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my tank top to cover up my bruises. I did not need people staring, thinking I was a freak on my first day of school. I completed the look with a pair of small studded, red quartz earrings which I found in an antique shop with my Mom. My flip-flops clapped loudly on the tile floor as I ran out the door with my backpack in tow.
    It was a ten minute walk to reach the building where my first class, Music Appreciation, was held. I had to pick up the pace. I was shy with new people, and I would die of embarrassment if I was the last one there. The thought of all those eyes on me, staring, gave my stomach a flip. I pulled my hair up into a messy ball on top of my head with an elastic band taken from my wrist as I power walked, navigating the street sidewalks.
    Earlier in the summer I had visited with my parents so I could walk the routes to my classes. The campus had school buildings scattered all over the downtown area. I wanted a chance to memorize the lay of the land.
    With my poor sense of direction, without that trip I would already be lost, missing my first-ever college class. I felt much more comfortable in this big city when I knew where I was going. Arriving at the building, I flew through the front doors taking the steps two at a time up to the third floor. I stood in front of the door marked 313 and hesitantly turned the large brass knob.
    When I walked in the door I clutched onto my backpack, like it was a life vest saving me from drowning. I was careful to look straight ahead, acutely aware of the fact that simultaneously a hundred pairs of eyes from the left of the room shot in my direction. Crap! I should not have bothered to wear blush. I knew my cheeks had turned beet red, now matching my t-shirt.
    Not only was everyone staring at me, the tardy student, but this classroom was set up in levels, in a sharp inclined theatre-style over my left shoulder, making me center stage. What was I thinking wearing red. I should have worn gray to blend in with the room. I might as well have strapped on a target for school today.
    The female professor, who looked to be in her early forties, was standing behind a muted gray desk in front of the expansive chalk board that lined the wall opposite the students, who were, by the way, still staring at ME! Thankfully she gave me a sympathetic smile.
    “Welcome, we were just about to begin roll call. Please find an open seat.” She gestured her hand toward the students, and I set my eyes on the floor, nodding obediently.
    I lifted my eyes reluctantly as I climbed the levels, trying to find a spot. The room was not very big compared to the massive lecture halls in other buildings, but I was feeling anxious, and I felt eyes burning through me as I scanned the room. I struggled to find an empty chair. The class seemed to be full from end to end.
    As I walked up the steps scanning the aisles, the knot tightened in my already twisted stomach. If I had to call out to the teacher in front of everyone that I could not find a seat, the heat from their stares would surely burn me to ashes from the inside out.
    I slowly turned to the front to face the professor. My tongue felt dry in my mouth. I swallowed hard, and just as I was about to cave, I heard someone from behind.
    “Psst. Psst.” It was a low tone, but it caught my attention enough to look back. In the very last row on the back wall, an extremely good looking guy was discreetly waving me over. He looked as though he had all the time in the world to get ready this morning.
    A bashful smile spread over my face, and once again I bowed my head down concentrating on the steps. If I tripped on the stairs in front of all these peers, at that point, I would have no choice but to drop the class.
    When I reached the top row, he was sitting in the aisle seat with his backpack occupying the chair next to him. Keeping his attention forward, he picked up the backpack as he moved into its place and gestured his hand to take his aisle seat.
    I realized I