Not Like You

Chapter Four

I made sure to wake up early to shower before class, and based on the sheer number of people in the bathroom at four-thirty in the morning, It was a good idea to.

I put on My Skyrim T-shirt (I'm a proud leader of the Companions, FYI) and my favorite pair of jeans, tying my hair back in my signature pony.

There is a coffee shop just outside of campus, so I checked it out. When I walked in, it smelled like freshly baked donuts. The floors and booths were made of dark wood, accented by the white walls and white cousins, a splash of color across a select few. My favorite sight was the side wall, which was made of bookshelves high enough for me to need a ladder for.

"Good morning," greeted the lady behind the counter. She looked a little older than my Mother and had some baking flower smeared on the top of her apron.

"Good Morning. Can I have one coffee with just cream and sugar, and a maple donut please?" she nodded, smiling all through the order.

"I haven't seen you around before. Are you a freshman this year?" she asked. I nodded.

"Yes, I am. Do you get many freshmen here?" she shook her head.

"Half of the school doesn't even know this shop exists. You'd think since it was on the edge of campus, they would be drawn here like flies," she handed me my bag and coffee.

"Yes, one would assume so. Do you run this shop alone?" I asked. She shook her head.

"My husband, Finch, comes in around noon and helps. I started the shop before we were married, but he bought some stock in it. Said I shouldn't do it on my own. I'm Becky by the way," she extended her hand and I shook it.

"Rose," she turned her head thoughtfully.

"That's a beautiful name. Classic, really," I smiled.

"Yes, it is. My Mother always loves to... Well, I guess she used to love books. She always had her head stuck in one. Actually, when I was little she told me she named me Rose because she saw it in so many books, but never in person. She said she wanted to bring a little of her world out," I chuckled to myself.

"Yes, I was always a book lover. Part of the reason I created this shop. I always wanted to see kids enjoy books as I did. Well, books have decreased over the years. My shop is empty until lunch and the sheer number of laptops and smartphones people bring in here," Becky pauses and shakes her head.

"Well, I'll make sure to come in and read, then. I'm probably going to need a space to hide out from my roommate anyway," Becky nodded and we said our goodbyes. I trotted back out and drank my coffee on the way to my writing class.

The lecture hall had maybe thirty people in it. I read that the school had a small writer's community, but this was tiny.

Too tiny for comfort.

The first and second row were hardly occupied, so I sat near the front.

The man behind the desk was older than us but still looked in the younger years. He watched as each student flowed in, taking a seat far away from each other, but close enough to not become an outcast.

"Well, I guess that's all then," he said, standing up and walking to the front of his desk, leaning on it before taking a quick look around.

"I'm your professor for Writing this Semester, or for some lucky people, for this year. You may call me Professor Scott. Now, Today is syllabus day, and we won't be doing much, but you will have a homework assignment," he grabbed a big box and opened it, revealing large notebooks.

"You will do a report on of your classmates. I can tell none of you know each other, and one of my goals is to change that. Come up and grab a notebook. Make sure to keep it close, it is the only thing, besides a pencil, you will ever need for this class," He watched as one by one, each student came up and grabbed a notebook. When it was my turn, I grabbed a notebook. The first thing I noticed was the texture of the cover. Plastic. These were high-dollar notebooks, and they had way more than your standard seventy or one-hundred pages.