Chapter Two

Math was Hell. And not as in the phrase “hard as hell.” Literally, math had to be Hell. Titania was sure that if the Almighty didn’t deem her worthy enough to step through the Pearly Gates, then He would most certainly send her to a classroom filed with nothing but math work. And to compensate for the whole “fire and brimstone” thing, the furnace would simply be turned all the way up.

Mrs. Jackson had insisted that they use the last fifteen minutes in class--after they had finished with the syllabus--to begin the lesson. By the time class was over, she had gone through only enough material to assign five problems. But because it was the dreaded math class and because Titania was attending said class, those five problems did get assigned. At 9:15 a.m., the class, as a whole, stood, gathered their books, and left. Titania had hoped to beat Odin out the door and thus disappear; however, that was not the case.

She had exited the door with her ever-annoying ex at her heels. He picked up his step so that he could walk shoulder to shoulder with her.

“So, what have you been up to? Did you get my email?” Odin asked, shoving his books under his left arm.

“Yeah, I got it,” Titania replied with a small smile.

“And?”

She let out a long sigh as they exited the math and science building and headed toward the English and history building. The email in question had been the sixth in a series of heartfelt confessions of his undying love for her. He was always so convinced that she was still in love with him. He seemed to always forget that it had been she that had broken up with him.

She stopped in the lobby of the English/history building and turned to him.

“Look, Odin, I said we would still be friends. But I’m afraid that our relationship other that that is over,” she said as gently as possible.

“Oh.” he said. However, by the determined look in his eye, she might as well have not spoken at all. “Okay. So, uh, do you have Mr. Columbus for history now?”

“Nope. I have Mr. Speare for literature,” she replied, silently thanking God as she did.

“Oh, well, then. I’ll see you later?”

“Sure.”

Not giving him anymore time to reply, she turned and climbed the stairs to her class.

Titania had been settled in for four minutes, twenty seconds, and counting. She had her literature book, a notebook, and a pen--which she had made sure worked five times now--out. She had even entered into polite conversation with the young woman in front of her as to why the teacher might be late. She had chosen the second seat in the row closest to the podium. She gave a slight smile as she thought back to her high school teachers telling the class about how good seating in a college class was important.

“The five minute rule!” someone in the back shouted. “He’s got fifteen seconds to go!”

Titania tapped her pen against her desk, remembering lightly both her parents and Aida telling her of the rule. If the college teacher did not hold a doctorate--and Mister Speare didn’t--they could be late for class up until five minutes passed, and then the class could leave. And if the teacher held a doctorate, the rule was extended to ten minutes.

With five seconds left to go and a few students in the back ready to charge out the door, Mr. Speare entered the room. Titania raised an eyebrow, for he was not what she had expected. He was younger than she had supposed--only about twenty-five or six--and he was wearing a sheepish, almost embarrassed look on his face. He came to a stop behind the podium and set down the grade book, literature book, and pens he had been carrying.

“Sorry about that,” he said, grinning apologetically and adjusting his rather large, dull-gold rimmed glasses. “I usually never push the five minute rule to the brink like that. However, I thank you all for respecting it. Now, I’ll call roll, and then I’ll pass out the syllabus.”

He flipped open the grade book and picked up a pen. The young woman in front of Titania turned to the woman on her right. Smiling, she mouthed, “He’s hot!”

This was quite true. Titania had expected him to look like an old librarian, but he was anything but. The large glasses looked quite good on him and fit his small, oval-shaped face perfectly. Behind the not-as-thick-as-you-might-think lenses, his eyes were a misty blue. His skin was olive and unblemished, and his hair was a light brown.

“Gloria Evers?” Mr. Speare called.

“Here!” replied a girl in the back.

“Titania Fae?”

“Here,” she replied, jolting back to reality.

She looked up at him and saw his eyebrow lift. He quickly found her face in the crowd.

“Miss Fae, are you named after the Shakespearean play A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” he asked.

A few people, who apparently hadn’t been paying any attention at first, tittered.

She blushed. “Yes, I-I am.”

The reaction she got from Mr. Speare was--just as he had been--not what she expected.

“Ah, it’s so nice to meet someone named after something to do with the Bard. You’ll notice on my syllabus when I pass it out that I have my name written as William S. Speare,” he said, pausing for a reaction. Then, he smiled, “Guess what the “S” stands for?”

“’Shake’?” Titania asked incredulously.

Mr. Speare nodded, and the class laughed. Titania smiled, feeling suddenly better about her name. After a few minutes more of the joyful racket, he raised his hands and told them to quiet down. Then, he finished the roll and passed out the syllabus, winking at Titania as he passed her.

She left literature with a “goodbye” to Mr. Speare, a smile on her face, and no homework. With an extra bounce in her step, she made her way back to the Student Union Building, where she spied Aida sitting with her lunch. Titania dropped her backpack in the seat across from her friend and took the one that was closer.

“Twelve already?” she asked, snatching a French fry.

Aida smiled. “No, just got to eat early. By the way, you look quite a sight happier than when I last left you. What’s up? Literature class fun?”

“Yeah, actually. I found someone with a name as strange as ours! Mr. Speare.”

“What’s so weird about that?”

“His name is William S. Speare. William Shake Speare!”

Aida had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from spewing her drink. Swallowing it down and wiping her hand on a napkin, she asked, “Really?”

Titania nodded. Then, after the humor had passed, she asked, “So…how was chemistry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aida replied, shoving a bit of chicken finger into her mouth.

“Oh, come on. It can’t b as bad as math was.”

“Betcha ten.”

“Betcha twenty. Odin’s in my math class.”

“We didn’t shake on it!” Aida protested as Titania lazily held out her hand for her prize. “Anyway, how was he? Still convinced that you love him?”

“Will it ever end?”

At that, Aida’s watch intoned an annoying beeping noise. She hit a button on it to end it.

“Sadly, this conversation has, my friend. I’ve got my math class to attend. I’ll call you tonight, ’kay?”

Titania nodded and watched as her friend scrambled together her things and left. Finally, she stood and headed for the next destination on her agenda. The Financial Aid office. Then, only then, would she have another reprieve. Drama, the source of her scholarship.

If math was Hell, then the Financial Aid office ran a close second. Even though there were no students other than herself there, Titania still got caught there for thirty minutes filling out tedious paperwork for work study. Not only that, the woman attending her was caught somewhere in the middle of hatred and apathy for her job.

Titania finished the final piece of paperwork, shoved it at the woman, gave her only moments to approve or disapprove it, and then bustled off to drama. The Financial Aid office was a few yards away from the auditorium--where drama was--so she had to bustle as fast as she could. With five minutes to spare, Titania made it to class, and even got a good seat.

Unlike Mr. Speare, her drama teacher, Ms. Sophy Antigone, was early. However, just like her literature teacher, Ms. Antigone was not as she had suspected. Her black hair, presumably long, was tied into a loose bun, offset from the top of her head, and in it were pencils and pens of all colors. She wore a loose fitting, button up shirt that had a white and orange squares separated by thick black lines pattern to it. The top two buttons were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. She wore a simple pair of blue jeans with paint splatters on them.

She smiled at her class, her brown eyes bright with excitement. She scratched lightly at one side of her face and left a paint mark there when her hand pulled away.

Without a word, she grabbed the stack of syllabi and began passing them out. When she had finished, she returned to the front of the class and said, loudly, “I’m Miss Sophy Antigone, your drama teacher this evening. Now, let us begin our syllabus, our gateway to…drama!”