Status: active :)

Bay Boy


"Milena? Wow, that really sounds Russian. So you're Russian?" I rolled my different colored eyes and nodded. "I was born in Moscow. My dad's kind of Russian, his great-grandparents moved to America from Saint Petersburg, and my mom was born and raised in Moscow. So, Jordan. Y'know, for a Canadian you have a pretty American name." Jordan scoffed and shook his head with great vigor. " I'm Canadian through and through. I'm Thunder Bay born and bred."
"Thunder Bay? Where's that?" Jordan scrunched up his face. "You've never heard of the Bay?! It's in Ontario." I nodded. "Well this was fun, minus the nosebleed, but I gotta get to class." I started to walk away when Jordan grabbed my arm. "I feel bad for making your nose bleed, can I make it up to you?" I folded my arms across my chest, I was already fifteen minutes late to class. "What? You don't have to. It's fine, honestly." His baby blue eyes looked right into mine. "But I want to. Stop by will call at Bell Centre at around four, okay? I'll have two tickets to the Habs-Pens game waiting. What's your last name?" I was a huge hockey fan but I knew that tickets to the game tonight would be incredibly expensive and almost impossible to get. I didn't want Jordan to go to that kind of trouble for me. "Narkov. But really, you don't have to." Jordan just shook his head. "Bell Centre at four, okay? Don't forget!" As if I would.

I quickly walked into class, sat down in the back and felt at least twenty pairs of eyes on me. Fuck. I hated being noticed. At lest the professor was too busy lecturing to have noticed my late arrival. I pulled out a notebook and began to write furiously. Molecular biology, like all other sciences besides physics, came easily to me and made sense. My love for science, as well as my desire to help people, was why I was in med school. My goal was to one day be an ER doctor. I was only I'm my second year of med school, far from seeing any action in a hospital, but I was determined and I had a near perfect GPA. It was also my duty to make my mother proud. She was gone and I owed it to her to reach my full potential. Mam was also the reason I had lived with Dad while I was at Georgetown and why I had transferred to McGill so I could keep living with Dad. Mam had passed away when I was only twelve and though it had been nine years I could tell Dad had still not fully recovered. They fought bitterly sometimes but they were meant for each other and overall their marriage had been great. I wasn't sure dad would ever revert to the Dad I had grown up with, the joyful, kind father I had loved as a child. Mam's death seemed to have permanently changed him. Dad and I had become closer in recent years, he had been touched when I'd turned down a scholarship to Brown to go to Georgetown and stay with him. Brown hadn't even been an option for me, I was Dad's only child and he couldn't lose me, not after what had happened to Mam. So when he had gotten the McGill job I had transferred. I had had a full scholarship to Georgetown, each year Georgetown awarded a full merit scholarship to one of their employee's children and I had gotten it. However, when Dad had taken the McGill job my scholarship was gone as Dad no longer worked at Georgetown and I was no longer an employee's child. Normally I would have been angry at anyone who stood between my education and I but I could not be mad at my father. Besides, McGill had a pretty good medical program. He had been so emotionally empty since Mam's passing and I couldn't deny him the happiness the McGill job brought him. He probably needed to get out of D.C, the city where he and Mam had lived, the house where they had spent their lives together. And McGill was still a good school. Maybe their medical program wasn't as good as Georgetown's but they sure were a lot more affordable. Dad had a good salary but I was still a broke college student and without a scholarship there was no way I could afford Georgetown. After forty five minutes the professor dismissed the class and I went to the bus stop for my first ever ride on a Canadian public bus.

The bus wasn't too bad actually and I made a little before two, in time for a late lunch. I made myself a turkey sandwich and a simple mixed greens salad. Then I showered and quickly towel dried my hair. Unlike most girls my age I didn't own a blow dryer, hair straightener nor hair curler. I toweled myself off and changed into light blue skinny jeans and a white cable knit pullover. My hair was only lightly damp now so I ran a comb through it and put it in a high ponytail. Last but not least I applied a coat of Burt's Bee's honey lip balm, the kind I'd been using since I was thirteen. I never did anything to my eyes, they stood out without makeup. One was a deep brown, Dad's eye color, and the other was a light blue, Mom's eye color. Dad was at work still so I left him a note telling him where I'd be and grabbed my trusty leather messenger bag, the one Dad had gotten me when I'd started my sophomore year of college at Georgetown. I walked out into the cool Montreal air and headed for Bell Centre.
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