The Eleventh Dance

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Not even ten minutes later, I found myself regretting it. Well, not regretting my choice to join Dance Sensasians, specifically. Definitely regretted dawdling around talking to Parker, getting lost between the chemistry and engineering buildings, and doing the walk of shame nearly twenty minutes late into my biology classroom.

My GSI, a short but severe-looking blonde with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, pinned me with one vicious glare over the tops of her glasses. "Now, I know this is only the second week of classes, but do try to be on time. Coming in late is disruptive." She said this to the class at large, but everyone was staring at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Because the universe was conspiring against me, my phone chose that moment to let out an audible ding!

"And no phones in class," Lacey added sternly.

I felt a flush creep over my face and plopped myself down in the only open seat in the back, praying that nothing else would happen to me, like the sky collapsing onto my head or something. Although, it felt like my world was already falling apart. Introduction to Biology was supposed to be a hard enough class even without being on the GSI's bad side.

As I silenced my phone, I couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the text that had sealed my grave.

Nancy: So how's your first day of classes at Brookings??

Her timing really couldn't have been worse. Swell, thx to u and ur horribly timed text!! I imagined writing back. Instead I pocketed my phone and did my best to push any lingering embarrassment to the back of my mind.

"How many of you in this class are pre-med?" The GSI, who told us to call her Lacey, asked. Almost every hand shot up into the air except mine. "Awesome. About two of you will still be pre-med by the end of this class." Her announcement was met by groans.

"I hate weeder classes," mumbled an Indian guy with thick black square-rimmed glasses from beside me.

As Lacey went over the syllabus, I tried to pay attention, but it was a lost cause. My mind started wandering somewhere in between Lacey's explanation of her grading scale and the university penalties for cheating.

I couldn't stop replaying the events of the day before. Wondering who the culprit could possibly be.

My gaze wandered around the room, assessing my classmates. Most of them looked exactly like doctors-in-the-making. Lots of Asians, which I'd been expecting from the science departments. My eyes landed on the back profile of one Asian boy in particular, sitting three rows directly in front of me. His profile looked familiar. Way too familiar.

My fears were confirmed when Lacey moved on to roll call. "Chris Ishikawa," she stated. The Asian boy raised his hand.

I bit back a groan. The sky hadn't fallen on me, but this was just as bad. Scratch that. Worse.

"...Amelia Xu."

Now it was Chris who was caught off guard. Jolting slightly in his seat, he turned around, slowly, as if resigning himself to a grotesque sight, maybe roadkill. We locked eyes--and glares. After the space of a heartbeat, Chris swiveled back around in his chair.

Fantastic. A GSI who hated me and a past hookup who insisted on popping up everywhere I went. I'd be lucky if I survived to see second semester.

Lacey set her clipboard on her desk, pushing her glasses up her nose, her expression turning grave. "With that, I would like to end class by having an open and honest discussion about the racially-charged incident that occurred last night at approximately seven P.M. in West Tower."

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