Fishnet Magic

Chapter 6: Nipples and Senseless Rage

Lakewood Liberal Arts College presented numerous dichotomies for the students to spend their hours discussing.

And they did discuss it. At length. When stoned.

It was the oldest institution in the city of Lakewood Heights, but also had the first state-of-the-art virtual reality immersion lab in the country. It was an institution of stuffy tradition laced with enough pomp and circumstance to warrant the sale of monocles in the campus bookstore, but also had an unreasonably lax recreational marijuana policy.

Historical, but cutting edge. Staunchy, but progressive.

It was one of the reasons Lupita chose Lakewood College. She was looking for a school that had roots in tradition but fingers in the future. She wanted an alma mater where she could utter its name in conversation and watch eyes widen in surprise upon recognition. On top of that, thanks to their desperate attempt to diversify their ultra-rich, snowy-white student body, she was given a full ride scholarship.

As she approached the old, brownstone structure with the faded black and copper BRANAGH HALL sign above the heavy, antique wooden doors, she remembered something startling. The classrooms were another Twilight Zone paradox of new and old. The rooms of Branagh Hall, despite being as ancient as the first founding building of the sleepy town, were equipped with the most high-tech, brutal air conditioning units that could easily chill the entire stretch of the Sahara desert. Lupita hugged her backpack to her chest to cover the enormous wet spot that wasn't camouflaged by Princess Leia's buns. Today, Lupita wasn't wearing her jacket. Or a padded bra. The shirt stuck to the outline of her Target bralette, defining the exact shape of her breasts and nipples.

She raced up three creaky floors to room 302, peeked through the window in the large door, and breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Stillman, with his sharp blue eyes, dark brown stubble and perfectly deep voice for reciting Shakespeare and Thoreau, was fully engaged in his lecture. He was so intense, she believed the only way she could drag his attention away was to blow through the wall riding an atomic weapon while wearing nothing but a one-man band suit. She whispered a quick gracias Señor, pulled her backpack closer to her chest, and entered. She slipped through and headed toward the empty seat by Markus.

She was nearly in the middle of the class when she jerked back and was sent crashing to the floor on her ass. Her bag snagged on the door handle and went slingshotting backward, the whole thing landing on the floor in the front of the group, drawing all eyes to her.

"Glad you could join us, Lupita. Markus told us you had a coffee incident. An unfortunate career hazard for writers, I'm afraid. Have a seat." He gestured toward the empty single-occupant wooden chair-desk combo by Markus. "I was just about to elaborate on the high stakes I'm imposing on the end-of-term assignment."

Lupita grabbed her bag by the strap. Hunching her shoulders and shrinking down as small as possible, she slid into the desk seat.

Markus mouthed another apology to her.

She gave him a meek thumbs up.

"Contrary to popular belief, the annual Lakewood Student Symposium is not our version of the seventh-grade science fair for your parents' benefit. These things matter," Stillman said while perched on the edge of an empty student desk next to the dusty, untouched SMART Board in the corner of the room. "People come to these. People who are interested in investing in the budding careers of talented individuals. I've got some friends. Author friends who are looking to pay it forward and assist the next generation of promising voices. Being part of this symposium is a spotlight on your talents. Get this golden ticket, and you're one step closer to publication."

The P-word.

Lupita's heart fluttered. Her bones melted to soft cheese. Her eyes glazed over and her breathing quickened.