Raise The Bar

chapter one

 I should be dead right now.

Pulling my third consecutive all-nighter in a row, I look fucked. And not in the way a person should be fucked. Nope, not even close. It's more dreadful, tiring, and traumatic.

My alarm buzzes indicating that I should be moving onto the next subject. I have tried every study technique known to man and we're on number- I've lost count.

I cover my face with the soft comforter, practically seducing me back into bed for a desiring slumber.

I have a test in class, which after three hours of studying, I feel willfully unprepared for. Story of my life.

My professor is a truly terrifying human being.

Reading the drunk notifications I got from last night I see a missed call with a voicemail from an unknown number.

Hey, ur friend, Madison I think her name was? Sweet ass.  she gave me ur number. I'm Xander, I go to Westin, just across town. I'm a freshman, so uh, down for a fuck? Call me back babe. (1:03 a.m.)

It's nice to know chivalry isn't dead yet.

One-night stands with horny, sweaty freshmen aren't the ideal hook-up most people search for.

It's noon and the weather isn't as bad as I thought it would be, kind of chilly, but not the worst it's been this week.

I grab the candle from my side desk that I forgot to burn out yesterday and lightly blow on it till the fuse dies out.

I stare into space thinking for a few minutes.

Partially about how I could've burned the apartment down since I didn't blow the candle out but on the bright side my room smells good.

I look at the time and decide I need to start getting ready for my Critical Theory class. I settle for a sweatshirt and sweatpants today and grab my books, shoving them into my bag.

I layer up in a giant coat and hat which Mads would call a fashion crime against humanity but I make a pot of coffee and leave some for her so hopefully, she'll forgive me when I come home.

I heard rustling her rustling around four a.m. so I'm sure she's back. Thank god for one-night stands and the walk of shame or else I wouldn't have woken up in the middle of the night to clean the papers off of my bed.

I walk to the English building across fifty-eighth street which is only a short ten-minute trip but in the cold air, it makes it harder to breathe under the immense layering situation of my outfit. I reach the building of warm air and chairs so I can stop freezing. Growing up in Chicago, it's still hard to take in the cold atmosphere.

My class is small and consists of one Professor and fifteen other students. We sit in a circle and usually discuss literary and social issues such as postmodernism and marxism. We expand into the dominant social and political structures of communication, one of my favorite professor's classes, Maxwell J. Li, who is and will forever remain, one of my favorite teachers ever.

"Grab a seat and let's get started." I hear a faint yawn in the background and it's Carson Avery, a sophomore on the basketball team. Smart guy but has zero care in the world, or at least that's what he acts like.

The class passes fast and I'm thankful for it so I can cram in a study session. I grab my materials before Professor Li pulls me aside.

"Genevieve, I wanted to discuss your last term paper with you. It was an excellent analysis of critical theory and philosophy. I was hoping to set up an interview with an old friend of mine so you can get to work on a thesis." I'm internally freaking out.