Naivete

Chapter Two

Utopia?


Sam barely made it to her first (and very early) class the next day. She was up late, still suffering from the adrenaline rush that Brent had instilled in her, and when she did sleep, her dreams were erratic and unsettling. She awoke just in time to take a quick shower and bolt for her first official class of the semester.

When she entered her Utopias and Dystopias class, the very first thing she noticed was that the professor appeared to be at least eighty years old. His face was shrunken, his skin tight, and liver spots and wrinkles stood out on every exposed part of his skin. He did, however, flash her a brilliant smile when she entered, and she noticed that his eyes sparkled mischievously. She imagined that had he been significantly heavier and maybe a little taller, he\'d have made a good Santa Claus.

The second thing she noticed was that most of the students in the classroom were squabbling angrily at one another, heated debates rising from all corners. Sitting right in the center of this discussion was Mike, who was having a very animated conversation with the girl seated to his left. She couldn\'t make out any of the words that either of them were using, but it must have been very intense indeed, considering the way his hands gestured madly and her face fell at the end of each of his sentences.

Sam swallowed her pride, and mentally pushed aside the things Brent had told her about Mike the night before, and took a seat to his left, realizing that it was more important to her to be nearby someone she already knew (even if it was only the briefest of acquaintances), than to avoid someone based on another person\'s word.

The third thing she noticed was the question written in fine, old-fashioned script on the blackboard:

\"Discussion: Do we live in a utopic or dystopic society?\"

Sam merely acknowledged the question with a tilt of her head and looked at the professor curiously. He smiled at her again and gestured at the scene around her, indicating that she should join in the fun that was obviously being had by the rest of the class.

\"What do you think?\" came an exasperated voice to her left. Turning sharply, she saw Mike looking at her impatiently. Her eyebrows raised a little as she pondered an answer.

\"Well...\" she started slowly. \"If, by utopic, it means that we live in a society of freedom and free expression, then I\'d say - \"

She was suddenly brusquely interrupted by the girl sitting to Mike\'s left, who from the looks of it was a fan of free-expression herself. Her hair was dyed every color of the rainbow, she had several piercings in each ear, one in her nose, one in her lip, and one in her eyebrow, and her makeup was severe and bold. Her clothing was primarily black, punk-inspired fare, and Sam smiled a little in spite of the interruption. She\'d always gotten along with the girls who dressed and spoke like this.

\"BUT, as I was telling Sparky here, those very freedoms that we\'re promised are brutally taken away from us in the form of political correctness, suppression of the media, and the other millions of instances in which free speech is removed from us merely by the standards of social acceptance. It may be law and all, but if we as a society can\'t embrace it, then it really doesn\'t count, does it?\"

\"Yes, thank you, Norma Rae, I believe you\'ve made your point many times over by now. But are you seriously trying to convince us that our freedoms have been brutally taken away and that we do, in fact, live in a DYStopic society? I mean, there you sit with your septuple-venti cinnamon raspberry-vanilla white mocha, all your crazy-ass piercings and crazy-ass hair, your decidedly and vicously rebellious clothing, and you\'re telling me that you have been stripped of your freedoms? Sorry, sister, but it doesn\'t appear that you have room to talk.\"

\"Oh, and I suppose you do?\" the girl bit back angrily. \"I suppose you\'ve had such a sordid and mistreated life that you have more right to complain than I do?\"

\"No!\" Mike called, the frustration literally seeping from his pores. \"Which is precisely why you don\'t hear me complaining!\"

Sam couldn\'t help but burst into giggles at her two classmates\' rising anger. They were, without a doubt, going to be hilarious to listen to all semester. Before she could interject with her own opinion, however, the classroom was silenced by the professor, who stood and waved, an amused smile on his lips.

\"Okay, okay, okay. Now that we\'ve gotten to know one another, what say we go ahead and begin, eh?\"

The remaining hour of class was a fascinating one for Sam - even though she had many other, primarily music-related classes this semester, she was certain this would become one of her favorites. The professor was bright, spry, and had a very sharp sense of humor. He also seemed to have few qualms about mildly insulting some of his students when they came up with answers or questions that were not of the calibur he apparently expected of them. Some of the more bizarre and off-base comments he fielded seemed to cause him great pain. He would squint his eyes shut and stroke his temples with the fingers of one hand for a moment, as if trying to come up with the response that would best represent how unnecessarily stupid the comment was. He would then deliver such a response.

Without a doubt, Sam noticed that the three most vocal people in the class were Mike, the punk-ish girl next to him (whose name, she discovered, was Karen), and a relatively soft-spoken bookish type in the back of the room named Paul. His comments, quiet though they were, were frequent and typically brought fresh, unspoken ideas to the class\'s attention. It was apparent that he would quickly become the professor\'s favorite student. Sam didn\'t contribute much - in truth, all was being said for her by one of the three - but she paid attention, took good notes, and overall very much enjoyed herself.

Mike, Karen, and Paul managed to convene together fairly quickly after class was over, and as Sam passed them on her way out, Mike smiled and waved at her.

