The question nagged at Isabelle. Logging onto Facebook one morning she sighed morosely. She hadn’t bothered unfriending either Nick or Gina and both their pages were full of fun pictures with their new mates. A few of the girls from school had pages that were similar – countless images of parties and campus life clogged their timelines.
The realisation came to Isabella gradually. She had thought her friends from school were mad to sign up for years more study when they could be earning money and doing what they liked on the weekends. But she had missed the bigger picture – she hadn’t considered the fun factor of student life. It was only now after being stuck in the most un-fun workplace imaginable that she finally got it.
TAFE was an option but the idea didn’t overly appeal, mainly because it would seem like she was copying Nick and Gina. Nick’s comments still stung and she didn’t want to appear to be following his advice.
No, it had to be something bigger and better – like university.
Amid all the daydreams about hanging out on campus and partying on the weekends Isabelle had to keep reminding herself of two key problems – firstly her abysmal school results and secondly the reality she would have to actually study even if she did get in. She had literally never studied in her life.
She was having a pedicure one day when the idea came to her. Why couldn’t she just unofficially go to uni? It wasn’t like school where you had to go to homeroom and have the roll marked after all. Who would actually know she wasn’t an enrolled student? Her winnings would provide an income while she embraced the student lifestyle (and all its advantages) without the work.
She had ignored the signs when Nick and Gina had their epiphany but the universe had given her a second chance, she decided gleefully. And unlike them she would barely have to lift a finger!
Buoyed by her brainwave Isabelle cut short her pedicure, so she could head home and start researching the lifestyle of a pseudo student.
* * * * *
Isabelle was amazed at how her family took the news at face value. Nobody asked to see her acceptance papers, even though she had created a genuine looking set on her computer. Nobody questioned why any self-respecting university would admit her with such poor school results, believing Isabelle’s story that life experience was taken into consideration.
When it came to choosing which university to attend, Isabelle knew it would have to be the University of Queensland. With its prestigious reputation, large enrolment (to allow her to blend in), huge range of courses and the fact it was a beautiful campus to boot, it ticked all the boxes.
As the academic year drew closer, Isabelle attended open days and free lectures to familiarise herself with the university scene. Inventing a scholarship to explain her ability to support herself, Isabelle found herself a unit to rent in Toowong, much nicer than the average student could afford.
Shopping for her new life proved to be a lot of fun. A desk and a laptop were necessities, as was a cool backpack. Isabelle adjusted her wardrobe to trendy yet scruffy. This proved to be more expensive than she had imagined, but in the end she looked the part and that was all that mattered.
The most difficult thing was gaining a student card. Fortunately she had thought ahead and found herself a decent forger on the internet. Isabelle was amazed – and quite disturbed – at the array of false IDs readily available. But, as she kept reminding herself, she wasn’t hurting anybody by her actions. She had no intention of pretending to be a doctor, for example, just a nice, general arts student. Obviously her card was useless for anything official but it would suffice for her needs.
Although very nervous on the first day of O-week, Isabelle soon realised that everybody assumed she was entitled to be there. Nobody asked for her enrolment papers as she attended talks and workshops.
‘Gosh this is all so exciting isn’t it?’ a frizzy haired teenager seated beside Isabelle exclaimed as they awaited an official “welcome to campus” speech.
‘Yeah, it is,’ she agreed.
‘I must admit I’m a bit scared though. I mean, I’m from a tiny town nobody has heard of and I’m living with my great auntie way over in Chermside. What if I don’t make any friends?’
‘Don’t think like that – surely amidst these thousands of people you’ll connect with somebody. Hey, you just did. I’m Isabelle and I’m looking for some new friends too. And I live really close.’
‘Saskia,’ the young woman replied. ‘I’m SO pleased to meet you.’
‘Likewise. Now let’s listen to this speech, then get out there and become uni students.’
Taking the smorgasbord approach, Isabelle attended about twenty lectures in the first week before honing in on the four subjects she liked most. Unfettered by pre-requisites or other such details, she only chose subjects that interested her and those with a large enrolment so she could remain anonymous.
Despite the fact Isabelle was a few years older than Saskia and more worldly, the pair soon formed a close, genuine friendship. Although she cultivated several casual friendships in her own subjects, Isabelle was glad that Saskia was studying Business. This allowed her to hone in on Saskia’s new friends and make them hers too without being closely scrutinised about her studies. She joined some clubs as well to cast her friendship net as far as possible.
As she had anticipated, living so close to campus helped cement Isabelle’s unit as a social hub. Far from being annoyed when friends dropped in to hang out or needed a place to crash after a night out, Isabelle loved it. Having no actual uni work to complete, Isabelle’s evenings and weekends were free for as much partying as she liked. And party she did – determined to make up for lost time.
