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 Post subject: Megan
 Post Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2009 12:27 pm 
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-8:37AM-

The phone rang.

Megan raised her head, startled. She had a phone. But her phone never rang. Almost no one knew her phone number save for those annoying salespeople.

She quickly pressed 'pause' on the controller, leaped over her Playstation 2 console, half-tripped in her power cord, which instantly killed her Megaman X7 game.

"Ah... crap!" she tip toed around the bag carrying her naginata-jutsu practice armor and dived for the phone.

"Yes! Hello!" she said urgently, almost out of breath from her six meters long escapade. Perhaps she'd better just put her phone in her room instead of her kitchen.

"Oh, mom, it's just you." she said, making a relieved sigh. "Um, no, no, I wasn't waiting for another call. The phone just suddenly rang and I kinda had to cross over to the kitchen to get it before the answering machine went on. How's everyone?"

Her shoulders slumped. There. Her mother was making her go through the 'talk-to-everyone-in-the-whole-house' ritual. Two kid brothers both under 7. Hard enough to carry a conversation with them usually, but now, they fairly yelled in excitement in her ear. She winced, switched over to her 'French-speaking mode' (since she was bilingual, they were not) got on to asking a few of the usual questions, and then her mother was back on the line.

"Oh, I'm fine." she said, obstinately returning to English as she answered her mother's question. Megan had made it clear that she wanted to take advantage of her trip to LA to get decent English immersion. "Yes, yes, I got your letter. Thanks for the check, it really helped."

A 500 US Dollar checks usually helps someone just moves into another country. Megan had been quite surprised at seeing how the money she had all saved up for the past two years had almost half-vanished with all the fees she had to pay now that she was mostly on her own.

"I've met with the UCLA administration and settled everything. I'm due to start tomorrow, in fact." she replied to the next question. "Starts at 9h30... yeess, mom. I have an alarm clock and I've set it to the right time. I won't miss the bus. Yes, of course I took notes of the time they passed by my block... nooo, I am not going to be there at the last minute, I tell you."

"Job? Yes, I met with the dojo manager and tested out some. I was a bit disappointed though. The person is charge of giving the naginata course is actually on vacation. That means I've been hired to actually give a few courses part-time. So, yup, I've got a job."

She bit back an irritated sigh as her mother remonstrated her that a part-time teaching job wouldn't help much. "Okay, wait, stop there. I've been making overture to a High School just out of town. They seem to have an interesting array of art classes... but nothing that goes into using graphical utilities like Adobe Photoshop. I've been preparing a proposal for teaching a night class. It might work."

There came another motherly question. "Yes, mother. I'm eating right. Have to. I can't hang out in restaurants so much, since I don't have that much money... though there was this Chinese restaurant next to work I've been to..."

Her mother made a rebuke, to which she giggled. "Well, I'm going to have to hang up mom. I have a few things to do before heading off to my naginata class... Right, besides, it's a long distance call. You better hang up or you'll really hate your next phone bill."

"Okay. Give me best to everyone, will you? Take care of yourselves. I love you too. Bye." and she hung up.

The young woman brushed some of her black hair behind her ear and sighed. Her mother meant well... but god, she'd take philosophy class over relatives any day. Each time she got into one of these conversations, she felt suddenly smothered but her family's well-meaning questions.

She stood up, tugged her nightshirt back into place and walked up to the PS2 console, which she reconnected. She didn't really want to restart though, so she just took the opportunity to drag her phone to her room, where she wouldn't have to run to get it.

Her apartment was a sparse affair, though she considered it to be a decent little 'nest'. She was on the second floor of a three story apartment building. Her apartment only comprised of a 2 1/2 rooms: a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom (with a shower- no bath).

It had been three weeks since she had come to Los Angeles. Settling so far away from home had been a strange thing. She felt thoroughly small in a bustling city like LA. However, she had to admit to herself it was pretty exhilarating.

She had been a bit challenged at first when faced with speaking the American-accented English... but her three-weeks immersion had really helped her improve. While some people noticed her French Quebeckers accent, she was now quite sure it wasn't as obvious as it was before.

She had her university multimedia classes, her part-time naginata teaching job, a possible computer application teaching job at an high school and a decent place to live in for a foreigner like herself.

"Not bad." she thought out loud. She shut off the television, did the same with her desktop computer, and headed off to shower. Mother knew her well: she WAS a last minute person. She might as well get ready to go to the dojo, even if her class wasn't in another one-hour-and-a-half.

* * *

"Well, that was a fine morning." Megan Sylvester muttered as she walked down the corridors of the UCLA. You'd figure that I'd have had fitted in better than this, she thought, her mood dark. Her first class had been 'History of the medias'. However, what that really stood for was a philosophy class based on how historically the masses were dragged around like sheep by the medias. Megan had found the thought of that so offensive that she had grown disgusted with the class. Still, the teacher also decided to pick an instant dislike of her, or so she thought. At first, it was when she reported in...

* * *

"We are going to have class in two minutes, miss." Mister Dulance had said.

"Yes, I'm part of your group." Megan had answered, looking in her new schedule the secretary had mailed her. "Mister Dulance, second period at 9:30."

He had looked skeptical. "And you would be?"

"Megan Sylvester, sir." she tartly had replied, not liking his obvious disbelief. Her apparent age had betrayed her again! He had looked back, stared at her for a moment, demanded some identification papers, and then grudgingly invited her to take a seat.

* * *

"Paranoid idiot." she mumbled irritably. She was using the off-time she had. The Media History class was the only one she had today, but she was taking the time to get acquainted with the University. She had always liked doing a tour of the school on her first day. She had made it an habit to scour about every corner she could of the teaching establishment she went to so that she'd rarely ever got lost in them. Of course, she was of a mind to think that when you explored, you never got lost.

...though she'd be willing to admit that she didn't know how to get back to the front entry as things stood. That made her chuckle in self-deprecating amusement. Another thing that puzzled her was that she was actually surprised at the general lack of maturity the other students showed. High School had teenagers. College had teenagers becoming adults... But she had expected people in the University to act mostly like adults. Well, I'll amend that. It seems adults are quite capable of acting foolishly anyways. This IS a school. I should have had expected it.

Finally, she made it back to the main entry lobby. She was just down the stairs outside when she spotted three young men lunching on a bench near the entry. One of them just finished up a can of Sprite, dropped it on the sidewalk and made a fun out of crushing it flat... where it remained afterwards after the three started picking up their things, chuckling at some joke one of them made.

Megan made an irritated snort and walked to the crushed can, picked up the thing and threw it into the garbage pail under their noses. Their chatter fell flat at seeing the disgusted look she gave them. She whispered "Imbeciles." before heading off. One of them called her, but she didn't even bother to delay for them. A bus was about to pass and she felt like eating Chinese before going to the dojo to practice.

However, as luck would've have had it, the bus passed the corner of the street before she could get there. She let out yet another irritated sigh and sat down on the bench next to the bus stop. She whipped up from her backpack her sketchbook and began scribbling a tree on the other side of the road. Might as well do something useful for the fifteen minutes the next bus will take to get here.

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