It was twenty minutes before the start of class on the first day of my first year of college.
California. The land of opportunity. Maybe not completely accurate, but for a gay kid like me, it was everything. It was away from the judging-eyed, upturned-nosed, Bible-belted people from my hometown, away from my parents and their comments about "maybe changing my mind," and away from the town that had decided it wasn't for people like me.
I sat in the empty classroom, having anxiously come early, hunched over my phone, and began reading about dying stars.
When most suns die, they compact into small white dwarves surrounded by the decaying remains of planets, comets, and asteroids, each despondently being drawn to future destruction. We have observed this fate befall dozens of systems in our galaxy and, one day, our sun will follow suit. In the procedure of dying, it will burn up all its remaining hydrogen until-
Someone bumped me from behind. I looked up to see a girl squeezing past me to find a seat. She wore large hoop earrings that tugged on her lobes. She was wearing a black necklace with a cross. I shuddered a little as she sat in the seat next to me.
"Hello!" she twittered out. I assumed she was talking to someone else and continued wondering about how even stars have an end. I tried to find my place in my readings when the same girl tapped my shoulder. I jumped, surprised.
"My name is Annabel," she said, tilting her head. With a pregnant pause, she continued. ".... And yours...?"
"Uh, yeah, James." I scooted my chair away from the girl. I rarely want to talk to people in general and this girl especially I knew from experience could end up being someone I don't want to associate with.
"What's your major?" pausing for a response but failing to get one once again, she continued. "These 100+ student classes feel so boring and impersonal. Like, if I just wanted to see an old white guy talk to himself, I'd just watch politics!"
She gaffed a little at her own joke. Finally, the professor took his place at the front of the class.
"Welcome to Introductory Psychology. I hope you've all had a chance to go over the syllabus..." He was a short, white man. A white dwarf, I thought.
I amused myself with the thought. Small, white, dense. It really did fit. All of us students must be the unfortunate satellites stuck in his orbit then.
Once the professor finally began wrapping up, I started packing my stuff into my bag and tossed it over my shoulder. Looking for my chance, I lept out of my seat and ran out of the room while the professor wasn't looking in my direction.
She was there again the next day. I had purposely come late so the seats would fill, flushing her into the middle of the crowd and away from me but, unfortunately, she had stayed behind, even placing her bag on the seat next to her, supposedly for me. Maybe I would have been touched if I wasn't so wary of her already. There were no other seats. I filed into the seat next to her.
"Hi, James!" I did not respond.
"It's Annabel, remember?" She looked at me with a big grin. She had a piercing on her lower lip. I wonder if that hurt to get. My mind got lost in the thought of piercings.
"Did you do yesterday's homework?" Interrupting my thoughts, she prodded again for a response. I did not want to talk to her. What happens when we get past the pleasantries and she finds out about me?
"Yes, it was easy," I said quietly. Her eyes lit up from the brief interaction, this hyper-social girl who had forced herself into my orbit. No, she forced me into her orbit.
Before she could respond, class started. I could rest easy for a short while.
As the class reached its end, I packed my bag, ready to bolt again. Annabel, anticipating my flight plan, leaned in and whispered, "I guess I'm not as smart as you because I really struggled on the homework. Do you think I could shoot you a question if I get stuck?" Limp in her hand was a slip of paper.
I considered my options. In no universe did I want to risk a relationship with this girl. At the same time, it would be rude to reject her offer, would it not? But then again, she had been rude first by breaching my atmosphere. I reluctantly took the paper anyway.
Class now ending, Annabel, seemingly satisfied by my earlier acceptance, didn't try to talk to me as I left.
---
When I arrived at my dorm, there was a note on the door. "‘80s themed party. This Monday, 8 pm, room 2103." I took the note off the door and walked inside. I crumpled the flyer up and threw it in the trash in my room.
I worked on homework that whole weekend. I worked my way through the assigned readings for the entire week. By Sunday I had nothing left to do.
I looked at the clock. 8:16 pm. I turned to the trash can and picked up the compact paper ball sitting on top of the pile of discarded paper and wrappers. I uncrumpled it and looked at its warped letters. Party. Monday. 8 pm.