* * * * *
The semester moved along much faster than Isabelle had anticipated. Thirteen weeks sounded so distant at the beginning, but now it was almost at an end. Isabelle observed the shift from the cruisey first weeks to the more frantic pace of assessment deadlines. Lecturers became less forgiving and their expectations of their students increased. People started looking serious and determined, the study carrels in the library became a hot destination and stress hung in the air – an almost tangible weight upon the shoulders of every student.
Every student except for Isabelle, as she experienced none of this stress, although her unit showed evidence of it. Piles of textbooks and papers were scattered across her desk, along with photocopies of journal articles. A semester planner was affixed to her wall with assessment dates duly entered.
It was the last week of semester when the journalist approached Isabelle as she walked along Fred Schonell Drive. Feeling at a bit of a loose end because nobody had time to pop around and hang out, she had headed out to uni hoping to bump into somebody and maybe grab a coffee.
‘Excuse me miss, are you a student here?’ the young woman asked.
‘Uh, yes I am,’ Isabelle replied. Even after a semester she still hesitated when directly asked that question. Fortunately it didn’t happen very often because as long as you were on campus people just assumed you had the right to be there.
‘Great!’ the young woman enthused. ‘My name is Alison and I’m a journalist at The Courier Mail. I’m writing a feature article for education week and I’d love to interview you if you’ve got time.’
‘Um, sure. But why me? I’m sure there’s heaps of other more talented students with a more interesting back story than me.’
‘No, it’s not about that. I’m a real believer in seizing the moment and I’ve just got a great feeling about you.’
Stretched for time due to another assignment taking much longer than planned, in reality Alison had a looming deadline and had headed out to UQ on a whim. Forgetting her earlier ideas about seeking out an “against all odds” subject for her article, she had decided to go traditional and couldn’t believe her luck when she’d literally almost bumped into somebody who totally fit the bill.
Isabelle hesitated for a second and then nodded. ‘Sure, I’d love to.’
‘Excellent! Tha
nks so much,’ Alison replied. ‘Let’s head up to the coffee shop and have a chat.’
* * * * *
Having had no need to flee to Blue Moon Lake for months, it felt a little strange as Isabelle headed down the familiar dirt road. It was ironic too – this time she needed to hide from her friends not hide the fact she had no friends.
Having told her uni pals she was sitting her exams early so as to attend an overseas wedding, Isabelle had to get out of Brisbane for a while and so her old haunt was the obvious choice. It was a shame she wasn’t there to bask in the glory of the newspaper article but it couldn’t be helped.
Rising early, Isabelle drove into town still in her PJs and collected a paper from the stack outside the general store. Dropping her payment into the honesty box, she realised she should have waited for Elsie to open up so she could gauge her reaction when she realised her brush with fame had finally arrived.
Isabelle had just made herself a coffee when her mobile rang. Reaching over to hit the speaker button she said, ‘Hi Mum’, without preamble.
‘Issie, how did you know it was me?’ her mother replied (she still didn’t get the caller ID thing).
‘Who else would ring me at six am on a Saturday?’
‘Ah, I hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘No, I was up.’
‘I thought as much seeing today was the big day. Gosh Issie, Dad and I are so proud of you! Our daughter chosen as the face of the biggest uni in Queensland! It’s just incredible. All my friends will be green with envy.’
‘It’s not that big a deal, really. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.’
‘Well yes, but I don’t just mean the picture. I mean how you got yourself there in the first place. Let’s face it love you weren’t much chop at school and your dad and I did worry about your future. Then out of the blue you pull yourself up by the bootstraps and enrol at uni! My secret hope for you was a secretarial course or a hairdressing apprenticeship. Gosh I get all teary just thinking about it.’
‘Come on Mum, it’s not that special. Lots of people go to uni.’
‘Not in our family they don’t. You’re a real pioneer Issie.’
Isabelle couldn’t help but smile at that comment. She was a bit of a pioneer, wasn’t she? And the way she figured it, if she expanded her social circle a bit further to include some law or medical students she might just meet someone special and there was her future taken care of.
So much for Nick’s dire prediction about her not amounting to anything.
Ah, yes, she was really on her way now.
Fortified by a large coffee from her beloved De’Longhi, Isabelle gathered her things together and bundled up in her parka before heading out the door. Winter was definitely biting now and she was really looking forward to the arrival of spring.
Locking her door behind her she checked her watch and realised she would have to walk briskly. Despite living so close to campus she still managed to run late most mornings. Not that it really mattered she supposed, but it was something she needed to work on. Then again the icy snow was still thick on the ground so it was just as well she had to walk fast.
Learning to dress in layers and discovering the necessity of a beanie, gloves and a scarf were just a few new life experiences Isabelle was coming to terms with. She walked in the middle of the road because it was the driest part and also simply because she could. Cars were not common in these parts and their approach could be heard far away in the crisp, unpolluted air.
