2

My head hung down as I stroll through the busy hallway. People pushing and running into each other.

It's intriguing to hear what everyone's saying. Some call it eavesdropping, but actually it's just because these people talk too loud. I've already walked pass a group of boys leaning against their lockers, scouting out girls from afar. They whistled as a group of cheerleaders walked by. The cringy couples were all over each other, touching and kissing. Nobody knows why no staff member has kicked them out yet. I could hear the most disgusting things said between the both of them. Only thinking of it makes me shiver. Sometimes I think people like them talk that loud on purpose to make us single people feel even more lonely.

Then there's the group of emo boys I walked by. They were quiet though.

Unlike them, the pretty blondes are rather talkative today.

The pretty blondes, most feared in the university. I don't see them a lot because they take the acting course, so they're mostly at the other side of the building. They'll only come to the law building to find someone.

Speaking of the devils.

"Oh, what do we have here?"

It was a waste of time lifting up my head to see who it was, so I didn't. I just kept walking, eyes glued to the floor.

Multiple footsteps followed behind me.

She must have her pack behind her. Her musketeers to help her get revenge.

That's what I get when I accidentally kissed her boyfriend. You can't blame me, he told me that he's single.

Someone tugged on my bag, pulling me back. Stopping in my tracks, I take a deep breath in and spin around towards the three blondies. Cheryl stood the nearest, right in front of me. Her pets behind her.

Her light brown eyes looked me up and down as she chewed away at her bubblegum, twisting her blonde strands around her finger.

I sigh, clearly not in the mood, "What is it, Cheryl?"

"You'd look hot if you just fix..." She gestures to my entire body, head to toe, "...all of that, you know?"

"Zach thinks otherwise." I grinned cheekily.

The pretty blondes gasp.

Cheryl places her hand on her chest.

"Get my boyfriend's name out of your little dirty mouth, you whore!" She squealed, "Ugh!-- You know, I tried being nice and give you some beauty tips! I was considering to let you join us. I'm looking for a pretty face."

I fold my arms over my chest. "Is that all? I really need to get to class." I lied, trying to come up with an excuse.

"Class?" She raised her eyebrow, "Hmm, us girls too. Why don't we walk along?"

"I take law, Cheryl. You're not in this building--"

Before I could finish, her puppets started giggling as she swung her arm around my shoulder.

My eyes widen as she pulls me into her side, weirdly stroking my hair, and started to walk.

Carol and Bethany following behind us.

"Oh nonsense!" She smiled cheekily, "I really want to change, Victoria. Let's be friends, hm?"

"No thanks. I have mine already."

I could sense the anger and annoyance radiating off her. The silence made me a bit paranoid after that.

I made sure her friends are still behind us, so that they're not planning anything while Cheryl distracts me.

They were still there, but with concerned looks on their faces.

Bethany shook her head at me with wide eyes, almost like I did something wrong.

Carol just stared at me.

Once turning back, looking forward in my path, that's when Cheryl struck.

I immediately yelped a "No!" out as I got nudged into a room, the door already 'coincidentally' open.

I should've seen it coming.

They would never not do anything-- last week, they took my towel that was draped over the shower when I used the campus' bathroom after a quick choir practice.

My clothes were sticking onto my body like glue.

Worst of all, it was a white T-shirt.

It does not go well with a wet body.

"Come on, Cheryl!" I yell, banging on the door she locked. "This isn't funny anymore!"

I could only hear her evil laugh, and the other two girls too.

They must've gotten bored by my complaining and banging since I heard the clicking of their heels disappearing.

I lean my forehead on the door, groaning.

How the hell did they even get the keys to lock it.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel anxious. This room isn't a claustrophobic person's best friend.

An awful smell made it's appearance, causing me to turn around. My heart sunk as I look around me, now only realizing where I am.

The janitor's room.

Old buckets with dirty water, rusted iron racks with a lot of cleaning supplies. A dirty broom in the corner.

Something certainly died in here.

I tried banging again, but the chatters were too loud, until all the voices died outside.

Nobody heard me.

Everyone was off to class or somewhere else.

A sick feeling in my gut washed over me. The thought of never getting out of here scares me, but I'm just overexaggerating.

Someone will sometime soon notice they need something in here. Anytime soon Iris will notice I'm missing.

I shouldn't overthink this, but I can't help it. It's scary being alone in this tiny, dim-lighted room.

I don't know how many minutes has gone by, but I've been sitting here at the corner long enough that my legs started getting numb.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside the door walking by.

In a flash, I jump up and start banging on the door, my knees almost giving in from the numbness.

"Hey! I'm in here!"

Relief hits me once the doorknob started turning, and keys fiddled with the keyhole.

Cheryl left the keys in, that's strange.

The door slowly opens.

I step back so that there's space to leave.

My eyes trail up the pair of boots in front of me, until eyes met mine.

I never thought in a million years I'd see her again.

The green eyed woman speaks, "Coffee girl?"

Yup, definitely remember that voice.

"You have a nickname for me?" I awkwardly reply.

A small smirk forms on the familiar face's lips before nodding to the side.

Snapping back into reality, I swiftly exit the room.

The woman places her bags down and closed the door behind me. I took a deep breath in, thankful that I'm not in a cramped room anymore.

"Thank you." I sigh in relief, "I don't think I could have survived with that smell any much longer."

She picked up her bags and looked up at me whilst she did. "What where you doing in there anyway?"

"Oh, ya know... I went to grab a broom for the janitor and the wind probably blew the door shut.

"Did the wind lock it too?" She furrowed her eyebrows, "I taught psychology before this, kid. I know you're lying, no?"

