AllFreeNovel
Share Us
11
Luke
I pulled into the parking lot of FSNY, pissed that I was late for my first-ever class. It had been a long, hard battle to get there. Firstly, from an admissions perspective, as I wasn’t taking the usual post-grad route. But even more so in terms of fighting with my hard-headed asshole of a twin brother, and to a lesser extent, the rest of the band, about my right to pursue my interest in film, when the band seemed to be on the verge of something big.
I’d spent my whole life yielding to Arlo’s way of doing things—even the occasions I’d put up in a fight, I was always the one to back down—but this was the one time I’d put my foot down and kept it there until I got what I wanted. I even threatened to leave the band, if that was what it took to pursue the one thing that made me as happy as music. Arlo had no choice but to relent, for probably the first time in his entire life. If he had any say in the matter, it would likely be the last time, too.
I’d only crawled into bed at four a.m. after our gig, and even with all the desire, and the best of intentions, had struggled to haul ass only a few hours later, despite setting three alarms. I knew that the car park was for staff only, but if I’d have tried to find parking on the busy and heavily parking-restricted streets around the campus, or worse still, caught public transportation, I never would have made it to class.
I flung my car into what wasn’t really a space as it essentially blocked another car in, and hoped for the best. If I came back to find it had been towed, clamped or vandalized as a result. then that was a price I was willing to pay. I raced across the lot, map in hand, trying to find the lecture hall for History of Film as quickly as possible. No mean feat given that I hadn’t ever set foot inside the building.
The gods must have finally been shining on me when the first person I stopped to ask for help knew exactly where I needed to go, and it was just down the hall I was already in. I ran to the opposite end of the corridor, skidding to a stop like the wayward, rebellious kid in just about every teen movie ever made. Opening the door, I practically fell into the lecture hall, breathless and sweaty. Just like in those movies, all eyes in the place swiveled to look at me as though I was something that had crawled out of the toilet bowl. The only sound was my heavy breathing as I tried to catch my breath, and the lecturer’s voice as she finished her sentence.
“Good morning, Mr.…” She consulted what I assumed to be a student roll. “Jones, I presume?” I nodded mutely, both because I was still struggling to get air into my lungs after running to class, and because I’d been holding my breath since I entered the room.
“Well, Mr. Jones, what are you waiting for? Come in and take a seat. You’re already late, don’t waste more time standing at the door gawking like a guppy. You’re derailing the whole class.”
A quiet snicker spread through the room, and I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt more humiliated. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. I was pissed at her for making a fool of me in front of a roomful of people, but more so, I was livid that I’d put myself in a position where that could happen. I took a seat—the one nearest to the door—and tried to school my features into some semblance of neutrality. I more than likely failed miserably.
“So, what you missed among other things, Mr. Jones, given you’re...” She glanced down at her watch. “Twenty-eight minutes late, was my explanation of the fact that I don’t tolerate lateness to, or unexplained absences from my class. Both attract a strike against your name. Three strikes and you automatically lose a credit. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. Are we clear on that point?”
“Yes Dr. Patterson, we’re clear.” I spat out her name as though it were poisonous, and didn’t miss her slight wince. Damn. I needed to get myself under control. She recovered quickly as she carried on speaking.
“Good. You can apologize at the end of class. In the meantime, you haven’t missed much, so you’re lucky.”
The rest of the lecture passed in a total blur. Dr. Patterson talked us through the course structure, the assignments we’d need to complete including some group work, the practical and theoretical aspects of the class, the grading process, etc. While I was excited beyond belief to have made it onto the course and looking forward to throwing myself into all that entailed, a feeling of dread also settled in the pit of my stomach as I listened to her talk.
I silently reprimanded myself for being a pussy. It was something Arlo accused me of all the time, and to which I normally responded telling him to go eat a bag of dicks. I knew he was full of shit. It was just a symptom of the sibling rivalry and antagonism that had plagued our relationship since before we could walk and talk. It had gotten a little better since the bad old days when we couldn’t even be in the same room as each other without drawing blood, but we were still just about as far from Brady Bunch status as two siblings who did ultimately love each other could be.
Ironically, the only time I’d previously agreed with his assessment was whenever I thought about how I’d let the situation with Marnie, and therefore him, get the better of me all those years ago. I continued to live with the consequences of my actions—or more accurately, my inaction—every day.
Today I added more evidence to the list. What other explanation was there for the fact that I spent the entire session willing myself to walk out of the door and not come back, yet had sat there stewing and seething, unable to do what I knew I needed to?
