Free My Sweetest Escape by Chelsea M. Cameron Page A

do you have?”
    “English.”
    “Me, too.”
    Jesus, if he and I were in the same class,
    that would just suck beyond suckage.
    He must have seen the horror on my
    face. I hadn’t really tried to hide it.
    “Just messing with you, Red. I have calc.
    Would being in the same class with me be
    that bad?”
    I didn’t answer as we crossed the road
    and I saw a building with the words Neville
    Hall on it. I could have found it if I’d looked,
    but then I probably would have been late.
    He held the door for me and a few
    people coming in behind me.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    We paused in the lobby.
    “I’m on the second floor,” he said,
    pointing toward the stairs.
    “I’m on the third.”
    We walked up two flights and he gave
    me that little two-fingered wave again.

    “See you later, Red.”
    “’Bye.”
    I joined a few other people and plodded
    my way up to the third floor.
    I hadn’t fulfilled my English
    requirements yet, so I was stuck taking
    Creative Writing. When I walked in, there
    were only about ten other people there.
    That did not bode well for being able to
    hide and listen to music. Great. I found a
    seat in the back and close to the door and
    looked around. I felt pretty young; most of
    the people looked like they were quite a bit
    older than me.
    I’d gotten a decent grade in my English
    comp class at UNH, but only because I’d
    been one of the few students who turned in
    assignments. I liked to read, but writing
    those insipid papers where you had to
    analyze what some dude who had died
    hundreds of years ago had meant by writing
    about rain or some such crap was pretty
    much the worst thing ever.
    Luckily, the more you seemed to
    bullshit, the better grade you got. Maybe I
    could do the same in this class.
    A few more people trickled in until there
    were fifteen of us. The professor was the
    last one there, and he was everything a
    teacher of English should be. He even had a
    tweed jacket with those weird elbow
    patches and horn-rimmed glasses.
    He called attendance and when he got
    to my name he asked me what I wanted to
    be called. I went with Jos again as he
    introduced himself as Greg and explained
    how the class would go. I’d skimmed the
    syllabus, but hadn’t really paid attention to
    it. As he explained what we’d be doing, my
    heart sank. We’d have to write something
    every week, and during at least one class
    period a week. And we had to read what
    we’d written. Out loud. And, if that wasn’t
    enough, he’d make copies of what we’d
    written and we’d all have a class discussion.
    Welcome to your nightmare, Jos Archer.
    Once again, since I was new, I didn’t
    have to do much, but this was going to be
    another class in which I was required to
    participate, even if I didn’t want to. At least
    half of the class looked like they’d rather be
    getting a lobotomy than be there, so at
    least I was in good company.
    I suffered my way through and then I
    was finally done with classes for the day. I
    scurried away from Neville Hall as fast as I
    could before I could bump into Dusty again,
    and checked my phone. There were several
    missed texts from Renee, asking how
    classes were going, and one from my
    mother and another from Darah that was
    just a smiley face.
    I could have gone back to the house, but
    I wanted to savor this time I had without
    anyone watching my every move. It wasn’t
    too cold, so I did a walk around campus,
    finding the rest of my classes for the next
    day and watching the other students go
    about their lives, wondering what it was like
    to be them.
    When my legs started to get numb,
    despite the walking, I went back to my car.
    My instructions were to go right home, but I
    didn’t. I’d been dying to go to Bull Moose in
    Bangor, so I headed toward the mall. Bull
    Moose was pretty much the best music
    store in all of New England. I’d discovered
    them when I went to UNH and I was over
    the moon when I realized there was one
    close to UMaine.

    It took