Chapter III - Aurora
1401 Words
«Come here, sweetie,» I murmur as I pour kibble into her bowl.
Bella, our long-haired white cat, follows me around, her tail straight and flicking, her eyes fixed on the prize.
«Aurora!» Sofia's voice comes from the living room, but a moment later I hear her behind me. She peeks into the kitchen, one hand on the door jamb and the other on her hips. «If you keep feeding her every time she meows, she'll end up obese!»
«Oh, look at those sweet eyes,» I reply, bending down to stroke her back. Bella arches, her meow fading into deep purrs. «How could I say no to her?»
Sofia shakes her head and chuckles softly, then bends down to give the cat a quick scratch behind the ears. «Spoiled.»
She straightens up and looks at me. «So, are you ready?» She asks, scrutinizing me carefully.
My heart is pounding.
It's my first day at university, and excitement and anxiety are fighting to take the lead. I've prepared myself as best I can: I've already bought all the books for the first term and arranged my desk in my room with highlighters and pens of every color, sorted by shade, along with notepads and notebooks.
I thought it would help me feel ready for this moment, but no. I'm not.
As soon as I finished high school, I started teaching ballet classes to children three and older to save up some money for materials. Although, to be honest, I don't consider it a real job: I have too much fun with those little mice to call it that.
But it's also thanks to those hours spent in the studio that I'm here now.
On this private campus with its own rules: classes kick off in January, the year is divided into three terms, and each one ends with two weeks of intense exams. It's a relentless pace, designed to select and push students to their limits, so that only the true elite make it to the end.
And I intend to make it.
«Yes, I'm ready,» I say to Sofia, smoothing my skirt with the palm of my hand and trying to keep my nerves at bay. «I just hope I make a good impression on my new colleagues.»
She bursts out laughing, leaning back. «When have you ever made a bad impression?»
I roll my eyes.
Sofia has a slightly too rosy image of me: she's convinced that everyone always likes me, that I get along with everyone.
That's not true.
Sure, I love company, but there are few people with whom I feel truly myself—and she's one of them.
My passions rarely coincide with those of others. I prefer a day of volunteering to an apéritif. A dance class to a Saturday night at the disco. And this often doesn't go down well.
More than a few people have turned up their noses at me, and more than a few have ended our relationship.
So, contrary to what Sofia thinks, it's not at all obvious that I'll be able to make friends there.
In front of the mirror in the living room, I run my hand through my hair, let it fall smoothly down my back, and pull down my shirt with a quick gesture.
I take a deep breath, pick up my bag, and turn to my sister.
«Good luck,» she says with her encouraging smile and gives me a pinch on the cheek.
«Break a leg,» I reply, trying to hide my nervousness behind a half-smile.
I grab my trench coat from the coat rack, close the door, and rush down the stairs.
The cold January air hits me as soon as I step outside. I wrap my coat tightly around me, but after a few steps, when I reach the sunlit area, an unexpected warmth envelops me and the chill melts away.
I hop on the bus and immediately the smell of metal and diesel fills my lungs. I grab hold of a handrail that is still warm from the previous passenger and check my watch: perfectly on time.
Or rather, well ahead of time—two buses earlier than necessary.
But I don't know the campus, and from what I've heard, it's huge. Better to arrive too early than risk getting lost on my first day.
So I arrive very early. There's more than an hour to go before classes start, and the university is even bigger than I had imagined.
So big that it has different stops for each district. Of course, I got off at the wrong one: the physics district.
I have to cross the entire sector, and it takes me almost half an hour just to reach the medical block.
On the way, I can't resist stopping several times to look around.
It's incredible to think that I'll be spending every day here for the next six years.
The place is magnificent, a stark contrast to the dilapidated schools I was used to. The stone walls, majestic and covered with ivy, look like those of an ancient castle. But it's the gardens that take my breath away: neat paths, fountains sparkling in the sunlight, small lakes with water lilies swaying gently.
An enchanted corner, so perfect it seems unreal.
I had never dared to look at the gardens, even online, for fear of jinxing it. I was afraid of falling in love with something that might never be mine.
But now I am here, and I allow myself the luxury of savoring every detail.
The water splashing gently in the fountain, the water lilies lying still like little green mirrors, the sun filtering through the branches and warming my skin. For a moment, I feel like I belong here, as if it had always been mine.
I stand still and contemplate, lost in the rhythm of the water and the silence. But when I look up, the silence is gone: the gardens, which a moment ago seemed empty, are full of students.
It's as if time has slipped through my fingers.
Instinctively, I glance down at my watch.
I'm late.
My heart races, my calm vanishes.
There are only ten minutes left before classes start.
I hurry towards one of the entrances, clutching my bag to my side. The lobby is chaos: students running through the corridors, deafening voices, quick footsteps echoing on the floor. I slip between them, disoriented.
The classroom signs are tiny, the numbers arranged without any logic. The corridors twist and turn like a maze, the doors indistinguishable from one another, the junctions perfect copies of those I have just passed.
I look at my watch again.
Five minutes.
I rush around aimlessly, unable to find my bearings. The map they gave me at the entrance is useless: I don't even know which way to look at it.
Panic rises, gripping my stomach.
Well done, Aurora. The first day and already a disaster.
I sigh and try to follow the flow of other students, but no one seems to be heading towards my classroom.
Then, suddenly, as I turn a corner at a run, I slam my shoulder into something solid.
The impact catapults me backwards: I stagger, my shoes slip on the floor, and I fall hard to the ground.
Only then do I realize what I've hit: a protruding locker, right on the corner.
My shoulder throbs, the pain shooting up my arm, but it's the embarrassment that burns the most, rising straight to my cheeks.
I try to get back on my feet quickly, without looking around, praying that no one has seen me.
But a warm voice, very close by, immediately shatters my hopes.
«Are you okay?»
A large, steady hand reaches out to me. Heat rushes to my face as I lower my gaze.
«Yes, yes, I'm fine,» I stammer quickly, accepting the help.
Without thinking, however, I grab that hand with my sore arm, and as soon as I try to lift myself up, a sudden pain makes me wince. My grip slips, and before I can stop myself, I drag him down with me.
With a lightning-fast movement, he manages to avoid the worst: he puts one hand behind my head and spreads his legs to cushion the impact.
We find ourselves face to face, too close, in a way that can only be described as awkward.
And... goodbye dignity.
- Writer
