As usual, she watched the other students pull out notebooks and laptops to take notes for the day, but Evelynn left her bag closed on the floor. She’d been up late the night before reading, and she didn’t feel much like paying attention this early on a Monday even in her favorite subject. Evelynn instead positioned herself to where she could see out the window. It was a cloudy August day, but warm, so birds were visible flying from tree to tree and hopping through the small patches of grass that hadn’t been trampled by the return of students to campus. Since it was an early class, there were only the few stragglers outside, hurrying to make it to class without being too late. Little outside truly interested Evelynn, so she turned her attention back inside the classroom she was trapped in for the next hour.
The professor was just beginning his lecture for the hour and asked the class to turn to page forty-six in their textbooks where he would be referencing a chart throughout the class period. For lack of anything better to do, Evelynn pulled out her textbook and flipped to the page. Not that she was really focusing on the class, but she was momentarily distracted by shuffling to her right. The desk that had sat empty for a week straight was now occupied, but it wasn’t the sandy haired boy Evelynn was hoping for. Instead it was a tall, broad shouldered boy with a shaved head—probably a football player or some other brainless athlete, she assumed. He whispered hurried apologies to the general area where he was seated and took out his own textbook. He began to open it but stopped when he realized he didn’t have a clue what page to turn to. Evelynn watched him glance around to see who he could ask without disturbing them much more. Seeing her looking at him, the boy quietly inquired of her, “Do you know what page we’re on?”
Evelynn checked her own book then passed along the page number quickly. He thanked her, turned to page forty-six and was soon lost in focus on the lecture of the day. Evelynn was having trouble staying engaged in the professor’s topic, and she’d exhausted her options of people to watch for the next forty minutes. In a brief moment of inspiration, Evelynn pulled out her notebook from her backpack on the floor beside her. This was the first time she was opening it since the semester started and it wasn’t for notes today either. She remembered the blonde boy’s words from the past week: “It’s just my thoughts.” She wasn’t sure where to begin, but maybe just writing down her thoughts would help to pass the time. She
took a blue pen, clicked it open, and began to write.
The professor was just beginning his lecture for the hour and asked the class to turn to page forty-six in their textbooks where he would be referencing a chart throughout the class period. For lack of anything better to do, Evelynn pulled out her textbook and flipped to the page. Not that she was really focusing on the class, but she was momentarily distracted by shuffling to her right. The desk that had sat empty for a week straight was now occupied, but it wasn’t the sandy haired boy Evelynn was hoping for. Instead it was a tall, broad shouldered boy with a shaved head—probably a football player or some other brainless athlete, she assumed. He whispered hurried apologies to the general area where he was seated and took out his own textbook. He began to open it but stopped when he realized he didn’t have a clue what page to turn to. Evelynn watched him glance around to see who he could ask without disturbing them much more. Seeing her looking at him, the boy quietly inquired of her, “Do you know what page we’re on?”
Evelynn checked her own book then passed along the page number quickly. He thanked her, turned to page forty-six and was soon lost in focus on the lecture of the day. Evelynn was having trouble staying engaged in the professor’s topic, and she’d exhausted her options of people to watch for the next forty minutes. In a brief moment of inspiration, Evelynn pulled out her notebook from her backpack on the floor beside her. This was the first time she was opening it since the semester started and it wasn’t for notes today either. She remembered the blonde boy’s words from the past week: “It’s just my thoughts.” She wasn’t sure where to begin, but maybe just writing down her thoughts would help to pass the time. She
took a blue pen, clicked it open, and began to write.