My eyes wonder to her bags hanging each side of her shoulders. Not only that, but she's carrying a cardboard box filled with random stuff.

What's the odds that the woman from yesterday teaches here.

"Uh, do you need help?" I point at the box.

She nodded. "If you don't mind. Do you know where office B32 is? I'm still trying to find my way around this place."

My heart sank. I firstly looked at her blankly, wondering if I heard that right.

I haven't been in there for ages.

The old office of Mrs. Rivera.

My mother.

After the passing, another teacher took over her place. That teacher left, and now it looks like it's this woman's place now.

I remember after every class, Iris and I would hide away there while my mom was busy in meetings at the meeting room.

Everybody loved her, she was the best Economic lecturer ever.

She had her PhD degree, won a lot of rewards too.

Her name was everywhere around the Economic building.

And here- and- there you'd hear other professors and lecturers from the Art, Computer sciences, Health science, Biology, and even law buildings talk about her too.

I'm known as the dead professor's daughter.

"Sure, I can take you there if you'f like?" I offer.

She nods again. "That would be helpful."

I flash a friendly smile before taking this new lecturer down the hallway.

It was going to be a far walk.

It was at the top of the campus building.

No student really went up there because it was mostly just the staff's hallways.

We'd go there for tutoring, if we have personal questions to ask to the lecturers, or just if we need to have a regular talk about an assignment or task we don't understand.

We call it the 'Hallway of Doom', you never know who--by who, I mean which strict, scary professor--will pop out of their office and capture you.

"So, professor...?" I imply, waiting for her to give me a last name.

"Garcia." She said, "I'll be taking over Spanish, and I'm expecting to see you there."

I frown. "Oh, why?"

"Yesterday, your Spanish was very good."

I chuckle, "Well, Professor Garcia, I do actually take Spanish as a bonus class."

We walk next to each other up the staircase. "Give me a warning what I have to deal with."

"The class?" I hum, "Well, the boys are definitely childish. They throw paper airplanes around, acting like they're eight years old. Some don't do that well, because, and I quote, 'It's just a side activity, what am I ever going to do with a stupid language: speak Spanish at my job one day?'"

She groans, "If someone said that, why do they take the class then?"

"To get points. Every bonus activity, extra class, gives us points at the end of the year that we can show off when we get a job." I told.

We got to the upper floor and immediately, I saw the head of Graphic Design, Dr. Ackermann. Glad I'm not studying his subject. Rumors say it's the hardest path to go in university.

Plus, some say he likes young girls.

The deeper we walked down the hallway, the more stares we got from the other professors passing along.

Finally, we arrived at the destination. The wooden door I haven't entered in a long time.

Professor Garcia placed her box down, crouching down as she searched for her key.

My mom's key.

I continue staring blankly at the door before hearing it open.

She pushed it open, revealing her new office.

Straight forward as you enter is the wooden desk with a black leather chair behind it. Behind that, the back wall, is completely made out of glass, looking over the entire campus ground.

Shaking my head lightly, I look down to her box and grab it.

She spins on her heels towards me. "You don't have to."

"It's your first day, right professor?" She nods curiously. "I just want to make it welcoming and help out. Plus, I have a few minutes before my class starts."

I say that, but I really just want to see the office again. I missed the pretty view.

Professor tilts her head to the side with an eyebrow raised up. "I have a feeling you're every teacher's class pet. Is that going to happen to me too?"

A short giggle left my lips with a smile left behind. "I love chatting and helping, what can I say?" I shrug.

"Oh, trust me. I knew since yesterday."

Before I could reply, my eyes scanned the office.

Unconsciously, my feet kept walking behind her to her desk, but my head was twisted to the side, staring everything down.

At the corner from my eye, a specific object caught my attention.

I quickly place the box down where she's busy placing down the bags on her desk, before I did a double take at the object.

My jaw clenched and unclenched as I clicked what it was.

The only thing I don't understand is why my mom's old replacement still kept it and if Professor Garcia's also going to keep it.

Technically, I could grab this any moment and run. It belongs to my family after all.

A voice came from behind me. "You're staring at that typewriter for a while now. It's interesting seeing such vintage one in the late 20's. That must've been made somewhere in the 1940's"

I smiled softly to myself, my eyes not leaving the old machine on the shelf.

"It's my mom's actually, and yes, it is weird still seeing it." I reply softly.

I turn around slowly to the professor, catching her already staring at me.

Though, it's like something on her face changed. She had this look in her eyes that I haven't seen since the day at the coffee shop.

I didn't know such an intimidating woman like her could show such sympathy like this.

Her eyebrows slowly turned into a frown as her emerald green eyes looked into mine.

I smiled up at her softly.

"You're Victoria Rivera," she stated.

I was surprised how soft and reassuring her voice is. Not as surprised by the fact that she knows my name. Although, it's more my mom she knows of. Her accident was all over the news after all.

I smile weakly, "One and only."

"I'm sorry for your loss-"

Professor got cut off as my phone alarm started going off. Sighing, I reach into my pocket and get it out, looking at my reminder that I have to get going to class.

"Thank you, professor." I quickly look up at her and smile politely, "I have to get to class."

All she did was nod before I rushed out of her office, quickly glancing at the typewriter as I do.

It's strange how similar Professor Garcia is to my mother.

My mother would always drink black coffee, then I'd just call it gross. Professor's wearing these high heels, the exact same color and length that my mom always did. They both look intimidating, but they're actually secretly a softy deep down. My mom also had green eyes like professor's, but a lighter green like mine.

I can't tell for sure if professor's a softy yet, or not. All I know is that she is scary.

Kind, but scary.