Do you want to know the best thing about universities abroad? Here, you only get to choose what general education subjects you wish to take; you could even take none as long as you get the required number of credits. Meanwhile, look at the beloved Philippines and their mandatory twelve general education subjects already taught in high school and elementary. They have their pros, but for me, it is but an unnecessary use of time in college. That was my initial goal as to why I strived to get a scholarship in Saint-Louise in the first place.

But here I am, on the brink of darkness, struggling to stay awake from the boring Business lecture of our professor. Thank the heavens that I sat a bit away from the spotlight, but either way, I wanted to learn, so no sleeping in class for this faggot.

The classroom set-up is so different from what I am used to: there’s a platform in front of what I estimate is a 100-meter-squared room engrossed in maroon and gold, the university colors. Above the platform is a vast smart board that the professors utilize for their slide presentations.  The wooden seats are gradually elevated row-wise, like an amphitheater, facing the platform. Each is divided by a long, curved marble table that spans from side to middle. There are three wide aisles, one in the middle and two on the sides, to cater to the hundreds of students that enrolled in the class.

Although, it may not be the peak season for the course, because, well . . . only 20 enrolled in Business 101 for this semester. Some, I believe, retook the class because their professor gave them a GPA of 0.00 after failing to provide her with their final project.

Oh, and I forgot to mention one thing: that professor is the very same professor who shot their hopes of advancing to the next course.

“Geez, you also find Mrs. Hemmington boring?”

I took a side eye to the whereabouts of that feminine voice, and it turned out she was by my side. Probably she was late in the class, because she proceeded to fix her bag and put on some lip tint while using her phone as her mirror. She has so much life in her make-up-bombarded face. She wears bright pastel blue eyeshadow and long false lashes adorned with mascara that is so black it speaks elegance. I like her.

“Boring?” I replied. “I think you should say ‘obnoxious,’ honey.” A smirk on my face seems to satisfy her.

“Oh, my,” she said. “By the way, I love your outfit; seems like a magnet for hot girls.”

“Oh, dear, I only get a boner for hot guys,” I jested. I extended my hand for a potential handshake. “Arthur Seymour, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Roxanna Caseys, Roxie for short; the pleasure is mine.” She extended her hand adorned with long white nails and shook my feeble hands. “I love your vibe; we should be friends.”

“Certainly.”

“Mr. Seymour, Mr. Caseys, please direct your conversation outside my premises, if you please.” The glare from Mrs. Hemmington’s eyes made me fix my seat, but I think the same is not true for the next girl though. Wait . . . did she say “mister”? Or am I hearing things?

“It’s Miss Caseys, Mrs. Hemmington.”

Mrs. Hemmington clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You are still recorded in the legal papers as Roshan Caseys, and I will stick with that unless you could provide me a birth certificate that says ‘Roxanna Caseys.’ Until then, you are considered Mister Caseys.”

“Suit yourself; I’m dropping this class.” She cat-walked her way out of the classroom. A loud thud was heard at the back of the room while Mrs. Hemmington, unfazed, continued the discussion. Students compressed together as they talked about what happened just now.

Geezers, it’s the first day of the semester, and I get to witness some action. What more should I expect?

The clock struck 10, and I made my way to the cafeteria, which—well, you guessed it—was on the first floor of the Business building. With the elevator under repair, I went on to walk the damn stairs. I should keep extra clothes on hand if I were to battle this non-living hell of a monster.

At 1:30 in the afternoon I have an appointment with the Public Information to have my ID created. Maybe I should ditch it and call in sick since I’m already a wet mess. I don’t want to look haggard in my ID if I were to stay for four years here.

As I walked down to the second floor, I saw a familiar figure sitting on the stairs, her head on the wall.

“Roxie?”

As I approached her, I saw in her hand what looked like a stick of vape, that kind of electronic cigarette where you only need a certain liquid to use, inhale, and voila, smoke goes out and up.

“You’re also gonna hate me, don’t you?” Her once bright blue eyes felt dead and eerie as her staring emptily at nothingness disturbed me as if she was zoning out.

“Hate you? More like admire you.” I sat beside her, aiming to hug her feelings out. “Consent to hug?”

