Winter Wakes

History of Theatre hadn’t been so bad, I decided. My professor made it worth while for the most part. He was an older man, one of the first things I noticed about him was the fact his glasses reminded me of Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles. But he in no way resembled the willowy wizard. Dr. Davis was a very round man, with a mild case of Asperger’s syndrome and a bow tie. Unlike most old men he wasn’t balding, although his eyes were exceptionally droopy. Either way the lecture was humorous and easy to take notes from.

My classmates themselves weren’t quite what I’d expected either. I’d walked in to find one guy; I think his name was Clarence, dancing to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies,” to which he had the video for playing on the projector. I was mildly impressed to note most of his steps were dead on. Multiple times Dr. Davis would throw a witty if not amusing comment out about my colorful classmate. I can’t forget the sarcastic Australian who sat in the back corner, his name was Ronald. He threw just as many insults in Clarence’s direction as the professor did. For the most part, my other classmates were fiery as well, but not quite on the same level as those three. I sat silently at the back of the room, only noticed when Professor Davis felt the need to point me out as “Fresh Meat.” I’d blushed a little while the class had chuckled.

After a presentation on how goat worshipers way back in the day had somehow stuck their foot in the theatre scene, we’d been released from class early. Well, they had.
Davis kept me back to inform me where I could find the notes the class had already been given.

I pulled out my schedule to see when my next class was and what it may have been; I’d looked it over many times already but it never seemed to stick. A smile pulled at the corners of my lips as I looked down at the crumpled sheet; Women’s Studies in an hour. Talk about what I assumed to be a pleasantly easy filler class. Looks like I had an hour to wander around and get acquainted with this place, though. Of course the freezing weather outside brought to light how very unpleasant that really would be.

“Hey, you’re that new girl, right?”

I stopped near the doors at the sound of the pretty southern voice from behind me. Turning I found a girl sitting on one of the couches with our theatre book open in her lap. She was small, maybe a little taller than I was, I think, with extremely blonde highlighted hair that went just past her shoulders, and heavily lined green eyes.

“Yeah. You’re in my theatre class, aren’t you?” I think I remembered the back of her head from one of the seats in the front row.

“Uh huh. I’m Katie Thompson. The old nutcase never said your name, so I don’t know what to call you,” She smiled. Potential friend; can’t say that upset me.

“I heard that, Katie,” Said ‘nutcase’ stated as he walked behind the couch she was seated at. I tried not to laugh at his hat; it reminded me of those 1950’s detective shows.

“I love you Dr. Davis,” She replied looking over the back of the couch.

He shook his head as he continued walking, “You better be glad I absolutely adore that accent of yours, Ms. Thompson. I won’t deduct points, this time. Just don’t scare away my new student.”

“Quick question Dr. Davis,” I blurted. He turned, eyeing me over the top of his glasses. “Did you steal that had from the set of Martin Kane, Private Eye, or what?”

He and Katie both stared at me, I felt my cheeks flush. God. Why had I said that? Davis then let out a chuckle, his entire (large) body shaking with it.

“It’s nice to see you know a sitcom from the good old days that doesn’t include I Love Lucy or I Dream of Genie, Ms. Walton. I may look forward to your input in class now,” He stated before turning his back to us again. “Have a good day, you two. And don’t do anything ridiculously stupid like most of your classmates.”

I watched his figure as he turned down a hall, finally looking back down at Katie. She smiled and shrugged.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart. That ain’t nothin.’ One time he—“ She cut herself off. “What did you say your name was?”

I hadn’t.

“I’m Maggie.”

“Cute outfit by the way. I just love those boots and that hat.”

I was beginning to wonder if the girl had ADD or something. But, she was making it fairly easy to talk and she seemed pretty nice. People didn’t approach me too often, but I wasn’t going to shoot them down when they did.

I smiled, “Thanks. You have no idea how big of a pain in the ass it was for me to try to find a pair that fit though.”

“Oh my god, girl,” She let out a moan dropping her head back against the couch. “I totally do. What size do you wear?”

I looked down at my boots, as if I was uncertain of what size they were. Of course I knew so I don’t know why I acted like that, “Um, 5 ½.”

