(no subject)
[After this.]
Wednesday:
She doesn't get called out to do on-call tech support duty. It's one of the weird perks of being a sophomore that she hasn't quite adjusted to yet: there are people actually lower on the college food chain than her.
Instead, Mac takes a long shower to get the Deadwood grime off of her and scrubs at her face as she tries to stop crying.
After a while, she gives up. It's relieved crying, she realizes; that's not all bad.
Thursday:
Pretty much all of the jumpiness is gone by the next day, but there's still enough left for Mac to slam the lock home on her door as soon as she hears some frat pledges charging down the hall, yelling at the top of their lungs.
Once she catches herself, she sighs and rolls her eyes, but she doesn't unlock the door. What she does do, though, is turn her back to it and pull on her headphones before she returns to her bio homework.
Friday:
Flyers for Halloween parties are stapled to what seems like every free surface on the entire freakin' campus: Mac thinks she even spots one taped to the ceiling of the computer lab. The few people who ask if she has plans get a wan smile and noncommittal shrug in reply.
It's not like she'd say no, but she's not sure she'd last more than an hour or two. And besides, she's got a computing project due on Monday.
Saturday:
Instead of actually doing said project, Mac spends the entire day digging through college guides and scholarship options at the campus library. Her own copy of U.S. News & World Report's 2008 college issue sprouts Post-Its by the handful.
She tacks up another flyer alongside the ones for the Haunted Halloween Spooktacular: Need A Website? Freelance Web Design Available Now! It has her name and number underneath it.
(More discreetly, there's an anonymous e-mail, sent out to several select individuals that she know'll help it along under the radar, advertising a toolkit -- forty bucks a pop, both Mac and Windows versions available -- to circumvent the firewalls Hearst's slapped up in an effort to halt file sharing traffic.)
When she glances over it, there are more women's colleges on her finished short list than she expected.
Sunday:
To make up for Saturday, she almost has to pull an all-nighter to finish her project.
Monday:
Despite that, it goes off without a hitch.
Tuesday:
After bio class, Mac makes a grocery store run to stock up on food that'll supplement the moderately dismal vegan prospects in the dining hall. On prominent display is the store's rapidly dwindling supply of Halloween candy.
There are cheap costume supplies, too. Devil horns. Pitchforks. Plastic jack o'lanterns. Spray-in hair dye.
Mac spends a full minute with her arms folded, considering the merchandise, before she walks out and heads to another store.
Wednesday:
She didn't ever quite forget how to it, but it takes longer than it used to: mixing the bleach, applying the dye, twisting the plastic around each strand to keep it out of the way. Plus, she doesn't have her own bathroom to use anymore, which makes it even more of a royal pain in the ass.
A few hours later, though, Mac's shaking down her damp hair and combing it out with her fingers, examining it critically.
Her hair's pretty dark. Even after the bleach, the freshly-dyed purple streaks don't stand out a whole lot; definitely not as much as blue or red or green ever did.
But they're there. That counts for something.
Wednesday:
She doesn't get called out to do on-call tech support duty. It's one of the weird perks of being a sophomore that she hasn't quite adjusted to yet: there are people actually lower on the college food chain than her.
Instead, Mac takes a long shower to get the Deadwood grime off of her and scrubs at her face as she tries to stop crying.
After a while, she gives up. It's relieved crying, she realizes; that's not all bad.
Thursday:
Pretty much all of the jumpiness is gone by the next day, but there's still enough left for Mac to slam the lock home on her door as soon as she hears some frat pledges charging down the hall, yelling at the top of their lungs.
Once she catches herself, she sighs and rolls her eyes, but she doesn't unlock the door. What she does do, though, is turn her back to it and pull on her headphones before she returns to her bio homework.
Friday:
Flyers for Halloween parties are stapled to what seems like every free surface on the entire freakin' campus: Mac thinks she even spots one taped to the ceiling of the computer lab. The few people who ask if she has plans get a wan smile and noncommittal shrug in reply.
It's not like she'd say no, but she's not sure she'd last more than an hour or two. And besides, she's got a computing project due on Monday.
Saturday:
Instead of actually doing said project, Mac spends the entire day digging through college guides and scholarship options at the campus library. Her own copy of U.S. News & World Report's 2008 college issue sprouts Post-Its by the handful.
She tacks up another flyer alongside the ones for the Haunted Halloween Spooktacular: Need A Website? Freelance Web Design Available Now! It has her name and number underneath it.
(More discreetly, there's an anonymous e-mail, sent out to several select individuals that she know'll help it along under the radar, advertising a toolkit -- forty bucks a pop, both Mac and Windows versions available -- to circumvent the firewalls Hearst's slapped up in an effort to halt file sharing traffic.)
When she glances over it, there are more women's colleges on her finished short list than she expected.
Sunday:
To make up for Saturday, she almost has to pull an all-nighter to finish her project.
Monday:
Despite that, it goes off without a hitch.
Tuesday:
After bio class, Mac makes a grocery store run to stock up on food that'll supplement the moderately dismal vegan prospects in the dining hall. On prominent display is the store's rapidly dwindling supply of Halloween candy.
There are cheap costume supplies, too. Devil horns. Pitchforks. Plastic jack o'lanterns. Spray-in hair dye.
Mac spends a full minute with her arms folded, considering the merchandise, before she walks out and heads to another store.
Wednesday:
She didn't ever quite forget how to it, but it takes longer than it used to: mixing the bleach, applying the dye, twisting the plastic around each strand to keep it out of the way. Plus, she doesn't have her own bathroom to use anymore, which makes it even more of a royal pain in the ass.
A few hours later, though, Mac's shaking down her damp hair and combing it out with her fingers, examining it critically.
Her hair's pretty dark. Even after the bleach, the freshly-dyed purple streaks don't stand out a whole lot; definitely not as much as blue or red or green ever did.
But they're there. That counts for something.