Classes for everyone were long…
stressful… and well, stressful.
I was at the Viterbi School of
Engineering, sitting in my first Programming class for the Gaming+ App track.
It already felt like a brain twister.
"Holy fuck," I whispered under my
breath as I watched my professor run through code like he was riding a
bicycle—smooth, effortless, like this was second nature. Meanwhile, my brain
felt like it was being tied into knots.
The professor's head snapped toward
me. "Miss Veronica," he said sharply, voice cutting through the room. "Since
you seem so… expressive, why don't you explain this function to the class?"
My stomach dropped. Shit. He was
picking on me because of my language slip.
I stared at the screen, the jumble
of symbols and logic looking more like hieroglyphics than code. "I… uh…" My
voice faltered, heat crawling up my neck.
"Go on," he pressed, arms folded.
"We're waiting."
I clenched my fists under the desk,
forcing myself to breathe. My mind scrambled, pulling fragments of his lecture
together. Slowly, painfully, I pieced it out. "It's… a loop. It repeats the
process until the condition is met."
The professor raised a brow. "Not
bad. See? You can do it when you try."
Relief washed over me, though my
pride still stung. First class and I'm already the one getting called out.
Great.
The bell rang, and chaos erupted.
Students shoved notebooks into bags, laptops snapped shut, and the room emptied
like a flood. I grabbed my things, running full speed across campus.
Fabian was leaving his Performance
Kinesiology class, sweat still clinging to his shirt after a lab on sprint
mechanics. His professor had drilled them on muscle groups and endurance. He
shoved his notebook into his bag, muttering, "Feels like they want me to be
both an athlete and a scientist."
The bell echoed again, and Fabian
bolted toward his Political Science lecture, where the professor was already
setting up a discussion on constitutional law. He sighed, switching gears from
sprint drills to government systems. "Man, I just wanted a backup plan, not a
damn civics exam," he whispered to himself as he slid into his seat. Later,
he'd have Philosophy, diving into ethics and logic.
Renae was in class, standing on
stage, forced to project emotions she didn't feel yet. Titi was already there,
leaning back with her arms crossed, looking like she owned the room. One year
older, one year more experienced, and she knew it. All Renae felt was anger and
hunger as fuck.
Paying close attention to her script
and instructions from her professor, she couldn't help but glance over in
Titi's section from time to time.
The professor paced the front of the
class, voice sharp. "Acting is truth. Strip away the mask. I don't want
performance—I want honesty."
Titi rolled her eyes, whispering
under her breath, "Truth is I'd rather be anywhere else."
But when she stepped forward, her
voice rang out strong, commanding the room despite her frustration.
Renae's professor stopped suddenly,
eyes locking on her. "You. Read the line."
Renae's throat tightened. She
glanced at her script, words blurring. "I… I don't know if I can—"
"Don't think," the professor
snapped. "Feel."
Renae stumbled through the line,
voice shaky, emotion caught somewhere between fear and frustration. The
professor sighed. "You're holding back. Acting is not safe. Try again."
The soft electronic chime echoed
suddenly.
"Saved by the bell," Renae muttered,
jumping off stage, grabbing her belongings. She rushed from Acting, scripts
spilling out of her bag, bolting in the direction of the lunch room while
mumbling to herself. "Do they expect me to cry on stage and then calculate
building loads in the same day?" she groaned, half running, half laughing at
the absurdity.
Travis stormed out of his Business
lecture, already annoyed at case studies and supply chain analysis. "This is
just numbers dressed up in bullshit," he muttered, shoving his notebook into
his bag.
Jay, of course, was in Gaming, his
professor lecturing about design mechanics and player psychology. He looked
energized, but even he admitted, "Man, they're throwing boss‑level assignments
at us already."
We all collided in the lunch area,
bags slung over shoulders, faces tired and frustrated. The cafeteria buzzed
with voices, trays clattering, and the smell of food barely cutting through the
exhaustion.
"Second day and I already feel like
I'm dying," I muttered, dropping into a chair.
Fabian laughed weakly. "Try sprint
drills, then a lecture on Plato. My brain and body are both fried."
Renae threw her script onto the
table. "Acting professor wants tears, and my next freaking major will be
architecture. He probably wants precision. I can't be two people at once."
"Yes you can… That's why you're
doing two majors," I said, trying to sound encouraging, even though I was
struggling myself.
Travis smirked. "Business is just
people pretending they're smarter than they are. I'll survive."
Titi suddenly appeared, sliding into
the seat like she and Renae were the greatest of friends. Bitch sicked my
stomach. By the look on both Fabian and Renae's faces, her presence was poison
instead of friendly. She rolled her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Theatre is just emotional torture.
But hey, I'm good at pretending."
