Mr. Blake greeted the class and then sat on the edge of his desk.
“A lot of journalism is about perception,” he said.
I noticed everyone was busily typing on their laptops and iPads so I dutifully pulled my iPad out – even though I didn’t think Professor Blake had said anything profound yet.
“This isn’t the same news era that your parents grew up in and it’s especially not the same era of news reporting that your grandparents grew up in,” he continued.
“What do you mean?” One of the students in the back row – a girl – was trying to act like she was studiously involved in the lecture for Professor Blake’s benefit.
“I mean, when your parents and grandparents were younger, the news business was different. News has changed – and I think the biggest change is that a lot of people look at news for its entertainment value,” he said.
“Can you be more specific?” The same girl. She was going to be annoying.
“News broadcasts used to be just about the news. A straight-up rundown of the facts,” he said. “Now, though, you have personalities that slant the news – and it’s not just one news organization. You have news being slanted on both the left and the right – but neither is ultimately fair,” Professor Blake glanced at me for a second, but luckily his gaze didn’t linger.
“The advent of the Internet has also radically changed how we report the news,” he continued. “These are the days when everyone has a blog and some people actually think that a blog purports truth.”
“They don’t?” At least another student asked the question this time.
“I’m not saying that they all don’t. I’m saying, though, that blogs are not always researched properly,” he said. “Most of the time, in fact, they’re just opinions. Like movie reviews.”
Professor Blake got up and started pacing back and forth at the front of the room. “Let’s try a little experiment shall we?”
Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to the class. “How many people here believe in ghosts?”
That’s a weird question for a journalism class, I thought. I looked around the room and saw more than half of the hands shoot up. Good grief.
“Good. Put your hands down. Now how many people believe in vampires?”
The same people’s hands shot up. I noticed Professor Blake’s eyes rest on me for a second. It didn’t propel me to raise my hand, even though I’d noticed that Matilda had raised her hand to both questions.
“Okay,” he continued. “If Matilda here writes a blog and says that vampires are real, is that news?”
“It depends,” I muttered.
“Did you have something to add, Zoe?”
Crap, he’d heard me. I cleared my throat. “I said, that depends.” I was never one to shy away from a debate – even if it was about vampires.
“What does it depend on?”
“Whether or not these vampires sparkle.” That got a chuckle from everyone in the room except Professor Blake.
“Is it news?” he pressed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no proof that vampires exist and you can’t print something as truth without proof.”
“What if you have proof?”
“Like what? A big pile of dust?”
“What if you capture a vampire?”
“I think if someone caught a vampire then reporters from CNN and ABC would be handling the story – not Journalism 101 students.”
Professor Blake frowned at my flippancy. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and met his gaze evenly. I was not going to back down. I didn’t care if I failed.
Professor Blake broke from the staring contest first and then turned back to the class. “Is Zoe right?”
Matilda decided now was the right time to jump in. “If I see a vampire, though, and report on my experience that’s okay, right? I can even talk to it?”
“What, like Interview with a Vampire?” My patience was running thin.
“Maybe,” Matilda rolled her eyes at me. I noticed a few people around us giving me dirty looks. I had no idea how I had become the bad guy in this scenario.
“If you did get an interview, what would you ask? What’s your favorite blood type?”
Matilda looked slightly distressed. “You don’t have to mock me.”
“I’m not mocking you.” I was totally mocking her. “I just want to see things from your point of view.”
“I’ve seen things,” Matilda announced.
“Really? What things?”
“I saw a vampire when I was 16. He was hanging outside of a movie theater.”
“Doing what?”
“Trolling for victims.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I saw him sniff the air and follow a girl.”
“Did you call the police?”
“And tell them I think I saw a vampire? No, they’d think I was crazy.” I knew she was crazy.
“No, did you call the police and tell them there was some strange guy sniffing teenage girls outside the movie theater and following them?”
“Of course not.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Matilda decided to change the subject.
“I’ve also seen ghosts.”
“Oh yeah? Did they wear sheets?”
“No, my grandma came to me in my dreams the night she died and told me that she’d always love me, but she had to go.”
“How do you know she was a ghost and not an angel?”
“I … I just know all right.”
The room was quiet for a minute as Professor Blake looked around expectantly.
“You’ve seen a werewolf!” Matilda had jumped to her feet to exclaim this little gem.
“I have not.”
“Yes you have,” she pointed at me. “That’s what that whole Dog Man thing is supposed to be.”
“First of all, the Dog Man is supposed to be Bigfoot, not a werewolf, and I never said I saw him. I said that was a local legend. I think that’s as much crap as this other stuff.”
All the while Matilda and I had been arguing, Professor Blake had been watching me silently. I could feel the confusion – and a certain degree of disappointment – rolling off of him.
