There are a number of hard-core revelations that people have once they get to college. Or so I have witnessed from my eagle-eyed view. Some of these revelations are carnal. The lack of “adult” supervision opens up a whole world of possibilities, not just sexually, but alcoholically, marihuanically, and even at the cafeteria. You would be amazed at the amount of pizza an 18-year-old boy can consume without actually exploding.
Then there are the academic revelations. You soon discover that everything you have ever been taught is wrong—or, at the very least, skewed—whcih can be very uncomfortable. It can leave you unmoored: if those weren’t the causes of the Civil War, what else have they been lying to you about? What other lies have they forced you to write in term papers and short answers on tests?
“Are you okay?” Declan asks her.
“I’m fine,” Raven lies. “I just don’t know if I like it here.”
It wasn’t the classes. “I really like that Astronomy Lab. I mean, like, I wish there was an actual lab with, like, telescopes, but I mean, I don’t know.”
“Not too much math?”
“I don’t mind the math, actually?”
“You wanna take more math?”
“I wanna take more music.”
They were both taking music theory. Together. It was fun.
“Theory isn’t enough, though.”
They were doing a musical in the drama department…
“I don’t wanna do that kind of music. Something is just… off. I don’t know.”
“How long have you been with that guy, Declan?” Her name was Natalie—Nattie for short—and she was dressed like a lesbian.
“Since sophomore year. In high school.”
“Is he the only guy you’ve uh…”
“But you’ve been dating him this whole time?”
She shrugs. “Pretty much.”
“Do you love him?”
“Look, if you’re hitting on me, just please just come out and say it.”
Nattie looks shocked. “I wasn’t… I mean…”
“I know I come off as damaged and vulnerable, but Declan is a great guy. I’m trying. I’m happier with him than I… It’s not his fault that I’m fucked up. It’s thanks to him I’m not more fucked up right now, so just, please.”
She threw Declan up against the wall outside his dorm room, pinned him, hovered over him, breathing him in. “I don’t think I like college much,” she confessed.
“I think you do.”
“I like the classes. But why do we have to hang out with all these douchebags?”
“We don’t,” her boyfriend of three years promises her.
“You promise?” He does.
But that was never gonna last, was it?