Seventh 2 Survive (WAYHAUGHT)

2-511816

Waverly was late for her lecture. Always on time, sitting towards the middle of the lecture hall to demonstrate she was keen but not too keen, other students taking their time, filling the seats around her. Not this morning. Scurrying in, she found the last seat towards the back, wondering whether she had the wrong day, or hour, the lecturer not her usual professor.

A tall, red-haired woman with an unmistakable American accent was in mid-sentence, commenting on the point on a slide about environmental stress factors and the cry of nature. An American herself, the sound of the professor's voice was pleasing having had to acclimatise to a variety of British accents since arriving in England. There were other American students at Oxford, some of whom had become friends, although she preferred to mix with British students, amused by their dry humour and insatiable appetite for warm beer.

Lecture over, Waverly made her way to the library to take up residence in her favourite spot on the second floor, namely a large and well-worn leather armchair close to the radiator. It was her thinking place, her place to go for a few hours each day to soak in whatever book she currently was reading, to plan her future, to send messages home telling Wynonna all about life in a foreign country. Having won a scholarship to study abroad for a Masters degree, her life was going places. As much as she loved her home town and the people she grew up with, at the back of her mind she always knew she would one day have to leave, spread her wings, fly beyond the boundary line to new and wondrous destinations.

At high school she was teased for being a little too smart, a little too studious, a little too bookish for some folks' liking, although to her credit she remained popular with those who were more inclined to pick up an eyebrow pencil than a pen. Her natural beauty and good eye for clothes to accentuate her lithe body allowed her to sit at the cool table during lunch and attend the best parties, even if she would have preferred to have been home, her nose deep in a book, pouring over the theories surrounding the future of the spinning globe she and eight billion others called home.

The environment fascinated her, as did nature. As a young child she would sit outside for hours, immersed in a world of vibrant activity, wishing she could emerge from a cocoon with beautiful wings allowing her to fly over the fields, surveying all beneath. Wynonna would tease she was too fat to ever leave the ground, and too plain to ever merit the wings of a butterfly. She would cry, and tell her sister she was being mean, which simply gave Wynonna more ammunition to throw back at her younger sister. And yet, with all the teasing, and the ribbing, somewhere deep within her soul Waverly knew she was destined for something more than a pasture in Purgatory.

She nearly missed her afternoon seminar, thankful to have set a reminder on her phone. Gathering up her books and bag, scrambling into her jacket she raced to the room, barely making it in time. Four other students looked at her as she entered slightly out of breath, discarding everything in her hands, pulling out her folder ready for whatever wisdom their professor was about to impart.

Looking up she realised their professor had yet to arrive, the girl seated next to her smiling. "We're going to the pub later, darts competition, free beer to the winners."

"Chrissy, you know I've never played."

"Nothing to it. Throw a tiny arrow at a round board, hit a number, you'll get the hang of it quick enough."

"Where's Professor Wheeler? He's usually here before us."

"No idea. There's a new woman filling in. One of your lot."

The door opened, the tall redhead entering, placing several books on the desk at the front, taking up position by leaning against said item of furniture, feet crossed, hands resting on the edge.