Awakenings

A/N--and this chapter dedication goes out to anyone who has had the misfortune of being stuck on a large campus without a map and without anyone to share your pain. I have definitely been there, lol.

Chapter Two

Of Animal Lovers and Student Haters

Grateful as I was to be out of the Outfit of Death--as I have so affectionately labeled it--my new outfit still left much to be savored. Okay, it was comfortable, so thank God for that, but the problem remained that the shorts and shoes were absolutely huge. I mean, what is wrong with this kid? Is he related to Big Foot?

I know it is selfish of me to bitch about someone who was so nice to me--well, if nice is laughing at me and being unbelievably condescending--but I looked ridiculous. I was in the midst of sprinting across campus while attempting to keep a firm grip on the shorts, and clenching my toes together to try to keep the damn shoes on. Not to mention that I also had my heavy backpack slung overtop my shoulder and was unable to readjust it as it slid down my arm because my hands were already in good use.

I skidded to a stop in front of a large building. Panting heavily I saw that it was the one that I needed. Johnson Hall, yep, that was it. I looked around in relief, but my eye caught the building across the street from this one, Johansson Square. Shit, that sounded right too. Johnson, Johansson…what is up with these people? Do they not realize that closely named buildings will confuse people? Mainly people like me.

Johnson or Johansson, Johnson or Johansson? I knew I was cutting it close for time, so melting down to a childish resolve I stuck out my hand decisively. There was really only one solution to this problem…

“Eni meni miny moe, catch a tiger by his toe, if he hollers let him go, eni meni miny moe. My mother said to pick the very best one and you are it.” My finger landed on Johansson Square. “Alright then, Johansson it is.”

I sprinted across the street and into the blissfully air-conditioned Johansson Hall. Ah, the wonders of air-conditioning…this was most definitely where I was meant to be. Okay, now I needed room 321. No problem, it should be around here somewhere…except, there did not appear to be any rooms at all. Just the main entrance that I had come in…I breathed a sigh of immediate relief when I saw a girl sitting behind a counter, thank God, another human being.

“Umm, hi,” I said as I approached her. “Could you tell me where Socio--” damn. It was save-the-animals girl.

Her head snapped up, “What do you want?”

I avoided eye contact. “Sociology 101,” I mumbled.

“What was that? You should not mumble, you know, it makes it difficult to hear. I believe you said Sociology, correct?” She did not wait for a response. “Well, if that’s the case, then you are in the wrong building. Look around, this is Johansson Square, a dorm. A dorm is a place where students live; you were probably assigned a room in one--”

“I know what a dorm is!”

She smirked, “then why did you come into one looking for a classroom?”

“So I take it that Sociology is over in Johnson Hall then?”

“Good job. Someone get the girl a cookie.”

I smiled my brightest, fakest smile at her. “Thank you so very much for your help. You truly are a sweetheart.”

Without giving her time to respond back I hurried out of the building and back across the street. I could not believe that my foolproof method of picking things had failed me. I shook off my disappointment and entered the first building that I had come across. This was much better, there was an actual lecture hall on both sides of me; and one was labeled room 321. There was a God after all--

Only there was no air-conditioning. Damn, damn, damn. I knew I should have just stayed in the other building. I took a deep breath; at least I was not wearing leather. I would be fine, I could endear a few hours of heat, and then I would be able to make it back to my dorm room that, while not air-conditioned, did come with a nice rotating fan.

Feeling slightly proud of myself that I was not concentrating solely on the blistering heat, I entered the room. Only to find every single head turn and look at me upon entrance. I swallowed noticeably, that door had opened much louder than expected. You would really think with how much tuition money the school gets every year that they could spring for a quiet door.

Everyone was still looking at me…why couldn’t they just go on with class? There had to be something better to do rather than sit and look at the girl that had come late. I looked around, there seemed to be no seats. How was that possible? Surely, there must be at least one seat left…

I walked down the stairs of the room and I felt every pair of eyes follow me down. “Welcome,” a snappish voice said loudly, “to my class. If you do not mind, could you take a seat? Of course, that is, if it is not inconvenient for you. By all means, stand and disrupt my class for another five minutes.”

