Revelations, Susan Evelyn [e reading malayalam books .TXT] 📗

Revelations

By Susan Evelyn

DAY 1
Dear Diary,
Today was the first day back at college. University actually, but everyone calls it “college”. My fellow students and I crowded around the schedules pinned on the board to check our rosters. It must have taken half the morning to get everyone sorted out. Luckily I found mine quickly.

My Creative Writing lecturer, Mr Silverman, gave us our first assignment and that, Dear Diary, is where you come in. He wants us to write something every day for at least a month on an honor system. He said he will never read them and it’s an exercise in writing routinely every day. Well, good luck with that. I have never been able to keep one going for long before.

So, Dear Diary, we begin.


My name is Perdita Foxworthy. It’s not a name I enjoy but has some unknown family significance handed down through the generations. It is so outdated I tell people to call me Dita. My best friends usually call me Dee which suits me better.

I am one of the hot girls in school, even if I must say so myself. Straight hair hangs down past my shoulders; very dark like the blue-black of a midnight sky. My eyes are dark too, almost black, and with my pale skin I look a little like a gothic pixie. I have a bit of an impish nature too so it all goes well. I get away with it because I am short and cute with a slight body build but I am not an airhead like the pretty girl brigade; I get very good grades.

Despite classes, today was a good day. I caught up with all my best’ies and we staked out “our” table in the canteen. Everyone watches when all four of us walk past. We make an impressive group. I hear their silly whispers and boastful talk when they think we are out of range, but I assure you, Dear Diary, we girls are not that type. We may flirt with the boys, but that’s as far as it goes. None of them would dare do anything untoward as they value their man parts to much.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for the teachers, we are not all in the same classes. I share English Literature with Jem (that’s Jemima to her parents), Ancient History with Nan (otherwise known as Nannette), and Mathematics with the genius Vada (don’t ask; her real name is Theresa so you can see why she prefers a nickname). All of us are together in home room which is a blast. Our year teacher is Miss Bourke and she’s a sweetie. As long as we don’t destroy the place or attract too much unwarranted attention from the Head Master, we get away with almost anything so the short time spent in home room is like a mini party.

The food in the canteen was as bad as ever so I made do with some potato fries and a milkshake for lunch. I’ll eat better tonight. Dad is making a big ‘welcome back to school’ roast dinner like he does every year. I can smell it baking now and can hear Dad rattling around in the kitchen.

Apart from being the first day for the year, everything was pretty normal and I don’t know what I will find to write about for the next 29 days. That’s it for now. I have to wash up for dinner.

PS.
Dinner was wonderful – one of his best yet. Roast beef with loads of vegetables and a wonderful garlic sauce which is new to his recipe repertoire.


DAY 2
Dear Diary,
Yesterday was an aberration. It lulled me into thinking the year would be as quiet as last year.

In the morning, everything was uneventful as normal. I woke up at the last possible minute and hit the ground in the running position. It was all a mad blur to be ready and presentable in time for the bus. I grabbed a few slices of cold roast beef to push between two pieces of bread to make do for breakfast. Roast is always better the next day. Dad was yelling something about breakfast being the most important meal as the door closed behind me.

Got to college and the day was still ordinary. Met up with the other girls and we shared a few comments about what we saw on TV last night. Nan had some gossip to share about the teacher who left in the middle of last year. When we arrived at the lockers I knew the day was no longer average.

We had walked into a buzz of gossip and giggling. The four of us exchanged a look and rolled our eyes. There must be a new kid starting, probably a boy given the way the girls were behaving. We agreed to compare notes at lunch time.

My only class for the morning was Creative Writing. This is a smallish class so we sit in a U-shaped arrangement of tables which encourages open debate and brainstorming. Mr Silverman was pulling out his class notes when the door opened. We all looked up to see who it was. It must have been an intimidating sight from the doorway.


In walked someone I hadn’t seen on campus before. He took one look at the sea of faces all turned in his direction and seemed to shrink a little. With his head bent downwards to avoid our curiosity, he approached the teacher and handed him a slip of paper. This must be the person who had caused the buzz in the corridors earlier and the paper would be from the Registrar’s Office introducing him as a new student.

