NEWBORN: Book One of the Newborn Trilogy (4 page)

I’m relieved to find Mom and Dad left. I knew
they would by now, of course, but there’s always that lurking worry
they may be just around the corner. They’re gone for good it seems
– for three months, anyway. Despite my wanting them to leave, my
heart twists at the thought. Three months. My stomach twists at
exactly the same time and luckily the pain distracts me from my
feelings.

I wince as I open the door to my room.

“Hi,” says a voice.

Walking inside, I see a thin girl with bobbed
hair and glasses sitting on the bed opposite mine. A MacBook Air is
open on her crossed legs. “Hi,” I say in return, smiling happily at
my new roommate. I’m glad to have a real, solid distraction from
thoughts of Gabriel for at least a few minutes.

“I’m Kiri,” says
Kiri, stretching out a hand. “Nice to meet you roomie.”

I shake her hand. It’s warm. “I’m Nora.”

I know we’ll get along great. We’re just past
introductions and I already know it. It’s my intuition, and my
intuition is usually right. Hopefully it’ll help me with Gabriel.
Shit!
I’m supposed to be taking a break from thinking about
him. So much for that…

“I was so relieved when I saw this,” Kiri
remarks, gesturing to my crate full of books. “A reader is my kind
of person, and you’ve got some good stuff here. Er – I only peeked,
I swear! Books say so much about their readers.”

“I know what you mean,” I respond. “You can
borrow any of them whenever you like. God knows I’ll be too busy
reading textbooks to get into any of them, but still. Had to bring
them. It was…” I trail off, looking for the right phrase.

“Wishful thinking,” Kiri chimes in, smiling
under her glasses.

“Yes,” I say, beaming back.

Geez, we’re already finishing each other’s
sentences.

Putting her MacBook Air aside, Kiri stands
before digging through the crate. “I saw you had…” Boy, she must
have really dug deep. But I don’t mind. I’m delighted with my new
friend. “Here it is!” she says. She pulls forth
Dinner at the
Homesick Restaurant
. “I’ve wanted to read this forever!”

“Take it,” I tell her. “It’s a really good
book. I’ve already read it, but I was thinking about reading it
again. You know, instead of studying.”

She points to the shelf above her desk where
a row of books is neatly organized. “Feel free to take any of mine.
I’m in the same boat, I’ve already read about half of them. But – I
don’t know – couldn’t be without them I guess.” She shrugs
disarmingly at me, her eyes twinkling behind glasses.

* * *

I awake the next morning to rain. I hear it
pattering lightly on the window. Blinking my sticky eyes, I turn
over in bed to face the room. Kiri is already gone, dispatched into
the new day. Panic striking me, I glance at my alarm clock before
realizing it’s not set up yet. I jump out of bed and grab my
phone

Phew! It’s only 8:07. My first class isn’t
until 10:00. Close one – well, not really. I have plenty of time.
But not enough to go back to sleep. Staring around, I realize how
little unpacking I’ve done so far.

Besides my mother making the bed and my
father setting up everything involving a plug, nothing is unpacked.
I meant to unpack last night after dinner with Gabriel, but Kiri
and I got lost in conversation until the day was done. She’s such a
cool person. We’re going to be great friends. I just know it.

Grabbing my toiletries bag, I go to the
bathroom. Once there, I can’t help but sigh into the mirror. A
train wreck is more appealing. My hair is a mess and my eyes are
too bright, looking fevered.

Gently, I put in my contacts. This is a
routine I keep every night and morning – take them out, put them
in, respectively. Keeps my eyes fresh. My contacts in, the
brightness of my eyes dimmed, I take a shower.

The hot water feels so good against my skin,
doing more to wash away the emotional mess of yesterday than
anything yet. I shampoo liberally and focus my eyes on the faucet,
letting the water fill them and clean them. For a moment my
contacts blur in the rush of water, but then resume their place so
my vision is restored.

I’m one of those girls that must hand dry
their hair after every shower. Sorry – I just am. I hate, hate,
hate
walking around with wet hair. Makes me feel cold.
Standing over the sink, I gaze at myself as I dry. Once finished, I
wrap a towel around my waist and head back into my room.

