, other students smile sympathetically at me. I smile back as best as I can while still rushing to get to Mr. Smith's class. Gods, I hope he isn't angry with me. He has quite the reputation for scolding students for tardiness, and I have (until now) never been on the receiving end of his wrath.

I stop in front of the door, peering into the tiny window to see Mr. Smith standing in front of the class, waving his hands expressively as he talks.

I sigh and push the door open, watching a classroom full of young adults turn to me, some glaring at me for interrupting, and some holding back giggles, because of the scolding I am no doubt about to receive.

As if summoned by my thought, Mr. Smith whips around, his eyes meeting mine and his eyebrow twitching, making me flinch.

Well, this will be lovely.

"You're late, Saoirse. You know how I feel about tardiness. I'm already busy ENOUGH with classes and my work, and yet you think it's acceptable to just walk in here, late, without any consequences? Do you think it's acceptable for you to waste my time like this?" He's yelling, now, and it's too much. I feel my eyes start to water and a violent heat paints my cheeks.

"N- no Sir, I apologise. It won't- it won't happen again." I say, my voice trembling as a tear escapes and rolls down my cheek, horrifying me further.

"I'm sorry? You think that's enough? I've heard that so many times, it's lost meaning at this poi-"

"Stop, Be- Mr. Smith. That's enough. This lady helped me yesterday, and I'd rather not see her chastised today." A voice called out from the back, a voice that sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn't quite put a name to it.

She stands up, a bright smile on her face, like she knows she can end this easily. She walks up to Mr. Smith and I, and I finally recognize her.

Wren.

Thank the gods.

Mr. Smith looks astonished at her interruption, blank-faced and confused-looking.

"Wre- Ms. Williams? I'm sorry, are you teaching my class? Who are you to teach me how to behave with my students?" He asks.

"Actually, I am today. So, maybe go sit down and we'll talk about this later so we can get back to introducing me." Wren smiles, and Mr. Smith, looking beaten, goes to sit down. "I'm Wren Avaline Williams. You can call me Ms. Williams. I'm here to teach you about photojournalism. Any questions before we start?"

I stand there with my mouth hanging open, eyes still watering slightly from the embarrassment of what just happened. I look at Wr- Ms. Williams and feel my cheeks go pink again.

"I-" I don't know what to say or do. I stand frozen, like a deer in headlights.

"You can go sit down now, Saoirse." Ms. Williams smiles, and motions to the projector, which is now showing a photo collage.

I feel red spill across my cheeks once again and nod rapidly, almost jogging to the closest seat (right in the front... Mr. Smith is scary) and collapsing into it, pulling out my laptop and focusing on the screen.

Wr- Ms. Williams starts her presentation.