The Greeks

            Gwen ran a hand through her hair, not caring if she messed up her brown locks. She was frustrated as she looked down at the article she was trying to write. As editor of the student paper at UGA, she thought that writing articles would have come much easier when she took the senior position at the school’s paper.
 
            It was a simple topic. Gwen had opted to cover one of her writers who was sick and conducted interviews regarding the schools conversion to being a completely smoke-free campus. She had all of her notes organized in neat, clear handwriting. She highlighted things that she thought were important, and she had several quotes that she could use.
 
            And yet, Gwen was more focused on wondering if her check for her water bill was going to go through than she was concerned on what the student body thought about taking out the smoking areas on campus.
 
Looking at the clock on the wall, Gwen sighed. She needed to finish this article and despite her concentration issues, she knew that she could do it. Taking a sip of her coffee, Gwen tapped the pen and circled a quote to use.

It was late in the afternoon on a Monday, not exactly the best time for motivation. But setting her mind to the task at hand, Gwen managed to write out the rest of the article. She set it aside and saved it to be edited by multiple content editors and to be looked at for final markups.

Turning off the desktop that Gwen used in her small office at for the paper, she shoved folders in her purse and stood up. Outside of her office, there were a few other students walking around or sitting at small cubicles working on articles and columns. Gwen was the only one lucky enough to get her own office.

Pausing to glance over a headline one of the writers were doing, Gwen looked at her watch again. She was supposed to be meeting a girl by the name of Mason Matthews to go over a few marketing sections to put in the paper. Gwen was vaguely aware of who Mason was, but had never met her before.

Hurrying out of the office, Gwen dug for her keys in her bag. The Red & Black was not designated on campus, since it was a privately operated media outlet. It had been that way for years, with The Red & Black paying for it’s own things separate from the school. Yet, they still provided the school and community with the paper.

Gwen’s faithful, mint green truck was parked behind the brick building. For such an old model, the Ford still looked great. Gwen slid onto the leather seat in the cab, slamming the door shut and sticking her keys into the ignition and biting her lip as she turned the keys. As beautiful as her truck was, sometimes the engine gave her a world of trouble. Thankfully, the car was on her side that day and it started with no problem.

Gwen pulled out onto Baxter street and started making her way towards campus while Halsey played in her car. She had gotten the cassette tape that was attached to an auxilerey cord, unable to find many cassette tapes to listen to music in her car. The only thing to listen to on the radio in Athens, Georgia was country and hard rap.

Campus was busy even for a Monday afternoon. Finding parking was moderately difficult, and Gwen found herself rushing along the walkways on campus, clutching her bag to her to prevent it from bouncing wildly against her body.

Entering the coffee shop, she got into the line, looking around the tables. As usual, the baristas were buzzing about behind the counter, yelling orders and trying to get them done. Multiple people were at the tables filling the coffee shop with books, laptops and notebooks. Gwen wasn’t entirely sure who she was looking for.

In the corner of the Starbucks, Gwen saw a small hand shoot up. The girl she was looking at wasn’t quite what Gwen expected. She was sitting extremely straight and sipping a coffee delicately, her brown hairbrush neatly out of her face. Gwen felt relieved before stepping up to the register to order a coffee.

Thankfully, Gwen’s younger brother had given her a gift card as a thank you for helping him write one of his essays for school. She was incredibly grateful that he had scrounged up enough money to get her a gift card. Typically she tried to keep to drinking the bitter and gritty coffee at The Red & Black.

When she picked up her latte, she looked at her name and frowned. Instead of writing Gwen on her cup, they had written Glenn. Did they really think that she looked like a Glenn? She thought about the ridiculous error as she smiled politely at Mason, who stood and offered a delicate hand to Gwen.

“Mason Matthews,” she introduced. Gwen shook her hand and sat down, setting her bag on the ground. “I recognized you from your article on hazing.”

When Mason reached for her coffee, Gwen saw it. The Greek letters that pronounced she was in a sorority. For a second, Gwen hesitated. She knew Mason Matthews was the president of something, but now she realized what. “Oh.”

“I agreed with it completely. These southern schools are obsessed with hazing and call it tradition.” Mason rolled her eyes. “It’s obscene.”

“You’re not from here. You have a subtle accent.”

“New York, actually. From the sound of that elegant southern lilt, I’d say you’re from somewhere around here.”

Gwen grinned. “Savannah, Georgia. Born and raised.”

“Do you like living in the south? Since you at least, stayed close to home.”

It was a hard question. Gwen loved living in Georgia, but she didn’t know any different. She hadn’t traveled to many different places, and when she was picking places to go to school, she wanted to go anywhere that got her the most scholarships. That ended up being the University of Georgia.

So it wasn’t that Gwen didn’t like living in the south. She liked to stand under the shade of the pines, and smell cederwood burning in bonfires. She love picking honey suckle from the trees and tasting them on her tongue. And she loved living close to her family, who meant everything to her.

But Gwen was acutely more in the world that she hadn’t experienced.

“I think maybe it’s a place of habit, but I love it here. They say there’s no place like home, right?”

Mason smiled. Gwen thought she was beautiful, with delicate features and light, brown eyes. “That’s what I’ve heard. So, about these marketing adds. I know you guys are funded solely on advertising charges.” Gwen nodded. “I actually intern for HW Creative Marketing and we wanted to start paying to have small ads in your paper.”

Gwen watched as Mason reached into her designer bag and pulled out an envelop. She handed it over to Gwen, her manicured nails catching the light. Gwen tried not to look at her own bitten-down nails with chipped nail polish. Lifting the top of the envelope, Gwen saw a check inside and nearly reeled at the number on it.

“That’s a lot of money for an ad, to be honest with you.” It wasn’t that they couldn’t use the money, but Gwen was too honest to let someone be overcharged. It was in her nature. “I don’t think we need that much at all.”

“It’s also part donation.” Mason smiled and reached for her phone, momentarily looking at her screen. When she set it back down on the table, Gwen caught sight of how many messages she had. Gwen’s had none, which made her surprisingly feel lonely. “I know how hard you guys work on the paper, and like I said. I liked your article. I convinced my boss it was worth it.”

“I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“You can be my friend. I’m very much in love with that outfit your wearing and you ordered a latte, which means you must be the kind of person I genuinely enjoy being around.” Gwen smiled at Mason. “Plus, it’s not often I meet someone who is genuinely nice and also not in a sorority.”

“There are plenty of nice people not in sororities.”

“Just not many people nice in them.” Mason looked at the watch on her wrist. “I unfortunately have to leave, but maybe we can hang out one day. You can tell me where you got that shirt and how on earth you get your eyelashes to look like that.”