Dressing hurriedly – for now it’s just after
9:00 – I find my backpack and a few notepads. I’m almost to the
door when I realize I’ve forgotten something. Turning back, I find
a bottle of perfume. Spraying myself liberally, I breathe through
my nose. Perfect.

I’m gone.

But then I’m back.

It’s raining outside and I forgot my
umbrella. Despite my relatively early start, time is becoming of
the essence. Running down the stairs now, I push open the door and
spread the umbrella wide, just managing in time before my newly
dried hair is drenched. They should really have an awning.

Walking under my umbrella, I bring my class
schedule up on my phone. First up, English 371: Victorian Era
Literature. This should be a fun class. Lots of poems and short
stories and such. Trying to remember the right building and the
right room, I go to the dining hall for breakfast.

As though on cue, once I’m outside the dining
hall my stomach lurches painfully. So painfully I grab myself in
surprise. Without thinking I turn away. No breakfast for me this
morning. All it took was a whiff of eggs and batter for my stomach
to almost mutiny on me.

* * *

The classroom is fairly typical, with a
podium and white board at one end and a load of chairs facing them.
I’m the first one here. I stop in the doorway, staring at the
plaque beside the door. Yes, this is the right room.

My gaze falls to the many empty seats. A big
decision awaits me. Wherever I sit will not only determine where I
sit for the remainder of the term, but may determine my grade. I
read somewhere students who sit in the front get the best grades.
Those in the back? The worst. Refusing to get too hung up on this,
I choose a seat in the middle by a window overlooking a green
lawn.

Setting my umbrella on the sill, I sit down,
regretting I didn’t bring some water or tea. My body could use
fluid right now if not food. Attempting to distract myself, I gaze
into the rain. It doesn’t work. I’m brought back with a stab of
nausea in my stomach. I wonder if I should see a doctor. Maybe
somebody can prescribe me anxiety medication.

The door opens and another student walks in.
I check my watch. It’s five till. People are cutting it late. But
the stream picks up, and before long the room is filled with the
creaking sounds of furniture as people take their seats. I wonder
if I’m the only lowerclassmen here – this is a 300 level course
after all.

Finally, the door opens and a short, grey,
older gentleman walks in with a folder under his arm. He waves
somewhat awkwardly to the class at large on his way to the podium.
Once there, he looks at the class over the top of his glasses.
“No,” he says. “This – this isn’t right. Everybody up!”

Blinking in surprise, I gaze around. Everyone
is looking as surprised as I feel.

“Up, up!” the professor says. “Get all of
your chairs in a circle. Spread the flotsam to the side, there you
go now,” he adds, as one boy gets up and starts pulling his chair
to the side. “Easy does it!”

In a matter of minutes we’re all up and
replanted, this time in a circle. Leaving the podium behind, the
professor pulls up his own chair and gestures for two of the
students to spread apart. Without hesitation he takes the space
between them and sits, a smile making his lined face more so.

“That’s better,” he says. “I like this
arrangement – a circle of chairs. Seems to make students more
inclined to talk!” The class nods along with him, waiting for
what’s to come. “My name is Robert Renaus. I’m the Chair of the
English department here at Evergreen. You may call me either
Professor Renaus or Dr. Renaus. Questions?”

Silence. People are staring at him, unsure of
what to expect. Will he be tough? How much reading will he assign?
“No questions?” Dr. Renaus asks, sounding genuinely surprised. A
boy sniggers. “In that case, we’ll continue to the coursework and
syllabus.” Opening his folder, he passes a stack of papers to the
girl sitting next to him and from there it circles around. “We’ll
be studying English literature in the Victorian Era – a period
spanning the entirety of Queen Victoria’s life, roughly from 1830
to 1900.

“It was a time of tumultuous upheaval in
Europe – an old theme even then, but what’s so fascinating in the
Victorian Era wasn’t that there
was
upheaval, but that it
was upheaval brought by socioeconomics rather than warfare,” Dr.
Renaus remarks, looking around impressively. “The rise of
industrialization not only decimated the landscape, but also made
millions of people into little more than cogs in a great machine.
The suffering industrialization brought to England led to some of
the most beautiful works the English language has ever
encountered.”

For some reason I feel alright all of a
sudden, my nausea momentarily distracted. Taking out my notebook
and a pen, I lean back in my chair and wait as the stack of syllabi
makes its way to me.

