Down In Flames ✢

✢ TWO.

begging for thread ; banks ✢ city of the rose ; tyus ✢ biting down ; lorde ✢ cool girl ; tove lo ✢ confident ; justin bieber ft. chance the rapper

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⟨ ELIS ⟩

"My mom said to call her if you need anything. Here. She wrote down her number just in case." Layla's hand bumped into my chest as she held out a sticky note with scribbled writing on it. "But she works until five, so try not to need anything."

"Thanks." I mumbled absentmindedly, growing more anxious as I hurried down the corridor. "But the only thing I need is to get to class."

My pace quickened with each passing door, partially to distance myself from Layla but mostly to find my first lecture that I was now twelve minutes late for. Had it not been for the unpredictable traffic and the four people who took agonizingly lengthy showers before me, I would've been right on time. This morning proved, yet again, that Miami just wasn't for me. It was much too busy and moved much too fast for me to keep up with.

A pestering voice in the back of my head kept telling me that I didn't belong. It prodded me all last night as I did my best to prepare for whatever Ponce de León was going to throw at me, but all that groundwork was lost the second I stepped foot on campus. The relaxation and confidence I had built up spilled out of me like water from a fractured pipe. If I hadn't been so determined to hide my weakness from Layla, I would've already drowned in my own tears.

That persistence kept the spring in my step as my eyes scanned the numbers above each lintel, seeing them increase as I reached the end of the hall. I looked down at my schedule one last time to confirm that the three digits printed on my sheet matched the ones on the plaque in front of me. Thankfully, they both read Marston Hall, Room 225. This was it.

"I'll see you at home." I turned around to say goodbye but the hallway was completely empty. She had already left. With a sigh, I turned the knob and stepped inside quietly.

I didn't have enough time to mentally prepare for, or even anticipate, the mass of blank stares that greeted me as the door slammed shut behind me. My eyebrows pulled together instinctively in response to the not-so-subtle judgment that emitted off their expressions.

"If you were looking for a round of applause to accompany your dramatic entrance, you've come to the wrong place."

My attention switched from the students in desks to the professor standing on the platform in the front of the room. He wrote an equation on the board as he spoke, not even looking in my direction.

"Actually, I'm looking for —"

"Introduction to biostatistical concepts and reasoning?" He asked. I opened my mouth to respond but he beat me to it. "Then take a seat. If you're looking for a different class, take a seat anyway to save yourself the embarrassment of coming into the wrong room."

I tightened the grip of the paper in my hands and moved up the steps to find an empty seat. Multiple pairs of eyes followed me as I deliberately prolonged my walk to the back of the room. They were already staring, so rushing to a seat would only heighten the risk of me possibly tripping and landing flat on my face while they continued to stare at the girl who was twelve minutes late and ate the floorboards for breakfast. Instead, I opted to take my time.

I reached the last row and took the isle seat next to a blonde girl who had posture so perfect that I unconsciously straightened my back. Once everyone had finally shifted their attention off of me and back onto the front of the room, I slid my backpack off my shoulder and reached for a pen out of the front pocket.