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Malia-Tarni
I can’t believe I let Summer drag me out last night. It was past two in the morning when I got back to my dorm, and I was up at five this morning for a surf. I needed to clear my head. I definitely have ‘first day of class’ nerves. Being in the water helped to calm me.
When I’m in the ocean, I feel like my true self. Like a board, I feel completely useless on land. Out of my depth and comfort zone. But in water, I thrive. I feel like I’m doing what I was born to do.
Today, the surf wasn’t up to much down in the bay, but it never really is. I’ve spent some time getting to know all the best spots but without transport, it’s too tricky to catch some decent waves and get back in time for school, but it was pretty awesome to just float on my board in the early morning light. I think I had a little doze because by the time I reached the shore, I was in danger of being late for my first class.
I can’t be late. Ever. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if I was late to anything. Crippling anxiety makes my knees almost give way even acknowledging how close I might be cutting it.
I race back to my dorm to stash my board, and I only have time to pull on jean shorts and a crochet cami over my red bikini. It’s not too damp so it’ll do, and the weather is nice enough that I won’t look out of place or ridiculously dressed for class.
Rushing to the lecture hall, I’m just able to slide into my seat before my professor steps through the door. I think I got away with it, but it still takes several minutes for my heart rate to return to normal.
The lecture space is busy, the course popular, but there seems to be an elevated – manic almost – hubbub that goes above and beyond first day excitement.
Surprisingly, the room doesn’t quiet when the teacher steps up to the podium to begin his lecture, and so I slip my noise cancelling earbuds in. It’s not enough to quiet the mind chatter so I hit go on my playlist too. Whatever everyone’s all riled up about, I don’t want to know. I just want to get through the day and my first set of classes without Summer by my side since I started my schooling.
Despite the raging music pounding my skull, I know exactly when he arrives. The hum of all the voices and thoughts vibrating across my skin quiets and withdraws. He knocks into my chair as he stretches his long legs out and this time I don’t bother to turn around and confront him.
I slide my crossed ankles an inch to the right so that our feet touch, and it’s instantaneous. Like someone pressing mute. I relax. Even the actual, physical noise in the room doesn’t bother me like it usually would. I don’t know who this magician is, but I owe him everything for helping me to reach this sensory Nirvana.
Just not enough to actually turn around and speak to him. Yet. Probably ever. Almost definitely in fact. I don’t do talking to strangers if it can be avoided. And this enormous mountain of a man – ugh damn metaphors again – is absolutely avoidable.
I notice that the teacher has stopped talking and I quickly mute my music to see why. He looks angry, his dark brows pulled together and one hand fisted on the lectern as he points to someone in the second row. Thank god he didn’t call on me. I have no idea what the question was.
Whatever the student tells him in response must shock him because all of the anger drains from his face and he blanches. His chocolate skin even pales somewhat. I’m slipping the earbuds from my ears to find out what’s going on when he turns abruptly and storms from the room.
Gossiping whispers erupt all around me, and when the guy behind me shifts and leaves his seat, those whispers are drowned out by the onslaught of a hundred buzzing thoughts.
Within a moment or two, students begin to pack up and leave. I almost itch to ask someone what’s going on, but the fear of talking to strangers is stronger than my desire to know what’s happening. Why are people leaving? Where did the teacher go? Shouldn’t we stay in case he returns?
I’m contemplating what to do as the hall quickly empties and I’m the last one remaining. I take a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet, which is perhaps why I’m then able to notice my phone buzzing in my bag. It’s on silent, but must be vibrating against one of my books or something. There’s no way I’d hear it normally with everything going on.
I pull the phone from my bag and see that I have several messages and missed calls from Summer. Worried, I immediately hit redial without checking the messages. It seems urgent and I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer.
“MT! Thank god you called! Did you get my messages?” She sounds panicked, out of breath, like she’s been running. The idea of Summer running would make me laugh if she didn’t sound so odd right now.
“Erm, no, I didn’t. I was in class.”
“Didn't you hear? Classes have been cancelled today.”
“What? Why? My lecturer was just here so clearly he didn’t get the memo. Did the university send an email or—”
“MT! Listen! Someone’s died okay? On campus. They were at the party last night.”
“Oh.” I don’t really know what to say to that. Empathy is not my strong point. And while it is a tragedy, people do die all the time. Especially reckless, drunk college students. And it’s not like I knew whoever it was. I only know Summer. And maybe the mountain guy. And he very clearly wasn’t dead. So…
It occurs to me that Summer is chattering away in the background and I’ve not heard a word she’s saying. Then I think, maybe Summer knew the person that died. And that’s why she’s so upset.
“MT, are you listening?”
“No. Sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t.” I’m apologising both for her loss and the not listening thing.
“I was saying that the uni have sent a message to say that classes have been cancelled today while the police come on campus to investigate and that we’ve all been asked to cooperate, and not post anything on social media. Which of course means it’s all over social media! There’s pictures of the sheet covering the body and even though you can’t see anything, there’s a lot of blood. And someone even posted the victim’s uni ID photo – not that they’ve been formally identified yet or anything.”
“The police are coming onto campus?”
“Standard procedure when someone dies.”