Mr Silverman glanced at it, smiled at the young man and introduced him to us as Alexander Peterson. Something twanged in the back of my head. The information was not right. I don’t know where it came from, but all of a sudden I knew it was not the stranger's real name.

This Alex is moderately tall, quite a few inches on me but that’s not so unusual as I’m only 5 foot 2 inches on a good day. He has wide shoulders and a reasonably broad chest. Despite the loose jacket worn over a t-shirt, there does not appear to be an ounce of waste fat on his toned body, but he doesn’t look like a jock either.


His hair is motley brown, trimmed shortish all over except for an uneven tussle at the front which did not flop over his high forehead. His face is a pleasing oval shape with a clearly defined chin, but not the square jaw of the typical ‘hero’ figure. His facial features are even and quite average. He would blend very easily into a crowd and probably did not enjoy being the focus of attention in this morning’s class. His eyes were hard to see with his bowed head and his lips were pulled tight as if he clenched his teeth. No doubt we will see him properly when he is less self conscious and wary.

He walked the length of the room to an empty seat at the end of the opposite row of desks. Strangely, he did glance up and flick his eyes down the other row of students which included me. I saw the touch of a smile relax the corner of his mouth, but I could be projecting my own interest. I have to admit, though, there is something has caught my attention about this young man.

He sat quietly throughout the class, intently watching our rather boisterous interaction. If he was me, thrown into a strange environment, I would be observing the normal behaviour of the inmates too; assessing the personalities, the pecking order, and the accepted mode of behaviour. I wonder how many times he has been in this situation.

There was still a lively buzz happening in the canteen at lunch. I did not see him and wondered if the thought of facing so many strangers had frightened him away. I had to admit to the others I had seen the mysterious cause of the commotion and he was a reasonably good looking young man, tallish (they all giggled as any normal person would appear tall to me) but quite ordinary so far.

The rest of the day was exceptionally ordinary. I did not see him again.

Dad has his ‘night out with the boys’ tonight so I am on my own for a few hours. I made a simple dinner from the cold roast and some salad and came up to my room to relax.

Recreation is far from my mind though, and in writing this I realise something keeps niggling at the back of my mind about Alex. I don’t know why, he seems regular enough. Whatever it is will come to me eventually. It usually does.


Day 3
Dear Diary,
Jem and I were early to our first lecture of the year in English Literature. We wanted to establish “our” seats. This was a much larger class than Creative Writing so we were assigned a small lecture hall with raked seating rising from the podium. There’s a sweet spot about a third of the way from the front where the sound from the lecture platform is easy to hear and the sun does not get in our eyes from the bank of high windows along the side wall.

It did not take long for the other students to meander in and make their choice. Out of habit, people will generally go to the same seats they first select each subsequent session. This was why it had been important for us to be associated with our preferred seats.

There was still an excitement in the air. We had no idea which books we were about to study so there was some speculation on that subject. Also, people had not worked the summer holidays out of their system and were still catching up with the news from all their friends.

The clatter of people taking their seats stopped as the lecturer entered. He had someone with him which caused a whisper to ripple through the class.

We are to have Professor McFinney as our lecturer for this class. It means we will have to pay close attention to unscramble his considerable accent. If not fully awake, listening to him will make no sense at all.

Then he introduced the young man with him, the new student. There was something about the way he stood and the angle from where we looked down on them sparked something in my mind.

A curtain in my mind parted and an insightful flash awoke a memory. Lexie! I must have said it aloud because Jem looked at me with a frown and said “What?”

I had to cover up quickly so I replied, “Alex. That’s the new student I told you about.” Satisfied, she took a long look at the young man and noted all the details.

He was wearing the standard faded denim jeans and plain coloured t-shirt of many male students along with the jacket from yesterday. His head was a little bowed but not quite so apologetically as earlier but he still kept his eyes downcast and unchallenging.

He needs to show some strength or the group would tear him apart later. Students act like pack animals and will pick on anyone they