I looked at the clock again. 8:20 pm. I threw on a jean jacket and tucked my shirt into my jeans. That's as close to the 80s as I could muster. Turning towards the door, at the last second, I remembered my ID I'd need to get into the building. I left my apartment.
---
The party was dimly lit by a few LEDs lining the ceiling. I paused for a second and looked around the crowd of people. I turn and walk into the kitchen. There were dozens of plastic cups. I reached out to grab one of them.
"Whoa, hey there," A guy standing nearby pushed me away from the drinks. He was wearing a greaser outfit. Was that even from the 80s? "No one's allowed a drink before I get to know the drinker." This must be his party.
"Oh, sorry. Well, uh, I'm James, I guess." I sheepishly replied.
"That was a lot of words only to get a James. You know what-" He stepped forward to grab at the ID around my neck. "This is easier. James Ronaldo? A first-year? We got a greenie on our hands!" He chuckled. "And what's this?"
I glanced down and saw the rainbow heart sticker I had gotten in high school but never had the courage to use until now.
"Ohhh, you're gay. Sure, you can party here dude, but no one is going to go home with you."
My heart dropped. What was that supposed to mean? My face flushed.
He looked me up and down and dropped my ID. "I hope I don't have to worry about you liking me or whatever," He chuckled a little. "Though you don't look gay. Well, have fun, I guess." The greaser turned, pulled away by his friends.
Clutching my ID, I quickly turned around. It was a mistake coming here. I pushed through the crowd and rushed down the stairs.
Finally outside, I sat down against the building, my head upturned towards the sky. You couldn't see the stars. Probably light pollution. Or maybe they were all dying, too dim to be seen anymore.
I pushed away tears and swallowed the lump in my throat. I pulled out my phone to check the time. There, in my case, was a small piece of paper. I stopped and looked at it for a minute. Making up my mind, I pulled it out and dialed the number.
After a few rings, she picked up.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, um, is this Annabel..?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
95% of the stars in our universe eventually become white dwarfs. But some stars are special. Some are so full of energy that they become supernovas.
What a feeling to be a white dwarf in the presence of a supernova. Not knowing your fate, so beat down you've become small and dim when someone bright and strong comes into your orbit.
California. The land of opportunity. Maybe not completely accurate, but for a gay kid like me, it was everything. It was away from the judging-eyed, upturned-nosed, Bible-belted people from my hometown, away from my parents and their comments about "maybe changing my mind," and away from the town that had decided it wasn't for people like me.
I sat in the empty classroom, having anxiously come early, hunched over my phone, and began reading about dying stars.
When most suns die, they compact into small white dwarves surrounded by the decaying remains of planets, comets, and asteroids, each despondently being drawn to future destruction. We have observed this fate befall dozens of systems in our galaxy and, one day, our sun will follow suit. In the procedure of dying, it will burn up all its remaining hydrogen until-
Someone bumped me from behind. I looked up to see a girl squeezing past me to find a seat. She wore large hoop earrings that tugged on her lobes. She was wearing a black necklace with a cross. I shuddered a little as she sat in the seat next to me.
"Hello!" she twittered out. I assumed she was talking to someone else and continued wondering about how even stars have an end. I tried to find my place in my readings when the same girl tapped my shoulder. I jumped, surprised.
"My name is Annabel," she said, tilting her head. With a pregnant pause, she continued. ".... And yours...?"
"Uh, yeah, James." I scooted my chair away from the girl. I rarely want to talk to people in general and this girl especially I knew from experience could end up being someone I don't want to associate with.
"What's your major?" pausing for a response but failing to get one once again, she continued. "These 100+ student classes feel so boring and impersonal. Like, if I just wanted to see an old white guy talk to himself, I'd just watch politics!"
She gaffed a little at her own joke. Finally, the professor took his place at the front of the class.
"Welcome to Introductory Psychology. I hope you've all had a chance to go over the syllabus..." He was a short, white man. A white dwarf, I thought.
I amused myself with the thought. Small, white, dense. It really did fit. All of us students must be the unfortunate satellites stuck in his orbit then.
Once the professor finally began wrapping up, I started packing my stuff into my bag and tossed it over my shoulder. Looking for my chance, I lept out of my seat and ran out of the room while the professor wasn't looking in my direction.