* * *

The rain has stopped. I’m walking to the
dining hall, hoping this time my attempt to take in some nutrients
won’t be a complete failure. I’m wrong. No sooner do I reach the
doors than I turn back, feeling sick. The distraction of class
notwithstanding, my nausea has returned twofold. I take refuge on a
bench under a tree.

After giving some background on why the
Victorian Era was so inspiring for writers and poets, Dr. Renaus
went over the syllabi and then assigned reading. By then there
wasn’t much time left, so we were dismissed early. I almost wish
class had gone on all day. Then I wouldn’t be in so much pain. It’s
idleness that allows me to feel it.

I think of Kiri. Is she back from class yet?
Geez, she must have an early one if she was gone before I woke. But
thinking of Kiri makes me think of
him
– of Gabriel, and
with him I have no answers whatsoever. What on earth makes him so
arrogant about everything? And what is he about? He’s so different
somehow. What I really want to know is how he will find me. He said
he would – said he didn’t need a number, or didn’t have a phone.
One or the other. Or both.

Sighing, I try to distract myself from my
nausea by gazing around. This really is a beautiful campus.
Evergreen State College even has its own beach, a stretch at the
base of Puget Sound. Maybe I should go sometime.

With him
, my alter ego quips.

No
, I retort.
By myself!

Ask him out!
my alter ego
exclaims.

“No,” I say aloud, unawares.

A loud pop sounds right next to me.

“No what?” asks a voice.

I gape at him. “Gabriel! I – you!”

“Sorry,” Gabriel says, unabashed. “I do that
– make a popping noise with my lips. Done it since I was a kid.
Like this,” and he pops his lips, the sound exactly like the one I
just heard. “So
no
what?”

“Nothing,” I lie. Has he grown more beautiful
in a single day? He must have. But he’s no less ridiculous
looking.

Gabriel’s flowing black robes of yesterday
have been switched out for flowing green robes today, the color
meshing wonderfully with the blond of his hair and the white of his
smile. I gape at the Adonis before me in unrestrained appreciation.
Why the fuck weren’t boys this hot talking to me in high
school?

“Tell me,” Gabriel pushes. “I can see you’re
lying. It’s one of my pow –
skills
,” he corrects. “Telling
if people are lying or not. I’m very good at it. I want to know
what or to whom you were disagreeing with just now all by
yourself.” He gestures to the empty space surrounding us.

I sigh my surrender. “Fine,” I say, gesturing
away my dissonance. “Well, I – I couldn’t decide whether I should
allow you to take me to the beach sometime. You know, the one right
through the woods. Part of me wants to allow you to take me, but my
other half doesn’t. She’s stubborn.”

Gabriel cocks his head at me. “Is she? I’m
not worried – I’m sure I can
deal
with her.” For some
reason, he words make me want to gulp. “I may be mistaken,” he
continues, the white of his smile disarming, “did I ask you to the
beach? Because if I did I have forgotten. Or were you
assuming?”

“Assuming,” I respond, smiling back sweetly.
“It’s the place to go here, anyway – everybody goes. And besides my
roommate, you’re the only person I’ve met so far. I can’t just go
asking a stranger. So I guess I’m stuck with you,” I say, trying to
sound as forlorn and resigned as possible.

“Stuck with me,” Gabriel repeats, nodding at
the idea. “I like that. Makes me think I can get away with more.
Maybe I will.”

Oh shitballs.

“You know, Nora,” he says, “you can go alone
if you must go. I wouldn’t want my sad existence to distract from
your wonderful day.”

“That’s okay,” I respond, “I’m used to having
my day distracted.” As though on cue, a stab of nausea hits me and
I wheeze, grabbing my thin stomach.

Gabriel’s shrewd expression turns to alarm.
“Are you okay?”

I nod silently with closed eyes, a long
breath expelling from my lungs. “I think so… it’s anxiety. I didn’t
know I had it but apparently I do. Going to school, being away from
home for the first time, leaving my parents – something is causing
it. I can’t even eat. I’ve tried twice today and both times I
couldn’t.”

“You must eat, Nora,” Gabriel says sternly.
“You need nutrients to survive.”