"Yes, we know… witches are always
great at those stuff," I snapped, wishing she was anywhere else. Her eyes
blazed with anger, but before she could spit fire, Jay arrived just in time,
arms full of snacks.
Jay grinned, sliding into the seat
beside me. "Gaming's fun, but they're already treating us like we're designing
the next League of Legends. No chill."
He dropped the stash on the
table—chips, cookies, and a couple of greasy paper bags that smelled like
heaven. Renae grabbed first, ripping open a bag of fries like she hadn't eaten
in weeks. Fabian followed, then Travis, then even Titi, though she rolled her
eyes as she munched.
Jay leaned back, watching me as I
bit into a fry, his grin widening. He could feel the anger blazing off me, but
he didn't flinch. "See? Saved your lives. You were all about to die of hunger,
and here I am, your hero."
Renae laughed with her mouth full.
"Jay, you didn't save our lives—you just delayed our deaths."
Fabian smirked. "Nah, man's right.
This is survival food. Without it, I'd be sprinting straight into the
afterlife."
Travis raised his soda. "To Jay,
savior of stomachs."
Jay puffed his chest out, mock
serious. "Fun, fun, fun. That's me. You're welcome."
The table erupted in laughter, the
tension breaking for a moment. Fries disappeared, cookies vanished, and the
greasy bags were torn apart like treasure chests.
Then the bell rang again, sharp and
merciless. Everyone groaned, grabbing their bags, ready to sprint to the next
class.
Full speed, we scattered toward our
next majors, exhaustion chasing us like shadows. Day two at USC, and already it
felt like survival mode.
The cafeteria buzzed with the
shuffle of trays and the echo of voices fading into the halls. Everyone finally
left, but Jay pushed his chair back, ready to go. Before he could stand, Titi's
hand shot out, pulling him down again. Her nails grazed the sleeve of his
hoodie, her grip deceptively light but unyielding.
Her eyes narrowed, voice low and
venomous. "What were you all talking about in the parking lot earlier this
morning?"
Jay's jaw tightened. "None of your
damn business. You may be friends with Travis and Mariann, but I know you're a
snake, Titi. I'd rather you stay the hell away from me."
He yanked his arm free, standing,
but froze when she leaned back with a smile that was all teeth.
"I know you lost your mom's precious
family heirloom," she whispered, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "The one
she got from her mother. What would she do if she found out you gambled it away
after she blocked your cards and cut off your financial access?"
Jay's blood ran cold. He spun back
toward her, eyes wide, voice breaking. "How the hell did you know that?"
Titi's grin widened as she reached
into her bag. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled out the heirloom, holding it up
so the light caught it. The delicate piece gleamed, cruelly familiar, a
reminder of everything he'd lost.
"Because I was there," she said,
savoring every word. "I like gambling too, Jay… not that anyone knows. I saw it
on the table, recognized it, and bought it out. Now look—your mom's treasure,
right here in my hand."
She dangled it in front of him,
smiling evil, savoring his panic.
Jay's fists clenched, rage and shame
twisting inside him. "You… you're blackmailing me?"
Titi leaned closer, her voice a
blade. "Call it leverage. You keep quiet, you play nice, and maybe I don't tell
mommy dearest what her son really did. Or maybe I let her see it for herself."
Jay's breath came fast, his chest
tight, the weight of her words pressing down like a trap he couldn't escape.
The heirloom glittered between them, a weapon disguised as memory, and for the
first time, he realized just how dangerous Titi really was.
He had already given in, his voice
tight with regret as he invited everyone to the arcade after school. He knew he
was going to regret it, but the heirloom weighed heavy on his mind. He needed
it back, and Titi knew it.
She smiled when she heard the
invitation, her grin sharp as a blade. "I'm coming too," she said, sliding her
bag over her shoulder like she'd already won.
Jay's head snapped toward her. "No.
You're not."
Her eyes gleamed, the kind of look
that made his stomach twist. "If you don't comply," she whispered, leaning
close, "I'll definitely be going to your house after school. Straight to mommy.
Imagine her face when she finds out her precious heirloom was lost in a bet…
after she blocked your cards and cut off your access."
Jay froze, his chest tightening. His
dad would be furious, but his mom—his mom would kill him. He thought twice, the
weight of her threat pressing down like a vice.
Bitterly, he nodded, the defeat
clear in his eyes. "Fine."
Titi leaned back, satisfied, her
smile curling like smoke. She had him trapped, and now he understood why I had
been blazing with anger earlier. Titi wasn't just a rival—she was the devil
from hell, and she had the proof dangling in her hand.
Jay clenched his fists, swallowing
the rage that burned in his throat as he watched her disappear out of sight.
The arcade plan had shifted from fun to survival. He wasn't going for games
anymore—he was going to face Titi, and somehow, he had to get that heirloom
back.