Next Life

A soft guitar strums, growing louder each time it plays. I know this tune. It's my alarm clock! I open my eyes and this looks right. This is my room.

"That was the longest dream ever!" I yawn while stretching in bed.

Leaping to the floor, I face the mirror. There's my long brown hair, a wavy mess from the tossing and turning no doubt. After brushing my teeth, I pick out my favorite denim button dress and search for my camel boots. I'm giddy this morning and I can't quite figure it out. Dreams don't leave lasting impressions like this, but I'll most likely forget about it by noon.

"I can't believe it," my voice pitches as I get dressed. "It's going to be so different and then next year, I'll be the college student."

I know, right?! Just one more year of high school halls and I'm free!

I grab my brown messenger bag and run down the stairs. There's subtle rattle going on in the kitchen where I find mom emptying the dishwasher.

" Beverly, don't forget to call your uncle and thank him for the favor," she says as she serves a bowl of cereal.

"Don't worry, I'm going to call him when I get out of class."

Remind me what class this is again?

"Are you nervous? It's not like high school, they don't talk in class. They take things seriously."

"Since when have I been called to the principal's office for being a chatty mouth? Never. Besides, I'm lucky enough to be auditing this class, I'm not going to screw it up."

"I know, I know. I've never had to worry about you. . . Will you arrive in time?"

"Yeah, it's right after my lunch period, then I'm free till swim practice at four."

I'm gobbling down spoonfuls of Special K as I stare at the clock above the fridge. I gotta go!

"By mom, I'll tell you all about it tonight!"

Hopping in my white Jeep, I drive off with haste. The music and wind feels amazing. I remember how real these sensations felt in my dream, it's hard to distinguish them from reality.
I skip up the steps to my school. Familiar faces pass me in the halls and I smile and wave to many. It's like déjà vu.

I quickly pinch myself to see my skin redden along with the sharp sting. It feels the same as before. But this is real! This morning I woke up! The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. There's no other conclusion than it being a bizarre coincidence.

I make it through the rest of day and sprint to the parking lot twenty minutes after the lunch bell. Driving another fifteen, I finally reach the university with no idea where I'm going. I pull out a folded sheet of paper from my bag and read room B24. A few minutes early, I camouflage with the rest of the college students and take a seat in the middle rows.

Reading the rest of the sheet, it states I'm to present my notes taken in this course at the end of each month to Mr. Fetters, my history teacher. The amphitheater classroom fills up fast. Mom was right, they don't seem like the talkative crowd.

I write the date again on a fresh page when I hear the door shut for the last time followed by shoes clacking across the floor. The echo demands everyone's attention, including mine. Then my grip weakens.

"Good afternoon, I'm Professor Hartwell. I hope everyone's lunch was satisfactory," he smiles, places his black laptop case on the desk and gracefully spins around. " Welcome! To Art History 1. To start things off, I've put together a fun little slideshow for you to enjoy as we begin this intro to the Ancient and Middle ages. Lights please!"

My world is flipped upside down, my stomach inside out. I hear the sound of his voice explain each image but I'm too distracted to understand what he's actually saying.

Snap out of it! You were excited about this class long before he showed up!

Then the realization comes full circle. While my thoughts remain preoccupied by the minor detail of our professor, my hand has been busy taking notes since the beginning. I look down to find a list of dates, names and titles. Does this feel any different than when I remain trapped inside those other women? Even now being my own body?!

The light switches back on and brings clarity to the situation. I'm going to sit this one out and allow Beverly to prove to me why this class is so important. Why are we here?

"Because of him," she-I whisper.

Accepting the obvious clue, I resume watch on every move the professor makes. There's no way he'll notice me. Not with all these students, pretty girls. I'm not even eighteen yet, need I remind myself.

"Yeah, ridiculous," I conclude.

Back to him. His wavy hair brushes above his shoulders when he turns his head from the screen to the audience. I catch myself smiling unknowingly, listening as he paces around the floor, projecting his voice clear for those in the back. He uses his hands a lot, especially when emphasizing important facts. I notice him scan each row of students, like one reading a book. He started from the top left and if my assumptions are correct, he should be approaching my row soon.

I guessed it! His eyes leap from each face to my right but my body isn't aware of this yet. Stuck in a daze, I'm holding the pen to my mouth, tracing my bottom lip with the cap. He's still looking at me. He should have reached the beginning of the next row by now. I freeze when the eye contact becomes evident. His mouth curves as he continues his short lecture and finally looks on. My body reacts, heart racing and cheeks growing warmer.

"Alright, with the time that remains, I want you to get well acquainted with your syllabus. On the second page, you must select an artist from the list provided and prepare a five minute presentation by next week, Friday. . . For those of you who don't have a syllabus yet, you can find them on my desk. Come and get one don't be shy, I won't bite."

I like him. Looking around, it appears I'm not the only one without a syllabus. I make my way to the end of the line. It moves pretty quick and luckily I'm still the last one. Here goes! I reach for the pile before looking up to give him a thank you smile, but he's already grinning.

"Does it taste good?"

"Hmm?" I'm confused.

"Your pen," he smiles wider.

"Ohh," I chuckle nervously but have no answer.

"I'm just teasing. Read up!"

"I will."

Returning to my seat, my cheeks must match my pink nails. I skim through the list and can't decide between two painters when I look up. A pair of green eyes stare back at me from above his laptop. Once caught, Professor Hartwell looks back down and shakes his head as he continues to smile.

Notes

Finally moving along. Whatcha think so far?