She was there again the next day. I had purposely come late so the seats would fill, flushing her into the middle of the crowd and away from me but, unfortunately, she had stayed behind, even placing her bag on the seat next to her, supposedly for me. Maybe I would have been touched if I wasn't so wary of her already. There were no other seats. I filed into the seat next to her.
"Hi, James!" I did not respond.
"It's Annabel, remember?" She looked at me with a big grin. She had a piercing on her lower lip. I wonder if that hurt to get. My mind got lost in the thought of piercings.
"Did you do yesterday's homework?" Interrupting my thoughts, she prodded again for a response. I did not want to talk to her. What happens when we get past the pleasantries and she finds out about me?
"Yes, it was easy," I said quietly. Her eyes lit up from the brief interaction, this hyper-social girl who had forced herself into my orbit. No, she forced me into her orbit.
Before she could respond, class started. I could rest easy for a short while.
As the class reached its end, I packed my bag, ready to bolt again. Annabel, anticipating my flight plan, leaned in and whispered, "I guess I'm not as smart as you because I really struggled on the homework. Do you think I could shoot you a question if I get stuck?" Limp in her hand was a slip of paper.
I considered my options. In no universe did I want to risk a relationship with this girl. At the same time, it would be rude to reject her offer, would it not? But then again, she had been rude first by breaching my atmosphere. I reluctantly took the paper anyway.
Class now ending, Annabel, seemingly satisfied by my earlier acceptance, didn't try to talk to me as I left.
---
When I arrived at my dorm, there was a note on the door. "‘80s themed party. This Monday, 8 pm, room 2103." I took the note off the door and walked inside. I crumpled the flyer up and threw it in the trash in my room.
I worked on homework that whole weekend. I worked my way through the assigned readings for the entire week. By Sunday I had nothing left to do.
I looked at the clock. 8:16 pm. I turned to the trash can and picked up the compact paper ball sitting on top of the pile of discarded paper and wrappers. I uncrumpled it and looked at its warped letters. Party. Monday. 8 pm.
I looked at the clock again. 8:20 pm. I threw on a jean jacket and tucked my shirt into my jeans. That's as close to the 80s as I could muster. Turning towards the door, at the last second, I remembered my ID I'd need to get into the building. I left my apartment.
---
The party was dimly lit by a few LEDs lining the ceiling. I paused for a second and looked around the crowd of people. I turn and walk into the kitchen. There were dozens of plastic cups. I reached out to grab one of them.
"Whoa, hey there," A guy standing nearby pushed me away from the drinks. He was wearing a greaser outfit. Was that even from the 80s? "No one's allowed a drink before I get to know the drinker." This must be his party.
"Oh, sorry. Well, uh, I'm James, I guess." I sheepishly replied.
"That was a lot of words only to get a James. You know what-" He stepped forward to grab at the ID around my neck. "This is easier. James Ronaldo? A first-year? We got a greenie on our hands!" He chuckled. "And what's this?"
I glanced down and saw the rainbow heart sticker I had gotten in high school but never had the courage to use until now.
"Ohhh, you're gay. Sure, you can party here dude, but no one is going to go home with you."
My heart dropped. What was that supposed to mean? My face flushed.
He looked me up and down and dropped my ID. "I hope I don't have to worry about you liking me or whatever," He chuckled a little. "Though you don't look gay. Well, have fun, I guess." The greaser turned, pulled away by his friends.
Clutching my ID, I quickly turned around. It was a mistake coming here. I pushed through the crowd and rushed down the stairs.
Finally outside, I sat down against the building, my head upturned towards the sky. You couldn't see the stars. Probably light pollution. Or maybe they were all dying, too dim to be seen anymore.
I pushed away tears and swallowed the lump in my throat. I pulled out my phone to check the time. There, in my case, was a small piece of paper. I stopped and looked at it for a minute. Making up my mind, I pulled it out and dialed the number.
After a few rings, she picked up.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, um, is this Annabel..?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
95% of the stars in our universe eventually become white dwarfs. But some stars are special. Some are so full of energy that they become supernovas.
What a feeling to be a white dwarf in the presence of a supernova. Not knowing your fate, so beat down you've become small and dim when someone bright and strong comes into your orbit.