“Are you serious?” She piped. “Me too!”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah, girl!” Katie smiled, revealing a small gap in between her two front teeth. All the same, she was still a very pretty girl. I could only smile back. Her happiness was the contagious kind. She appeared to be the epitome of the happy-go-lucky country girl, except minus the clueless factor. If she was here, I didn’t doubt for a second she was intelligent.

“Hey, um, Katie? Do you know where the Women’s Studies classrooms are?” I inquired. May as well ask her, she seemed kind enough to help a lost soul.

“When do you have it?”

I shrugged, “In an hour or so.”

“With Dr. Cross?”

“Yeah,” I glanced over at her curiously. “Why?”

“Psh. Don’t worry about asking for directions. You can just walk with me since I’ve got that class too,” She replied, looking back down at her book. Damn. That was a lucky break.

“Thanks,” I breathed, walking over to collapse next to her on the couch.

“Kinda funny though,” She murmured.

I looked over at her, “Huh?”

“Your schedule’s the same as…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. Nevermind.”

We sat in silence for a minute, me waiting in some vain hope she’d continue that statement. What had I been hoping she’d say after hearing that? Maybe Simon Dreyton’s name. But He and I had already established his major wasn’t theatre. A vain hope indeed.

Nothing much else was said for the 45 minutes we sat there, aside from the typical conversation about majors. She was a Psychology major; Intro. To Theatre was just a filler class she needed. Although some kind of clouded curiosity washed over her as I admitted to majoring in Theatre. She blew it off by saying I just didn’t seem like the Theatre type.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, Women’s Studies was easier than I expected with a very young, very outspoken professor. Then there was my acting class right after. I’ll say now: That didn’t end well. Firstly, I was nervous, but much to my delight Dr. Davis was also my teacher for that. Apparently my comment about his hat had set me in good standings with him, so I wasn’t completely screwed. He took pity on me and offered to assist me after class sometimes if need be. Of course I took that offer.

I was done for the day by two, trudging unhappily out to my car. My last class had put a damper on my mood. At first glance, the sight of Simon leaning against my car nearly brought me a sense of relief; it was a familiar face in a sea of strange ones. That left as soon as I was close enough to read the expression plastered on said face. Quite simply, it was almost enough to make me turn tail, and run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I had a feeling things would only be worse if I did that though.

I bit the bullet and stepped up to my car, sticking the keys in the door, “Simon.”

“Maggie,” He replied coldly. My teeth bit down on my lip as I climbed in the driver’s seat, he was already behind me.

“Bad day?” I offered.

Simon sighed heavily, “None of your concern.”

Of course. It never was.

“Make any friends? Or in your case, make any enemies, Magnolia, dear?” I could hear the sneer in his voice.

I started my car, pulling out of the parking lot and towards the campus exit. I’d realized by now he wouldn’t risk physical harm while I was driving.

“Actually, jackass,” I shot. “I did make a friend.”

“Really now? Did this ‘friend’ have a name, or are they just a figment of your imagination?”

“I doubt you’d know her. She’s much too nice to associate with a dick like yourself. But anyways, her name is Katie Thompson and she wears the same shoe size as I do.”

“The little blonde girl from Tennessee?” Was that fascination in his tone? Shit, maybe he did know her.

“Yeah. That one,” I replied with disappointment.

He was oddly quiet behind me. I was tempted to turn around to see if he was even there, but I opted for adjusting my rearview mirror. Yes, the dead boy was still there, staring intently at the floor.

He finally spoke, “Good. That’s very good. I can’t believe it’s her of all people but still.”

“Simon, what are you talking about?”

He didn’t reply for a minute, I debated once again if I was pushing the limits.

“She can get you into some pretty good parties, is all,” He replied nonchalantly.

Parties. Really now? This situation was becoming more and more incomprehensible to me. I shook my head as I drove towards my house.

“You just made this entire situation about a thousand times more confusing, you know,” I stated. “Normal people don’t go to Ivy League schools for the parties, Simon.”

“And what about this situation is normal?”

I paused, “Absolutely nothing.”