Defining Normal | EMBRY CALL

Collision

January. Lex thinks it's one of the most beautiful months of the year: thirty-one blissful crisp mornings where frost covers every surface and rain descends on the town in thick sheets. There's nothing more gorgeous, she thinks, than watching the clouds roll in over the miles of forest surrounding Forks, making her feel as if she's in some kind of American Wuthering Heights. Lex can almost see it: her, traversing the rugged terrain out near Mount Rainer, wailing for her lost love, gazing thoughtfully across the frenzied ocean upon the cliffs at La Push, exploring the dense thickets near her house as the frost rolls in. Okay, she'd admit to being a bit of a closet romantic, but only when it came to nature. There was something so wonderful, so captivating, about the vast expanses of forest that surrounded her, full of a different kind of magic than the logging plantations she was raised on.

January, despite its bleakness, is a lovely month for nature. She could stare out the window of the campus bus for hours without a care, enjoying the long trundling journey that somehow made the small town feel so much larger. She'd grown used to travelling to and from Port Angeles in the previous quarter, and even though she was grateful she didn't need to go so far anymore - how could she turn down the shorter commute? - she did feel a slight trepidation at adjusting to the new campus - new people, new buildings, new ways to get lost and confused and disjointed. Lex had a way of doing that - overthinking to the point of worry, when really there was nothing too significant to fret over. She guessed it was a hangover from her previous life, where nothing and nobody changed in the eighteen years she had lived there. Her nineteenth year was one of tremendous change, and Lex still found herself getting hung up on the tiniest of things that really, truly, should not have been stressful.

Lex sighs as she glances out the rain-streaked window, noticing the campus coming into view. Peninsula College, despite its glowing online endorsements, amounted to little more than a small smattering of white panelled buildings that vaguely resembled an old shopping mall. Still, it had its perks: Lex has virtually no way of getting lost on campus, and there couldn't be too many new names to remember. The bus pulling in close to the office gives her a good opportunity to take stock of the small clusters of students huddled by cars or under the main building's awning. One group stands out to her in particular; a group of men, easily approaching seven feet tall, and one petite woman were grouped by an old Volkswagen. The height difference between the woman and the behemoth of a man hugging her is near comical, and as the man bends down to whisper in the woman's ear she can't help but watch. They seem to radiate pure intensity, a kind of loving energy she'd never seen before, and even though it feels as if she's intruding on something private, she still can't drag her eyes away.

It's only when one of the other men looks in her direction that she turns her head, mortified by her obvious voyeurism. There was something so enthralling about the couple's connection that drew her in like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was her sad little romantic heart, drawn to any sign of youthful love. Romance in Beaver was strictly limited to loggers: older, off-limits and highly reminiscent of her father. Sure, she carried herself through school with a small handful of kids her age, but none of them really posed any real interest to Lex. Her first quarter at college was overwhelming in a way, with so many new people to meet, to talk to, to learn more about. She wasn't at college to date, that was for sure, but she wasn't entirely opposed to it. Nervous, though? That was a given.

Her schedule was straightforward enough - a simple grid of classes, almost all conducted in the same room. As she headed to her first class, she began to notice a steady trickle of students entering the building. The corridors began to hum with the din of chatter and laughter, a definite improvement from the eerie silence of the morning. She found her class with plenty of time to spare, sliding into an empty seat that was perfectly in the middle of the room. Lex liked to learn, to think, but she hated to be noticed or called on, and so the centre suited her just fine - it was a great place to blend in. Students entered the class in short bursts, the seats quickly filling with little fanfare. It was a good opportunity for people watching - a hobby best-suited to the shy, she thinks, allowing her eyes to skim over the range of people surrounding her. She scrutinises the lanky, red-headed man, loudly guffawing at his desk-mate; the blonde woman with ridiculously long hair, weaving it into a neat braid; the two Native American women at the class' doorway, whispering to each other. People watching was comforting, in a way. Speculating on the lives of others was far easier than actually learning the truth, especially when the truth came with complications -