\"Hey, Sam. We need a fourth. Wanna join us?\"

One of Sam\'s eyebrows shot up. \"For what, an orgy? I think you can probably get by with three on that one.\"

Karen barely suppressed a giggle before throwing an arm heavily around Sam\'s shoulders. \"Study group. I have a feeling we\'re going to need someone to mediate for us. You know, someone to keep me from ripping hairs off of certain heads, that sort of thing.\"

Sam smiled and tilted her head slightly. \"Babysitting duty, huh? I think I can probably handle that. When do we start?\"

The four quickly decided to meet for breakfast the following morning, and parted ways. Sam shook her head slowly as she heard Karen and Mike start up again, and headed back to her dorm. She only had a few minutes to relax and recharge before her next class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, Sam was seriously regretting signing up for such a full course load. It was only day one of what would probably feel like seventeen thousand, and she was already exhausted. She collapsed on the bed, tossing her cell phone onto the table next to her. She hadn\'t seen Sarah since the night before - she assumed that the boisterous girl had slept at Billy\'s in lieu of returning to her own dorm - and she was frankly rather glad for the solitude. The entire day had been, from start to finish, like the worst kind of social test. Her private vocal instructor was a Nazi, she was convinced. The woman had to have been born with that stick up her ass, because this sort of behavior could only be the result of a lifetime of practice.

Sam turned her head to the side and looked at the clock. It was only 6:15, and she already felt like curling up into a little ball and passing out for the night. Realizing that, really, there was nothing stopping her, she eagerly flipped off the light and rolled onto her side. Her breathing evened out, and she felt herself drift off into a deep, untroubled slumber.

Until 8:30, when her phone rang noisily in her ear. Moaning a little as she rolled towards the sound, she grabbed the phone roughly and glared at it. She didn\'t recognize the number, so she put it down again and tried to return to sleep. When the phone only rang again a few minutes later, she snatched it off the table and pushed the answer button with a shaky finger.

\"Hello?\" she answered drowsily.

\"Sorry, did I wake you?\" came a smooth voice from the other end. For a reason she couldn\'t quite place in her current sleepy state, that voice inspired a chill that ran from the base of her spine all the way up to the top of her head.

\"Um...yeah, kind of,\" she said quietly, trying desperately to awaken herself fully and try to remember who that magnificent voice belonged to.

\"I\'m sorry, little girl,\" came the laughing reply. \"Would you like me to call back later?\"

Then it hit her like a ton of very beautiful bricks.

\"Brent!\"

\"Yeah?\"

\"Um...hi! No, don\'t call back later. I mean, call back whenever you want, but...I can talk now. What\'s up?\"

His chuckle came again, even smoother and richer than before, and she felt herself melting into a little puddle of Sam, right there on the bed. She laid back and tried to relax, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room.

\"Not much. I have to say, I was thinking about getting to call you tonight all day. I really liked talking to you last night.\"

Sam\'s heart once again told her to shove it, and began to run at an incredible pace. But she felt a tinge of guilt, however...she\'d barely thought about Brent all day, she\'d been so busy. She hesitated, unsure what to say, but apparently Brent had some experience talking to nervous girls and took the reins effortlessly.

\"So, did you have a nice first day? All your classes are wonderful, I\'m sure.\"

Sam laughed a little. She hadn\'t really been ready to recap her very full day yet, but hey...a gorgeous man wanted to know how her day went. Who was she to deprive him? She launched into a brief, yet thorough description of her classes, some of the interesting people she\'d met, and her professors. She decided at the last minute to leave out her acceptance into Mike\'s study group...she wasn\'t sure why, but she didn\'t feel that Brent really required that particular piece of information yet. When she was done, he let out a sharp breath.

\"Wow, sounds like you\'re going to be pretty busy this semester. I mean, that was only your first day.\"

Sam rolled her eyes. \"I know. It\'s gonna suck.\"

\"No, it\'s not,\" he drawled. \"You\'re a smart girl, you\'ll do fine. I am a little disappointed though.\"

\"Oh?\" Sam asked, her brows furrowing in concern. \"Why?\"

\"Well, I was hoping that you\'d have a light enough courseload that you might be able to pencil in dinner with me this week.\"

And Sam was officially, to use a most cliched term, on cloud nine.

\"I, uh...I don\'t know, let me check my very busy schedule. You see, not only do I have a lot of schoolwork, but I mysteriously became very popular today, and I just may not be able to fit you in between all the other dates I\'ve been offered.\"

Brent laughed and sighed. \"Well, please don\'t deny any other lucky guy on my behalf. Although, I can personally guarantee you the fanciest, most romantic fast-food dinner you\'ve ever had. If that helps at all.\"

\"Well....\" Sam held back, biting her lower lip to suppress her giggle. \"I guess I can probably pencil you in. As it happens, I have every night available this week. Oh, except Wednesday. Study group.\"

\"Wow, you already found a study group?\"

\"Well, yeah. I think we all kind of fell together on accident.\"

\"That\'s great. Anyone interesting?\"

Sam thought for a moment. Now would be the time to let Brent know that she would be spending probably a bit more time with Mike than she\'d originally planned. However, things were going really well, and she didn\'t want him to get upset again.

\"Not really, just some cool people from class.\"

\"Well, good. So, dinner then. How about tomorrow? Seven o\'clock?\"

Sam laughed at his impatience. \"Sure, tomorrow at seven sounds great.\"

\"Wear something sexy,\" he said quickly before hanging up, leaving Sam gripping the phone, her heart pounding with abandon in her chest, and what she was sure was a ridiculous smile plastered on her face.


A/N: And end Chapter 2. Comments? Criticisms? Suggestions? Questions? Bomb threats? You don\'t have to sign up to review, so please feed a starving writer.