Half an hour later Isabelle sat in a classroom, where she was, in fact, an officially enrolled student with an authentic student ID card. Yes, it was a remote, regional campus of the University of Western Tasmania with an enrolment of 75, housed in an old high school. Isabelle was enrolled in an Ecology degree, a subject in which, admittedly, she had zero interest. The university campus had no proper library and students had to email requests to the main campus with an average waiting time of five days. And yes, it did snow there regularly and the buildings were not centrally heated.
Isabelle had soon learned how the description of a ‘cosy’ atmosphere, small class sizes and a World Heritage location teeming with wildlife had lured her fellow nature-loving students there, whereas she was there with the sole intention of getting a foot in the door.
It had taken some doing.
While her friends at UQ enjoyed their mid-year holidays Isabelle phoned the admissions office of possibly every tertiary institution in Australia that offered a mid-year intake and was prepared to overlook her tragic OP score. Unsurprisingly, most had passed on the opportunity to welcome her into their student body, but finally good old Western Tassie had come to the rescue. They were nearly as desperate as she was, given that their funding would cease if they couldn’t fill their enrolments. Isabelle wasn’t sure who was more excited when her application was accepted, them or her.
She didn’t plan to stay long term – two semesters should be enough to boost her academic record to an acceptable level. Her aim was to go back to UQ as a real student and earn a degree the normal way.
But UWT had some definite advantages. The cost of living was really cheap and the small class sizes meant that Isabelle got all the help she needed to improve her academic standing. Her nest egg was well invested and she even had a job in the aptly named End of the World Cafe. Things had actually turned out better than she could have imagined.
Reading the paper that night, she came across the story of a woman in Melbourne who had faked not only her enrolment in a law degree, but had also earnt herself a job on the strength of her bogus qualifications. Fortunately her ruse had fallen apart quite spectacularly when she took on her first court case. It had soon become apparent that her knowledge of a courtroom had been gleaned from reading legal thrillers and the judge was forced to declare a mistrial. And now she was looking down the barrel of a jail term for fraud. Not to mention a vicious social media hate campaign from her disgruntled client.
Wow, at least I wasn’t that bad, thought Isabella self-righteously.
Looking up at her newspaper article again Isabelle shuddered. Yes, it did showcase what she had gotten away with but it was also a reminder of her own dishonesty and a warning to never sink that low again.
Isabelle liked to think that she would have eventually decided to abandon her charade, that the reality of being unable to attend a graduation ceremony and the expectation she might be qualified to do something other than entry level jobs might have hit home.
In truth though it was the article that had forced her hand. The message from the UQ admissions office had come via The Courier Mail. Wanting to profile Isabelle on the university website they had been unable to locate her on their records and were very keen to speak to her. They were assuming it was a spelling error or that she may have enrolled under a different name but it had been enough to give Isabelle the fright of her life.
Hastily changing her home and mobile phone numbers had given her some breathing space but the thought that people were trying to track her down and that she might be exposed had scared her enough to take a good look at the person she had become.
Yes, Isabelle decided as she set the coffee machine before heading off to bed, she was ashamed of what she had done but she was not totally sorry it had happened. Her experience as a pseudo student had helped her realise that life goals were worth working towards in an honest fashion and also that she did want to make something of her life.
By some stroke of luck she had escaped from the whole situation unscathed and she had the opportunity to make things right.
Surely that wasn’t such a bad thing?
About The Author
Helen McKenna lives on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Queensland and has worked in banking, local government, learning support and as a biographer and swimming teacher.
Her other titles include:
The Beach House
Room 46
> The Perfect Proposal
Contact:
Email: [email protected]
Website: http://www.helenmckenna.com.au
FB :http://www.facebook.com/HelenMcKenna.Author
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/helenmckenna_
Preview of The Beach House
By Helen McKenna
Prologue
The Sunset Point School of Arts Hall was not used to such commotion. Built in the 1950s, the modest timber structure had hosted Saturday night dances, debutante balls, ballet classes and the local Eisteddfod each year since 1974. Over the years it had also seen many town meetings, but never one quite like this. All two hundred seats were filled and dozens more people lined the sides and crowded at the back of the hall. A loud buzz of conversation permeated the room. Four people seated at a long table at the front struggled to maintain order and correct meeting procedure.
‘Order please,’ Moira Bell said into the microphone. ‘Everybody needs their chance to speak.’
When the crowd ignored Moira’s request, in fact the noise seemed to increase, Jim Stewart gave a shrill whistle. ‘All right!’ he shouted. ‘Calm down! Mr Walton here has something to say.’
Max Walton stood, but was drowned out before he said his first word.
Flashback Page 4
