I take a shower without eating anything first. I've just completed 100 minutes straight of intensetraining on the eliptical machine, and no matter how sweaty I am, I refuse to use the gym shower.
While drying myself with a towel, I consider walking to Burkeley for lunch and some afternoon studying accompanied by coffee and tea. If it weren't so cold outside and my hair was dry I'd do this. But I don't use blowdryers. Instead, I bring one of the books assigned to us in the Women in America class and head downstairs to the Wilburn caf.
The school recently renovated Burkley's caf and so the food is actually good. I'd say it's restaurant quality. The Wilburn caf, the hall in which the gods have graced me into, has the same caf from what looks to come out of the 70s. You could seriously film a scenes to a movie set in the 70s or 80s in here and it would pass.
The food here tastes like the place looks. It reminds me of the food my high school cafeteria served. Today it's cheesy potatoes and some other gross concoction of steamed vegetables and saucey meat. Instead, I go over to the salad bar and make myself a vegetarian salad, and I have a bowl of plain oatmeal that I slice bananas into.
The final things I place on the tray are two ceramic mugs. One for coffee and the other for black tea. I turn around and scan the caf for the most sparsely populated areas; far from large packs of boys who might be howling about their party plans for the weekend and far from groups of girls complaining about boys. Luckily, Friday afternoons are quiet at Wilburn. Everyone must be spending their freetime elsewhere, and I don't blame them.
When I learned that it was quite normal not to have Friday classes I was shocked. This was last semester when I did have a Friday class -- an introductory language course that met four early-mornings a week. One Friday, an upperclassmen looked rougher than usual and I had said hello to him and joked such. This was back before I formed an aversion to talking to and being nice to guys. He had mentioned that he was hungover. I had remarked how surprised I was that he drank so much on a Thursday night. He then looked out the window smiling and said, "see how so many people are walking around without a backpack?" I nodded. "They're the ones who don't have Friday classes."
I was very stupid back then.
I feel how wet my hair is--there's still about an hour left until I can walk outside-- and then open my book.
About 20 minutes in, a girl approaches timidly, but with a smile, holding her tray. I think I know her.
"Hi. Talia right?"
"I'm Sara. I think we've met but not properly introduced."
"Oh yes. I remember. You and Moriah are friends."
"Mind if I sit next to you? Or are you busy studying?"
"No. I needed a break anyways." I sigh dramatically
"Don't we all?" Sara smirks. She has a plate filled with the main entrees: cheesy potatoes and saucy meat. And for her drink, it looks like Powerade sports drink.
"What class is that for?" she points her eyes to my book.
"Women in America."
"Oh! That sounds really interesting."
"It's a WRA."
"That sounds way better than my WRA. I picked Science and Technology for mine."
"I'm an engineering student so I decided on something outfield for my WRA. Otherwise I'd be stuck in a whirlpool of science and technology. And boring men."
Sara laughs at this so much that she has to cover her mouth. We talk about our majors and how we ended up at Shook University. After a few minutes of this she asks me what the book's about.
"It's about passing. Like back when America was really racist, some African American women who were light enough would choose to pass as a white woman."