NEWBORN: Book One of the Newborn Trilogy Read Online Free PDF

restored.
    I’m one of those girls that must hand dry
their hair after every shower. Sorry – I just am. I hate, hate, hate walking around with wet hair. Makes me feel cold.
Standing over the sink, I gaze at myself as I dry. Once finished, I
wrap a towel around my waist and head back into my room.
    Dressing hurriedly – for now it’s just after
9:00 – I find my backpack and a few notepads. I’m almost to the
door when I realize I’ve forgotten something. Turning back, I find
a bottle of perfume. Spraying myself liberally, I breathe through
my nose. Perfect.
    I’m gone.
    But then I’m back.
    It’s raining outside and I forgot my
umbrella. Despite my relatively early start, time is becoming of
the essence. Running down the stairs now, I push open the door and
spread the umbrella wide, just managing in time before my newly
dried hair is drenched. They should really have an awning.
    Walking under my umbrella, I bring my class
schedule up on my phone. First up, English 371: Victorian Era
Literature. This should be a fun class. Lots of poems and short
stories and such. Trying to remember the right building and the
right room, I go to the dining hall for breakfast.
    As though on cue, once I’m outside the dining
hall my stomach lurches painfully. So painfully I grab myself in
surprise. Without thinking I turn away. No breakfast for me this
morning. All it took was a whiff of eggs and batter for my stomach
to almost mutiny on me.
    * * *
    The classroom is fairly typical, with a
podium and white board at one end and a load of chairs facing them.
I’m the first one here. I stop in the doorway, staring at the
plaque beside the door. Yes, this is the right room.
    My gaze falls to the many empty seats. A big
decision awaits me. Wherever I sit will not only determine where I
sit for the remainder of the term, but may determine my grade. I
read somewhere students who sit in the front get the best grades.
Those in the back? The worst. Refusing to get too hung up on this,
I choose a seat in the middle by a window overlooking a green
lawn.
    Setting my umbrella on the sill, I sit down,
regretting I didn’t bring some water or tea. My body could use
fluid right now if not food. Attempting to distract myself, I gaze
into the rain. It doesn’t work. I’m brought back with a stab of
nausea in my stomach. I wonder if I should see a doctor. Maybe
somebody can prescribe me anxiety medication.
    The door opens and another student walks in.
I check my watch. It’s five till. People are cutting it late. But
the stream picks up, and before long the room is filled with the
creaking sounds of furniture as people take their seats. I wonder
if I’m the only lowerclassmen here – this is a 300 level course
after all.
    Finally, the door opens and a short, grey,
older gentleman walks in with a folder under his arm. He waves
somewhat awkwardly to the class at large on his way to the podium.
Once there, he looks at the class over the top of his glasses.
“No,” he says. “This – this isn’t right. Everybody up!”
    Blinking in surprise, I gaze around. Everyone
is looking as surprised as I feel.
    “Up, up!” the professor says. “Get all of
your chairs in a circle. Spread the flotsam to the side, there you
go now,” he adds, as one boy gets up and starts pulling his chair
to the side. “Easy does it!”
    In a matter of minutes we’re all up and
replanted, this time in a circle. Leaving the podium behind, the
professor pulls up his own chair and gestures for two of the
students to spread apart. Without hesitation he takes the space
between them and sits, a smile making his lined face more so.
    “That’s better,” he says. “I like this
arrangement – a circle of chairs. Seems to make students more
inclined to talk!” The class nods along with him, waiting for
what’s to come. “My name is Robert Renaus. I’m the Chair of the
English department here at Evergreen. You may call me either
Professor Renaus or Dr. Renaus.