Page 15 of Lucky Sucker

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School started on the Tuesday, and I’d been awake for three hours already. There was no rest for the anxious. I’d showered, dressed, and packed my messenger bag with everything I’d need. My first class was at 11 with Dr. Evelyn Hart, she was my creative writing teacher, the first module was on literary monsters, which I wasn’t too excited about because the last thing I wanted was nightmares, but I was assured it wouldn’t be quite so intense.

I couldn’t escape to the back of the class for her, she employed a model UN system of seating where everyone was in a circle and since the class was small, I couldn’t sit behind anyone. Everyone was looking at everyone, practically staring into their souls.

One of the good things about this class was that I wasn’t going to be glared at by Sophia. I bet she only wanted my assignment so she could get good intel for her fantasy league team. It was just one of the benefits for me. The most important part of the assignment for me was how close it made me feel to my dad, and he must’ve helped me get it.

“Wren Duffy,” Dr. Evelyn said, reading from a list.

“Yep,” I said.

“What comes to your mind when I sat literary monsters?” she asked.

“Frankenstein.”

She hummed. “Ange just said that. But let’s be mindful that it wasn’t Frankenstein who was the monster, it washismonster.”

“Well, Frankenstein made the monster, so I think he could definitely be considered a monster too,” I said, immediately wishing I’d stayed quiet.

“If that’s the case, do you believe the author, Mary Shelley to also be a monster?” she asked. “Considering she wrote the man who made the monster.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

A couple people around me chuckled, so I’d said something right, or wrong.

“While that isn’t what we’re here to talk about in this class, it is an interesting discussion topic,” Dr. Evelyn said with a big smile beaming right at me. “Can you think of another literary monsters?”

On the spot, I didn’t know anything right now. After a couple of false starts, I came out with. “Dracula.”

“Another good example,” she said, going along to the next person.

“Pennywise, obviously,” they said.

“The entire Cullen family from the Twilight saga,” another answered, followed by more laughter.

I wondered about monsters, and all I could conjure was Sully from Monsters Inc. at least I wouldn’t mind if I saw a big bear of a man hiding under my bed. I would prefer it.

The class was an introduction before we were assigned to define monster and the elements that go into crafting a monster that’s capable of scaring its readers. I didn’t really want to create a monster like some of the others were already talking about, it was already far too monstrous in the world, but I was a creative, and I could figure out a way to make it my own thing.

After the class, I walked from the humanities building, once more contemplating buying a bicycle given the thought of potentially walking home rather than spend hours on campus between classes getting nothing done.

“You headed to the ice?” Luke’s voice caught me from behind. He planted a hand on my shoulder, his big hands were so firm. I tried not to droop once side of my body under the tingle of pressure.

“No, no, I was just—”

“Come on,” he said. “Unless you’ve got another class to get to.”

“I need to grab lunch,” I said, despite already packing a sandwich and a juice box in my bag.

“Ok, well, eat something, then come over to the rink so I can get you on the ice,” he said. “You said you wanted to, right?”

Not technically. “I thought Tuesday’s the rink was reserved the women’s team.”

“Yeah, but during lunch it’s open,” he said.

I gnawed on my bottom lip. My next class wasn’t until three, it was my first journalism class of the semester, and it looked like it was going to be text heavy given that it was on media theory. I knew I needed to be having fun and enjoying my time, but I also needed to be alone and go over everything that had happened during the day already. I needed to nitpick at what had happened in the creative writing class and whether people were laughing at me, or with me.

“Come on,” he said. “And you can interview me.”

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