Her smile was the answer, and I hugged her tightly. “I could not do what you did in Business class,” I spoke. “All I could do was shut up and follow like Marie Antoinette to the guillotine. Meanwhile, here you are, fighting for what you want and never sorry for it.”

Tears ran down her face. I grabbed a napkin from my pocket and wiped it out on her face. “Geez, all I wanted was for people to recognize me that I am a fucking woman. Oh, sure, I have a dick hanging between my legs, but that’s not who I am. Oh, sure, I can’t make a child like an oven baking a loaf of bread, but hello, I felt trapped in this shitty body that I have. And what, imply that I should be acting like a man?”

“Welcome to the LGBTQIA+ club, my dear.” I chuckled. “It happens. To tell you this: Once upon a bright summer of junior high school days, I was outed by a stupid guy who had always picked on me ever since the beginning of humanity. What did I do? I cried because people started bullying me for who I am. Now, look where they are. Some of them are crying ‘Wolf!’ because they can’t provide for the families they created.

“And here I am, standing strong in college. As for that son of a bitch, I have no idea where he is now. But, if I ever see him, I’ll prove him he’s a dick with a dick-sized brain.”

Her laughter was all I needed to confirm she was now happy. “Well, maybe he might be struggling to work now with his family, I suppose. But I’m glad you never saw him again.”

I looked at my watch, and it screamed 10:06. “Hey, Roxie, wanna go grab a snack together? We could find hot guys by the side. My treat.”

“Deal. I have preferences, though, and we’ll talk about it on our way.”

“Yes, queen.”

The university cafeteria was in no way what I expected; it was its own vast hall that caters to thousands, if not hundreds, of students. Its golden accent reminded me of how extravagant and regal a university—no, a palace—is supposed to be. There are maroon chairs and tables scattered throughout the whole cafeteria, each with its own guests of six or more. The counter is spread out from wall to wall, with 20 people administering the savory food and more chefs in the kitchen preparing the best dishes they could ever make. I could hear the dishes clattering and the students laughing and talking. The smell of the food is roaming in the air, and it almost makes my stomach rumble in hunger. I couldn’t help but be amazed at how a simple cafeteria can be so alive.

My, it is a well-maintained cafeteria. It’s a good thing that there are no bad guys on the radar, or there’ll be a stampede in here, just like in the movies that I’ve watched.

Roxie ordered a soda float and a hamburger. I ordered a protein bar and a matcha coffee.

“Oh, so you like matcha coffee, too? The Espresso Machine’s opening soon; I know its owner and I can give you a free, exclusive pass to one. A beta customer, if you can call it like that.” Roxie said, twirling the straw in her soda float.

“The Espresso Machine? What a small world; I was eyeing for the barista job they are advertising.” I munched on a slice of protein bar covered in white chocolate. I washed my mouth with a cup of mixed matcha coffee that was badly mixed, so much so that I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t help but be disgusted at this monstrous thing. “This matcha coffee is not my thing. I liked that one made by The Espresso, to be honest.”

“I know, right? They just go with what is the fad and made a cheapskate version of The Espresso’s.”

“Cheapskate? How much is a cup of matcha coffee in The Espresso anyways?”

“7 loonies,” I shot a glare of surprise at her; I almost threw the matcha coffee right at her face.

“Holy crap,” I proceeded to get my phone and went to check the conversion of 7 Canadian dollars to Philippine pesos. I felt my eyes went out of my head as it showed 287.70 Philippine pesos. “Holy shit, that’s worth three days’ allowance!”

“I know, but it’s worth the money. Anyways, you also said you have an ID appointment with the PIO later, and we don’t have classes until 3. So . . . I’ve been thinking, let’s go to the mall nearby and stop by at The Espresso to get two cups of matcha coffee. I’m craving one, too.”

I never heard each word she said clearly as I sunk into the bottom of my heart. I remember Auntie Clara’s generosity a while ago. Did Auntie Clara actually throw three hundred pesos at me like it’s nothing? I felt sick in my stomach as I realized how much that coffee was. “I don’t think I deserve such a thing.”

“Hello, Earth to Arthur. Can you hear me?” I was jolted from my subconscious state and felt puzzled. “There you are. Come on; we got some time to kill and some money to burn.”