I couldn’t believe this conversation was actually going on. I also couldn’t believe he was letting it go on.
Professor Blake cleared his throat loudly and stepped between Matilda and me. I think he was worried there might be bloodshed – or at least some vigorous hair-pulling.
“Let’s call it a day everyone,” he said. “For your homework, I want you to try and prove that vampires exist in a news article.” He turned to me as he gave the assignment. He was challenging me to protest. I figured I might as well not leave him disappointed.
“We’re supposed to prove that vampires exist?”
Professor Blake nodded at me silently. The rest of the class, I noticed, had started talking excitedly to one another as they packed their belongings.
I grabbed my book bag sullenly. I should have left the classroom without saying another word. I didn’t, though.
“So, we can use Twilight as source material I guess?” With that parting shot, I flounced out of the room.
Eleven
Despite the unnerving Journalism 101 debacle, I found myself settling into my class schedule pretty easily.
On Thursday, I hadn’t had one moment of discomfort. I also hadn’t heard from Will – and I’d be damned if I’d call him first.
After classes, I went down to dinner with Paris. We sat with Brittany and Tara – but there was clearly a delineating line being formed in the room. No one was openly hostile to one another – but there was a general sense of unease permeating the atmosphere roiling around the four of us.
Brittany and Tara spent hours each night doing homework. The only homework assignment I had so far was proving vampires existed.
After dinner, Paris and I decided to go to the library to
do some research. I had decided to turn my assignment into the joke I knew it was and get quotes from a variety of different vampire books. I could have done it on the Internet, but I was eager to get away from Tara and Brittany.
Unfortunately, Tara and Brittany decided they wanted to check out the library, too. I figured I couldn’t get out of it now without looking like a total bitch so I decided to just go with the flow. I could tell Paris was equally agitated by the situation, though.
The sun was close to setting as we left. The days would get shorter and shorter now and soon the sun wouldn’t rise until almost 8 a.m. and it would set around 5 p.m. I hated those days – but I couldn’t do anything about it until I could afford to move out of Michigan.
The chatter on the way to the library was uninspired – to say the least. Brittany couldn’t stop gushing about the fountain of knowledge she was dipping her toe into each day. Tara was equally expressive about her thirst for knowledge – although something rang false in her declarations. I was convinced she was just trying to impress Brittany – although I couldn’t figure out why.
Paris and I discussed the state of the Friday the 13th franchise. What? It was as good a topic as anything else.
“I liked the remake,” she said.
“Good grief. That was awful.”
“Those ones from the 80s are so cheesy, though.”
“At least they were scary. The new one was an insult. Why would Jason have a pot field?”
“Maybe he likes to mellow out after a kill. Wouldn’t you?”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
When we got to the library, Brittany turned to us expectantly.
“What?”
“We have to go to the fourth floor.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where the serious studying goes on.”
“Who told you that?”
“It’s common knowledge.”
“From who?”
Brittany shook her head tersely. “Everyone knows that.”
Paris stepped between us quickly. “Why don’t you and Tara go up to the fourth floor? Zoe and I will meet you up there when we find the reference books we need.”
Brittany nodded happily. She clearly had no idea that Paris and I would never make it to the fourth floor – which was apparently full of law books and students that were in desperate need of some sunshine.
Tara and Brittany toted their heavy book bags onto the elevator and waved as the door closed.
“I’m not going to the fourth floor.”
“We’ll say we couldn’t find them,” Paris answered smoothly.
“Maybe they’ll get lost up there forever?” There was a hopeful note in my voice.
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
Bummer.
Paris and I loitered around the bottom floor of the library for a while. I selected four vampire books and copied enough quotes to bluff my way through the assignment. Paris leafed through the magazine selection.
When I was done, I turned to her expectantly. “You have anything else you need to do here?”
“No. Why don’t we go to the UC for coffee?”
I didn’t drink coffee – unless it was half milk and chocolate -- but I agreed to go and wait for Paris outside. No one should be walking alone after dark anyway.
Paris promised she wouldn’t take too long and dashed inside the building. I didn’t get her coffee excitement – but I was glad she was happy.
I amused myself by walking up and down the sidewalk for a few minutes – all the while trying to avoid the multitude of cracks that marred the cement surface. I wasn’t going to take any chances with my mom’s back.
After the turn on one trek, I slammed into a dark figure that had been following behind me.
The figure grabbed me to keep me from toppling backwards.
“Sorry,” I sputtered. “I didn’t hear you behind me.”
I looked up to find myself staring into the chocolate eyes of Rafael – the dark and mysterious stranger from Mike’s party almost a full week before.
“What are you doing here?” I’d asked the question before I thought about the intelligence associated with asking it.
Rafael raised his eyebrows briefly as he took in my flustered state. I saw a smile quirk at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t let it take up residence. He lifted up his own cup of coffee, tilting it slightly in case I was blind. “Getting coffee.”