My face turned red as I did nothing but stand and look helplessly at the owner of the snappish voice, who happened to be a woman in her mid-thirties. The professor, I assumed. I continued to walk down the stairs; there were seriously no seats left! What did she want me to do, sit on a stair?

“I believe,” she said, making sure that everyone could hear her, “that there is a seat left down here, Miss--what is your name?”

I received a double dose of horror at that. For one thing, the seat in question was directly in front of the professor. Moreover, she wanted to know my name. My name is not exactly something that I enjoy sharing with people. The main reason for that being that my name is Jezebel. Yeah, my parents obviously have an eccentric sense of humor.

Once I was finally in the desk, I found that all her attention was still on me. I had hoped that by the time that I got there she would have forgotten that she wanted to know something about me.

“Your name,” she repeated, “if that isn’t too much trouble for you that is.”

“Jezebel,” I muttered lowly.

“What was that?”

“Jezebel,” I voiced more loudly. I heard the usual few snickers.

She smiled, but not at all in a reassuring way. “Jezebel? My, I had thought that was a joke when I got my class roisters.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not.”

“Well then, Miss Jezebel, I suggest that from now on you learn to get to my class on time.”

“Yes ma’am, I am sorry about my tardiness.”

She took an extra minute to glare at me before moving on with the lesson. The first part of the lesson consisted of telling us her class rules. Rule number one being that if you are going to be late, do not bother to show up at all. Rule two; do not turn in late assignments. Rule three, do not give excuses for missed classes or assignments, she does not care. Rule four, there is, in fact, such a thing as a dumb question; if you have one do not bother her with your stupidity by asking it. Rule five, this is not high school, she has no interest in being your friend.

I took a moment to be thankful that I had ended up with such a nice professor. I mean, it is so easy to get a mean one who will be an unbelievable bitch and go out of their way to make you feel uncomfortable to be in their class. And I knew enough about psychology and sociology already to know that sarcasm is my defense mechanism.

After finishing with her rules that were basically all the same rule worded differently (no lateness) she moved on to actual teaching. I was bummed that she already hated me; Sociology was one of the few classes that had actually sounded interesting to me when I registered.

“We will begin,” she started out, “with the development of Sociology. Firstly, I would like to see what you all know about Sociology already--though I’m sure it isn’t much.” She looked at her list of students. “Mr. Parker Holden,” a boy a few rows behind me perked up, “is Sociology a science?”

He looked nervous. “Uh…no?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Sociology is not a science.”

“Wrong, Mr. Holden.” She looked down the list once more. “Queen Jezebel,” my face immediately turned five shades of red. “Tell me what ethnocentrism is.”

My mouth hung open, that was not fair! I did not receive a yes or no question! She looked at me in superior smirking sort of way…oh, how I would love to say exactly the right thing to wipe that smirk right off her face.

Ethnocentrism, I repeated to myself. Let’s see…I just knew that I had heard that word before…but where? Just when she appeared to be ready to call me incompetent and move on it clicked for me, my uncle had called me ethnocentric just a few months ago! I knew what it meant!

“Ethnocentrism,” I said matter-of-factly, “is when one evaluates other’s cultures by the standards of their own.” I resisted the urge to add “in your face” and stick out my tongue.

Her lips pursed together and she narrowed her eyes. “And would happen if someone under this definition would enter into another culture unexpectedly?”

I smiled at her before I could help myself and I have never loved my uncle the anthropologist more than at that moment. “They would receive a culture shock.”

Without saying a word, or even nodding her head to indicate that I was right, she moved on to her next victim. I reclined back victoriously in my desk; perhaps this class would not be so horrible after all.

A/N-I am not sure if everyone is aware of whom Jezebel is, so I will not be ethnocentric and assume that everyone does. Basically--in the shortest definition possible--she is one of the most evil people in the Bible. Wicked Queen Jezebel, as she is so affectionately referred to, attempted genocide, and met her own death via being pushed out a window by one of her own servants. Dogs then ate her flesh and bones. Lovely tale, no? And I am aware it’s a horrid summary of her, so if anyone reading also feels that way, you don’t have to point it out to me, I’m well aware. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, if you would repeat that act once more I would really appreciate it!