6 (pt. i)

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LETTING OUT A defeated sigh, I fall back against the stiff backrest of the classroom chair. The black computer screen stares back at me, the little circle at the top glaring at me like the evil eye as I try to scavenge some final thoughts as to how to turn the thing on.

While this is my third official day of university, I've somehow managed to escape the deceivingly simple task that is turning on one of the sleek-looking computers on campus. Up until now, that is. But my Formal Writing professor assigned an in-class assignment due by the end of the period, and it has to be submitted using one of the in-class computers. Figuring out how to get the monitor and keyboard to pop out from its niche within the desk was easy, but figuring out how to actually power on the computer is a puzzle I have yet to solve.

Having searched everywhere for the start button, I come to the realization that the only way I'm going to even be able to start this assignment is by asking for help. Turning around to see if there's anyone who could be of aid to my left, I'm met with the sight of a glasses-wearing boy with his fierce gazed fixed on the screen in front of him, fingers clamoring violently against the white keypad. His intense gaze is enough to send me shifting in my seat to see who's to my right. Seated in the chair next to me, one black denim-clad leg crossed over the other, is a fair-skinned girl, her jet black hair styled in a tidy pixie cut. The relaxed air she gives off makes me think she's feeling confident with the upcoming assignment, so I decide asking her is probably better than disturbing the bundle of nerves to my left.

"Excuse me," I say, and she turns around. The vibrancy of her green eyes catches me off guard, and it takes a moment before I'm able to string a coherent sentence together. When her dark eyebrows furrow together slightly as a look of confusion appears on her face, I'm reminded of the task at hand. "Um, I was wondering if you could help me turn this on."

Her lips quirk into a friendly smile as her eyebrows relax. "It's not that obvious, is it?" she agrees, leaning toward my keyboard. "This here—" she extends a slender finger to one of the white rectangular keys in the far left corner "—is the power button."

It's only when I inspect the button she's referencing that I realize it has a small power symbol etched into the surface, although it's pale as a watermark and nearly impossible to decipher unless you're looking for it.

Relieved, I turn around and offer the girl a gracious smile. "Thank you. I'd probably have spent the entire class trying to figure out how to turn this thing on."

The girl's lips quirk up in a small smile as she relaxes back in her seat. "I'm Chelsea, by the way."

"Gemma."

"Is this your first quarter at Licapta-U?" Chelsea inquires.

A sardonic chuckle passes through my lips as I say, "It's that obvious, huh?"

Chelsea's smile turns sympathetic, but the glint in her green eyes conveys to me she's teasing. "Just a tad."

Before either of us can speak another word, our professor—a blonde-haired woman sporting a ponytail who looks like she can't be much older than anyone in the class— announces that the chatter has to stop so she can administer our assignment, and Chelsea and I focus our attention back to our respective computers.

After trudging through the first assignment that I can remember ever completing—one that, thankfully, was for assessment purposes only and not graded— I tidy the monitor and keyboard away and make my way toward the exit, shouldering my backpack in the process.

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