Chapter 3

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I give myself two seconds to stand there at the front of the lecture hall in absolute humiliation before I lift my chin and scope out the room for somewhere to sit.

My shoes make the most horrific squelching noise as I walk and I meet the eyes of a few people who are staring at me with their mouths wide open. I hear someone say "yikes" under their breath when I walk past.

Of course, the only open seats are the ones at the front of the room. Just perfect.

The professor has begun to speak again and I silently thank him for it.

I slump into a seat in the front row and the girl next to me subtly shifts away from me. I mean, come on, hasn't anyone ever seen a little water and mud before?

Truthfully, my mood is darker than the storm clouds outside. Mostly because of Sukuna, obviously, but also because of the dipshit who picked me up. The only dipshit I'd ever trust to pick me up, actually.

The thing about my drug addict older brother is that he's surprisingly reliable. I know he feels indebted to me because I've let him crash with me more times than I can count, maybe that's why he always picks up when I call. Maybe it's the cash that I shove into his hand every time he leaves me again. Or, maybe it's the face I make when I give it to him, silently begging him to use it for necessities, not drugs. I think he knows that he owes me a lot for putting me through all his shit.

But also, I'm his little sister. He's fucked up his own life, but he still cares about mine. He screamed at me the whole way back to campus about how irresponsible I am for getting in the car with Sukuna, for ever being with Sukuna, for not telling him I'd be seeing Sukuna again. Gosh, I got an earful.

By the time he dropped me off outside of my hall, I was so pissed that I didn't accept the dry, warm sweatshirt he offered me. He cursed at me, I slammed the door, and he sped off.

I silently seethe at the whole world as I yank my (thankfully waterproof) backpack open, and grab my laptop. I pull up my university's site and find the link to the class's syllabus that we're currently going over. I skim over it, the things I missed.

Seems like it'll be a pretty basic English literature class.

I mean, it is objectively a pretty basic English literature class because it's one of the general education courses that we need to graduate. I have no doubt that most of the people in this class are freshmen. Ugh.

I'm not sure why I put off this class for so long exactly. I want to say it's because I got so caught up in the coursework for my major that I just happened to forget about it until senior year, but I know that's not really the case. I think that deep down, I wanted to take a class senior year that I truly loved. I was saving this course because I knew I would end up enjoying it. And it'd be an easy A, of course.

I have always been obsessed with literature and reading. I feel like I've been able to experience all sorts of lives through the books I read and I cling to that feeling with everything I've got. Even my asshole brother gets me a book for my birthday every year.

I scroll through the syllabus and down to the required book list. A smile pulls at my lips. Lots of classics. Books I've already read before. Books that I've been wanting to read.

I'm typing some of the titles into Amazon, checking out prices and not even listening to the professor, when I feel someone looking at me. An odd chill runs down my neck and I shiver. Then again, maybe that's because I'm still freezing to the bone.

Looking up, I make eye contact with the TA, who's sitting, well lounging, in a chair to the right of the professor, directly in front of me. His appearance gives me a pause.

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