I didn’t know how to proceed, so I just stood there lamely and looked at him. He looked as good as I remembered. His hair was ridiculously glossy and the moonlight bounced off it like he was a Bond girl or something.
“Why are you out here alone?” I’d watched him scan the area quickly.
“I’m waiting for my roommate.”
“Where is she?”
“Inside getting coffee.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“I didn’t want any coffee.”
“Still … .” Rafael pursed his lips undecidedly. Whatever war his mind was waging, he must have picked a side. “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”
I didn’t want to tell him I wasn’t exactly worried about being jumped. I didn’t think he’d get it.
“I’m fine.”
“Bad things happen on college campuses,” he reprimanded me. “Especially this campus. You’re not infallible.”
“What do you mean bad things? What bad things?”
My question seemed to take him by surprise. “Nothing. I just mean bad things could happen.”
“That’s not what you said, though.”
“It’s what I meant,” he practically hissed at me.
“Well, I guess that it is good I’m not your concern then.”
Rafael still looked skeptical.
“You can go now.” I actually made little shooing motions with my hand. God, I probably was coming across as deranged to him.
“I think I’ll wait.”
“For what?”
“For your roommate to get back.”
“I’m fine.”
“Then we’ll be fine together.”
I gave him my harshest PMS look, but he still didn’t back down. I chewed on my lower lip as I regarded him. God, he was so good looking. Too bad he was such a freak.
“So … .” I was looking for something to talk about. Anything.
“So?” Rafael seemed amused by my discomfort.
“What’s your major?” I figured the dumbest conversation ever deserved the dumbest question ever.
Rafael actually let the smile reach his entire face this time. It made him even better looking. He had a dimple in his tan cheeks that was simply spectacular.
“Business.”
Hmm.
“What’s yours?”
“Probably journalism.”
Rafael seemed surprised by my answer. “With Professor Blake?”
“God, no, not with him. He’s the one making me doubt my choice.”
“Why?” Rafael’s question seemed pointed.
“He’s just a freak.”
Rafael seemed like he wanted to press the issue, but Paris picked that moment to reappear with a coffee in hand. She regarded Rafael with her wide eyes and then smiled warmly at him.
“Hello.”
Rafael greeted her back pleasantly. I was surprised he had it in him. Then he launched into an irritating diatribe about women being alone on campus after dark. What a sexist.
“That’s definitely something to think about,” Paris admitted.
I glared at her. Traitor.
“Well, it is,” she said. “You and I are both from small towns. We don’t know the dangers out there.”
I wanted to smack her – especially when I saw Rafael smiling triumphantly at me. Now I wanted to smack him. I wanted to wipe those dimples right off his face – and then kiss him until they reappeared.
“We’ll be going now,” I grabbed Paris’ arm and started to steer her toward the side
walk that would lead us back to the dorm. She stopped, though, and looked at it worriedly.
“What?” Could this night get any more exasperating?
“The path is so dark,” she murmured.
I shot a death glare in Rafael’s direction. He seemed amused.
“I’ll walk you home,” he offered.
“That’s really not necessary,” I argued.
“I insist.”
Paris turned and grabbed my arm harshly. “If he wants to do it, we should let him.”
Crap.
She smiled as Rafael sidled in between us and turned his attention toward her.
“After all, you can never be too careful.”
I fell into step behind the two of them. I guess I was wrong. The night actually got worse.
Twelve
When I set up my classes, I was hoping to avoid Fridays. Unfortunately, what they don’t tell you when you’re registering is that freshmen get last choice in the class department. Unfortunately, I ended up with three Friday classes.
Luckily for me, I breezed through all of the classes that first week – even the increasingly uncomfortable Journalism 101 with Professor Blake. I even managed to avoid eye contact with him throughout the entire class – even when I handed in my vampire piece – which took on such a sarcastic tone in the final version that I was sure I would get a failing grade on it.
When I returned to the dorm, I found Tara and Brittany excitedly chatting about going to Will’s fraternity party that night.
I hadn’t heard from Will since our blow-up about the mud fight. I wasn’t as keen about going to the frat party – but we’d all agreed to go together earlier in the week and I wasn’t sure I would be able to gracefully back out of the event. Especially since Will only invited everyone because of me.
“These are exactly the kinds of guys I’m looking for,” Brittany told Tara conspiratorially.
“What do you mean?” How Tara could listen to her drivel was beyond me.
“Everyone knows the guys in this frat are from good families, families that have money. These guys are going places.”
Brittany’s outlook on life was seriously warped, I decided. “Really? Will’s family doesn’t have a lot of money.” For some reason, I was ready to fight with Brittany constantly these days.
Witchy Dreams Page 110
