Page 32 of Follow My Voice
I hang up, cover my face with my hands, and squeal like a little girl. I love talking to Kang, and I worry it could be dangerous for me. The attraction I felt toward him at first was completely platonic. I only knew things about him that everyone else who listened to his show was privy to; but now I’m learning things that I’m pretty sure none of his other listeners know, and as I get to know him more, I like Kang, for real. That puts me in a very vulnerable place, and I fear I could end up getting hurt. I know I will never be able to date him, and he will eventually get tired of just talking on the phone. Anyway, he probably sees this as a friendship, nothing more, so I shouldn’t get my hopes up.
Putting my fears aside, I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.
The day has arrived. I watch from the car window as students stream onto campus. They greet each other, laugh, check their cell phones. My heart is pounding, and it feels like every part of my body is sweating profusely, so much so that I have to wipe my clammy hands on my jeans.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Kamila asks, examining my every gesture from the driver’s seat. “You know I already feel awful for not being able to pick you up today after class.”
“Don’t worry—it’s only a quick ten-minute Uber ride home. I’ll be fine.” I try to sound convincing as I take off my seatbelt and give her a hug. “I’m going to give it my best, Kami.”
She hugs me tightly. “Okay, remember you can call me if anything happens. It’s your first day. Just the fact that you’re here is major, that’s enough.”
“My goal is to attend my scheduled class, no more, no less,” I say. “I’ll do my best to achieve it.”
“I love you so much, K.” She puts a hand on my cheek, eyes red. “Now, go out there and show them what you’re made of.”
“Yes ma’am, K2.”
I get out of the car and wave goodbye as I watch Kamila drive away. I grip the straps of my backpack and spin around to take in the scene in front of me before flipping the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, covering my hair and part of my face. It’s cooler than I expected, so I hurry inside.
Everything is different from how I’d pictured it. As I walk down the main hallway, no one so much as glances at me. Some students seem too engrossed in their phones to notice anyone else; others are talking to their friends. I’m relieved to see that I’m not drawing attention to myself. However, as I enter my classroom, that relief vanishes as a group of guys sitting together chatting all turn to look at me. I try to control my breathing as I walk past them to the lastseat in the corner of the classroom. As soon as I sit down, I focus on stabilizing my breathing by doing my exercises.
The class is smaller than I expected. I guess this course is uninteresting for most students, but, for me, a course on mental health and wellness seems more than perfect for my first class. Kamila objected, of course, because she thinks school should distract me from my problems, not draw me deeper into them, but Ms. Romes, the counselor, recommended the course and said thinking about these issues might be helpful for me. Besides, I’m curious to know what the other students think about mental health.
From my seat in the back of the room, I assess all the other students. There’s a group of four girls, all very pretty, talking animatedly. Two guys sit close together, laughing at something on one of their phones. A couple older women stick together toward the back of the classroom. Close to them is a dark-haired girl sitting alone, reading a book, and behind her, a lovely girl with plump cheeks and wavy hair.
My breathing has normalized. I feel safe in this corner, like I have some shield around me and no one can hurt me. But I realize I spoke too soon when the next students enter the room.
A freckled, red-haired girl enters, chewing gum; she glances at me before taking her seat without a word. After the small classroom is almost filled up, a tall redheaded boy enters with a huge smile. “I have arrived, princesses!” he says to the group of pretty girls.
They laugh and joke back and forth with him for a moment. And then the boy notices me, and I curl up like a snail under my shell. He has beautiful hazel eyes, but the curiosity I see in them frightens me. “Oh, wow, someone new! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he says in a joking tone as he starts walking toward me.
Stay away.
“Good morning.” The professor enters, saving me.
The redheaded guy turns around to walk back to his seat.
As I sit in class, paying attention to the lecture, I take a momentto appreciate how much this means to me. I’m in a classroom, surrounded by people I don’t know.
This is the first step, Klara. See? It’s not so bad.
I take it all in and allow myself to savor this feeling. The world looks a little less scary right now, and as I watch the other students take notes, I realize that maybe I can do this.
The class goes by faster than I expect as the professor lectures the entire time with little to no input required from the students. I’m thankful there’s no pairing up in groups, because I don’t feel ready for that kind of interaction yet.
Class ends and I’m gathering my things when a screeching sound comes out of the PA system and a voice emerges from the speaker hanging on the wall in the corner of the classroom. “Good morning, Durham Community College.”
I stop breathing.
“Welcome to the third week of another great semester.”
Kang.
It’s Kang.
I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“This is Kang from W-DCC, the Durham Community College station. I’m here to remind everyone that you can tune in to listen to us on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at seven o’clock, when we’ll have news of the week and discussions on important topics that affect us as well as our campus. Happy start of the week and go Panthers!”
