Page 29 of Drama Queen

About twenty minutes later, we all pile out of the train onto the underground platform at the last stop, then walk with the crowd through the station and up the stairs to street level. We cross the road when the pedestrian lights turn green and head into the CBD. We decided to catch the earlier train to give us time to enjoy our first look at the city and not have to rush.

Crossing the main road at the next lights, we wander into Rundle Mall, which is for pedestrians only, and stop at a coffee cart near the entrance. Mum, of course, orders herself a tea. I still don’t understand how she can function on one coffee a day. I order a ridiculously large double shot mocha, hoping the caffeine and sugar buzz will get me through the first classes of the day.

I missed orientation week during the move, but with maps of the campus available on my phone, and the lecture halls being so close together, I’m not too worried about getting lost on my first day. My uni has multiple campuses throughout the city, as well as in the outer suburbs, but the law campus is practically acrossthe street from Mum’s office, which is an added bonus. We’ll even be able to have lunch together once or twice a week.

We head down one of the small arcades between the mall and Grenfell Street, where we are both destined, strolling slowly past the boutique shops, and weaving our way through the patrons seated in the centre, waiting for their various café orders. Stopping at the end of the arcade, we step out of everyone’s way to get our bearings. I bring up “maps” on my phone, with Mum looking over my shoulder.

“Your building should be right there,” I say, pointing back up the street, and we both spot the unusual glass atrium at the front of her building.

“At least I have a landmark to aim for.” She smiles nervously.

“I will just follow them,” I say, pointing out the group of younger adults, all withUniversity of South Australia, School of Lawsatchels and backpacks.

Mum looks up the street towards her building and then back at me. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you? I still have plenty of time before I am due to start.”

“I think I can handle it, Mum. Besides, a wise woman once said that to be on time is to be late.”

“That damn wise woman will be the death of me,” she says with a laugh.

“I’ll message you in the breaks, and I will swing by the office to grab you when you finish work so we can catch the train home together, okay?”

“Okay, princess.”

She starts to lean in, but hesitates, glancing at another group of students passing by. Wrapping her up in a quick hug, I whisper, “I am never too old for a hug, Mum.”

I pull away and catch her soft smile before turning to head down the street, looking for the pack of students to follow again. I spot them a couple of shops up, and hurry away, but glanceback once I catch up with them. Mum is standing in the same spot, watching with worry on her face, but smiles and waves when she registers my attention.

Turning back with a small wave of my own, I trail the group as it enters an old building to the left only a few steps later. I check the signage to confirm which floor the auditoriums are on and swipe my student ID card at the elevator bay when I get to the front of the long queue.

A stack of students crowds into the elevator with me when it arrives, and they pour out like a wave when it stops on the second floor. I follow the sea of bodies through the hall, breaking off with a smaller group when we get to a set of open doors with a large “2” on top. I quickly find a chair in the middle of the curved, tiered seating, and take out my notebook and pens.

Most of the students mingle, either knowing each other from school or having met at orientation, I presume, but they rush to their seats as a smooth voice directs them to do so from the bottom of the hall a short time later. As my field of vision is cleared, my eyes widen at the young man standing at the lectern, starting up the large screens on either side. “For those who weren’t here for orientation, my name is Anders Cleave. I am an Associate with Abbott & Blair, and the teacher’s assistant for this class.”

Criminal Law 101flashes up on the screens at the front of the hall when he turns.

“If you are not here to learn about defending and prosecuting criminal offences, you are in the wrong hall,” he says, looking over the student body before him. No-one moves. “Excellent. Looks like you are either in the right place, or I have piqued your interest enough to stay and maybe consider changing your degree.” He turns to the screens with a smirk on his face.

I take a moment to enjoy the view. He looks tall, though it’s a little hard to tell with the tiered seating, and he’s impeccablydressed in black suit pants and a grey button-down shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows to reveal well-tanned arms dusted with dark hair that matches the hair on his head, which is cropped close on the back and sides, with the top left a little longer, though no less neat. His black-rimmed glasses only enhance his high cheekbones and straight nose. A strong, clean-shaven jawline just begs to be nibbled on, and he has what I think is a small cleft in his chin. I can’t tell what the colour of his eyes are from this distance, but I decide right there and then that I will happily take the whole hour watching closely to work it out. I glance around the room and notice almost every female in here has the same look of interest on her face. Not surprising. He is sinful to look at.

“Mr Blair, who is a principal at my firm, has been called to court this morning, so I will be taking you through the subject structure, your assessment calendar, and the basic housekeeping today, but he should be back for the tutorial session on Wednesday and you can all meet him then.”

I’ve never had much interest in criminal law, with my focus having always been more angled towards corporate and commercial law, but this is one of the core subjects for the double degree, meaning I have no choice in taking it.

Maybe the view will keep me interested and engaged, even if the course material doesn’t.

Six

The restof my first day is fairly uneventful. I’ve managed to find all my classes, and so far, haven’t embarrassed myself.

I snap a quick selfie in the elevator of me wearing the newSchool of Lawsatchel I picked up at the student shop on my lunch break, and send it to Mum with the caption: “First day successfully completed.” She gives me a heart reaction back almost instantly, probably waiting for my message, as she knows my schedule better than I do. She won’t finish work for at least another hour, though, so I decide to wander to Rundle Mall to kill some time before heading to her office.

Finding a small café with a free table in the back corner a short time later, I order a latte, and pull out my texts to settle in. I’m reading a fascinating case about a snail in a bottle, when my coffee arrives. I look up to thank the server, and instead find the hunky TA standing there, a second cup in his hand.

“Torts are nowhere near as exciting as criminal law,” he says, gesturing at my textbook.

They might be if my lecturer looked like you,I nearly reply.

“Do you mind if I join you? The rest of the tables are full, and I figured a fellow law lover wouldn’t mind.”

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