I really didn't want to come to class.
I had taken three tramadols (not all at once!), and I was feeling the effects.
However, I had spent most of the day in the computer lab next to the library, and thought it would be a waste not to go to Engl 201A after waiting around for so long.
I walk into the room and the only people there are the English instructor and my grumpy, older classmate who sits next to me.
They're talking to each other. From the smiles on their faces, they must be getting along swimmingly.
I'm thinking, just get through this. It's only for a little while.
I hear my name, and look up. I only catch every other word of his.
"Just to give you a head's up, we're covering that journal topic that you didn't like last semester," the English instructor tells me. "You're welcome to write about something else."
"Are you kidding me?" Is an involuntary response coming out of my mouth.
"No," the English instructor replies, looking at me. "We're doing the 'alligator river story.' "
I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I immediately assumed he was talking about that ridiculous article on the boy with bipolar disorder. I was not in the mood to get into a fight over it, although nights while I'm waiting to go to sleep, I often rehearse in my mind what I would say if he did decide to post that news piece on the projector. How would I react? I don't like the 'alligator river story' either because the other students tend to demonize the woman who traded sex with a man for a ride on a boat.
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