The dorm hallway was quiet, lit with a warm afternoon light from the end of the hall. The walls and ceiling were off-white with a green carpet that ran with blue strips up the sides. Some dust particles were visible lazily drifting about in the sunlight spilling from the recreation room into the corridor. Sounds of muffled laughter and talking could be heard through the window of the rec room as people were going about campus. There was a slight creak and a flash of reflection as the end door opened, and a short girl shuffled through. There was a soft little bump as it closed behind her. She made her way up the hall head down, arms crossed in front of her over a binder. Her hair, a straight soft dirty blonde was obscuring her face, and thick black rimmed glasses were just visible underneath. She wore a black T-shirt, and soft brown cotton pants. She walked in small steps, seeming to even dislike making the whisper of pants and little taps from flip-flops in the hall. There was a thump in one of the rooms and she twitched her head just the slightest and tried to compromise her desire to go unnoticed for speed. It was eyes, they upset her. Especially men's. Every time she noticed another guy giving her a once over it reminded her of that night in high school.
She reached her door, which had no smiley face with a name adorned it like the others. She had thrown that out just as fast as you please. She removed one hand from the binder and reached into her pocket for the little key to her haven. She fumbled it, and it fell from her grasp. A momentary panic struck her chest as she watched the golden metal twist in the air until it dropped on to the carpet and bounced onto her right foot. It was a little cold on her sensitive skin and not wholly unpleasant. She reached down and retrieved it and stared at where it was. Her feet had never concerned her before, she had always been most comfortable in flip-flops as opposed to closed shoes. Recently she had learned that to some people they are more than just a way to get around but something she never expected; attractive. It had started earlier in the week and the memories flashed in her mind's eye in practically an instant.
- - - She remembered the first day (Monday) - - -
"My name's Tricia..." She said reluctantly as it was eventually her turn in the circle to make her introduction. It was her floor's initial icebreaker the day after moving in. Tricia was lucky enough to get a double room for the price of a single. There were two beds and two desks, one on each side of the room. Each desk had a tube light above it and a little square mirror behind a slide panel. The wall opposite the door was almost completely taken up by a good sized window, the blinds retracted up. She was unpacking her few cardboard boxes when a rap came on the door. She was greeted by the R.A. He was a fit guy, in a white polo and khaki shorts with a generic baseball cap. He insisted that she come to the meeting to meet her new neighbours. So, Tricia found herself in this circle of twenty people, about half male she found, which just increased her anxiety. She slinked in, arms across her satchel and took a seat between two females, who were kind enough to her, but seemed to have just been bickering. The one on her left was a thin girl with chin length dyed red hair, tamed slightly out at the bottom. She wore black shirt/jeans, spike bracelets and bangles. The girl on the right was quite short, wider set with long unkempt brown hair in a grey hoodie. Everyone was supposed to give their name and something about themselves to share.
"...I draw." She muttered. She did rather well too, specializing in anatomy. She could memorize how flesh and muscle flowed and stretched in movement and pose. The difficult positions of a human torso while bent, or taught while reaching upward were once a challenge, but one she surpassed. She even designed clothes from time to time after drawing the bare model underneath. Her aunt was working in clothing design and suggested she gave it a try, to which she found an artist of frightening potential. So what was once Tricia's favourite pastime became a segway into her career choice. Not necessarily design, but something in art. Her drawings never featured faces anymore though, and the males she drew much less were usually nothing more than a back, or arms, or chest. Nothing below the waist.
The R.A., being used to detecting people's body language could tell in an instant that she was an intensely introverted, closed person. He knew a few tricks to try to draw them out from a few years in training for counsellor.
"That's awesome!" He exclaimed with a smile, trying to make eye contact, "Can we see some of your artwork?" He kept lowering his head to try and catch her eyes. Tricia hesitated, then set her satchel on the ground, unclipped the hooks with slightly shaking hands. Everyone was watching her take out some loose sheets with sketches of bodies and hand them to her right. The shorter girl took them and thumbed through them unceremoniously then held them out to her right without looking. The guy next to her took them and took a bit more time, mostly looking over the female works and snickering with his buddy at the breasts. As the drawing went around gasps and impressed mutterings of her peers took over the previous silence, and Tricia found it hard not to smile a little. It was rare she had a source of pride and whenever she did it was a rare moment of an irresistible grin.
