Young Writers Society

I was getting on that Dean's List.

In order to apply for the Master's program, I needed to have an overall 3.0 GPA. I was at a 2.88 that semester. Getting on the Dean's List was my incentive to obtain the grades required to convert a measly 2.88 to an acceptable 3.0.

I lived a mundane life.

But that was college. And college was needed to get a degree. And a degree was needed to get a job. And a job was needed so I could finally get out of my room and my parent's house and my mundane life.

The first two weeks were typical school stuff. I went to class. I met my teachers. I nodded my head during their lectures so they wouldn't realize how confused I was. And then I had a four-day weekend to decode their lectures. So, the Dean's list was still in my grasps.

Then came the third week.

For two weeks, the professor had warned us. I had already begun strategizing whom my potential project partner would be. My social circle could wrap around the circumference of an ant and still not form a complete circle. So, my only requirement was a living body. I had done several projects entirely by myself. I prepared to do the same. All I needed was that body.

I was packing my papers into my folder. Class had concluded. I was familiar with being the last to leave class. The deadline for partners was mentioned again by the professor. My seat in every class was always at the farthest back corner of the room. I saw everything.

But I could not foresee you.

C H 1 - Let's Begin Again

I don't look people in the face.

An odd quirk, I think, but one I practice regularly. So, when you stood there before my seat, I had not initially realized your identity. But I heard your request all the same. You offered to be the body I needed for my project.

"I would love to," I still vividly remember replying because of how you paused and then laughed.

And the deal was set.

The next task was to exchange numbers. For an engineer, I lived in prehistoric times. I tried to offer you a piece of paper, but struggled to find a sufficient sacrifice. You quickly supplied your phone. My number was yours and yours was mine.

I think the next time we met was a week later. Or that Monday. What I do remember was being in one of the nosiest libraries of my educational period. Using music and headphones to drown out the sounds of library-barbarism, I had decided to face the odds and complete an entire homework assignment before heading to our class. Instead, I received your text.

It's risible to think there was a time I didn't desire it.

You wanted to meet up with me. You wanted to discuss what topic we should pick for our project. We were scheduled to make the official decision when we went to class in a few hours. So, there was nothing unusual about this request. I offered to meet you outside of class a half-an-hour early. Picking a topic was simple. This homework I wanted done was not. You instead offered for me to meet you elsewhere. Earlier.

After an hour, and only a portion of the homework completed, I reluctantly agreed. You were my project partner, and I needed to make certain you could rely on me. Even if it meant readjusting my schedule. And I appreciated your initiative. So, after clarifying some confusion of where you were located, I made the inconvenient walk to the third floor of the building where the room I never heard of before was located.

There were two other girls there.

The room you invited me to was for the club you were a part of. As you had mentioned in your text, it was on the third floor of the Engineering Building next to the main stairway. The rectangular room was about the size of an average-income living room. The majority of the space was taken by an oval-shaped wooden table. The two girls were seated across from one another toward the front of the room that I had entered from. You were seated at the far back of the room with seats between you and the girls.

These two girls were also members of your club. And I knew them both. I had talked to both of them before and was ecstatic to see them again. Far more than I was to see you. In fact, I had initially attempted to sit by them. Instead, they guided me to a seat near you.

I legitimately don't remember much of this exchange with you. I know we had both made lists of our preferred topics from the ones listed on the rubric. We might have coordinated this in class. Again, I don't remember. But it ended with you taking to the task of combining our lists together and picking the highest-ranking ones based off of any we had in common.

I do remember talking to the two girls.

They both revealed to me that they were in the class that the homework I was trying to finish was from. Finding people to study with was a rarity for me. Especially people with the studying dedication that I knew these two girls possessed. However, I was not certain how to bring up the conversation. We talked briefly about the homework. But the conversation changed before I could muster the courage to make my request of them. We talked about graduation, our curriculum, our courses, whether we commuted, and where we were from. The exact segue is a lost memory now, but the conversation changed to a recent horror movie. I remember my enthusiasm.

Then you entered the conversation by asking me a question about the movie.

It somehow led to my reply, "I'm not certain if the monster will make sense if you haven't read the book."

Then you and the girls began talking about your own group of subjects. I had returned to attempting to complete my homework. I was halfway done. And I wanted to segue back into this subject when the opportunity arose.

I was asked to join your club.

I don't remember if it was you or one of the girls that asked me this. But I remember looking up and seeing you standing behind this girl and the two of you were staring at me as you waited for my response. Which was inconvenient because I froze. I really didn't know you. I really didn't know your club. And I wanted to get on the dean's list. And I was afraid to join a social club and lose that opportunity. We all stared at each other until it became obvious that I was not going to supply an answer.

Even with hindsight, I honestly don't know if that was a good or bad turn of events.