The R.A. was waiting for this and knew he made the right move. He watched her face blush red and hoped she would make some comments on her works, when there was a sound of a camera shutter. Tricia looked over to see one of the guys with his phone out, having just took a picture of one of her drawings. He regarded the sketch a bit longer, then passed it on. Tricia looked at him, wondering why he snapped a photo of only that page. Perhaps it was the best of the lot, and she'd have a look later to see what she did right. She kept peering at him through her hair, quite curious now. He was tall, in a toque and striped long sleeve shirt. He seemed to be almost as uncomfortable as she was, avoiding the others' eyes. When he passed it to the girl to his right - a girl with a black ponytail and ample bosom mostly exposed in a very revealing tank top - Tricia noticed he only stole a glance at her chest once while she was distracted with the pages. He was slyly watching her foot which was covered in a white ankle sock and silver anklet. She had it propped up on her left knee and was waving and flexing it absentmindedly. There was just enough grey dirt marks on the bottom to see the shape. It was quite close to his arm and Tricia would have bet her best set of pencils that he wanted to touch it.
When it came time for him to make his introduction he rose and said his name was Jack. Apparently he dabbled in photography, but mostly working in engineering. He had taken an IT course before and passed with flying colours, but came back to take an art course hoping it would give a fresh perspective on his photography. There wasn't much response as he lowered back into his seat, and the girl he was watching before rose to introduce herself.
The papers were all back to Tricia now. She put them away and waited for another few minutes until the group was disbanded and encouraged to meet back here for a little party that night. She of course knew she wouldn't attend, but instead stayed in her room and decided to find the photographed piece. After locking her door she lay the satchel on her bed and withdrew the papers. Tricia turned on the desk overhead light and sat in the chair. She flipped through the pages, seeing each one with a new eye. Being used to finishing it with the artist's perspective and archiving it she hadn't really had the mental perspective other than her Aunt to view her works. She had a new appreciation for each muscle and pose done skillfully. This series of sketches were based from yoga asanas she had found on the net. A few pages of woman's yoga practices; upward facing dog, camel, tree, and then the boat. She knew that this had to be the one. The perspective had the woman's soles foremost in the image, well shaded and detailed. Yet again Tricia was confused as to what his attraction was to this kind of thing, but could now appreciate how well they were formed. She put the papers back together and tapped them into flush order. Turning off the light and crawling into bed she wondered what the first project they'd be assigned in class would be ... then drifted off into sleep.
- - - She remembered the next few days - - -
Tuesday through to Thursday was less interesting than Tricia expected art-wise, but despite the disappointment she found a new hobby. Tricia entered her new classroom the first day to find it full of scarred and animation desks. They were in rows of four on each side of the room, two back to back each direction. She took the far right corner, finding the punk girl named Melanie from the meeting in her aisle across the room looking grumpy. Tricia was glad to find that since they were about shoulder height the desks were very concealing. The office chairs looked very comfortable, but it made a squeak when she sat upon it. She got up and tried the other seat and found it silent, so she swapped them.
Everyone slowly trickled in over the next few minutes and took their seats among strangers and mumbled greetings to each other. Artists can be very socially stunted to begin with, and a group of them meeting can be very awkward. Her class seemed to be about four males and six females. Across the room in her aisle the red haired girl was sitting back flicking at her mp3 player. Tricia pulled out pencils, white erasers, charcoal, a slew of pastels, the works. She wanted to be prepared to fully seize this opportunity to perfect her craft. She ran her hand across the thick plastic over the back light, and looked at some doodles made on the wood around it. Someone had made a Kilroy near the top, either meaning this thing is old or someone was caught in sepia.
A big figure silently came around the empty station to her right and dropped into the seat with a creak. Tricia pulled back a little reactively, then noticed it was Jack. He gave a quick look her way, then back to his desk. A part of her was impressed how his eyes didn't rake over her body like most guys, and she relaxed a little. Everyone was pulling their chairs to the middle vertical aisle to better see the instructor walk in and begin to speak. It was a stern looking woman in her early forties, auburn hair in a tight bun and white turtleneck. She had a very efficient way of moving, with quick conservative gestures.
