Kristina shuffled through the classroom door a second after the buzzer sounded.

On time, she thought, and I don't even want to be here.

Bleary-eyed and barely awake, everything was a blur of faces, ironic t-shirts, sweat pants, and bed-heads. She walked past someone who looked like a grown up only because it was standing at the front of the class and wasn't as disheveled as the other seated students as she made her way to the back of the room. A lone, vacant chair behind two other students beaconed her. It looked secluded, comfortable; the perfect place to lay her head down.

The jello shots with her friends on the school night before were still in party mode over her left brow; the tequila stumbled in a drunken stupor at the back of her throat, threatening to lurch into her mouth.

Kristina didn't even know what lured her out of her comfortable bed in the first place to make it to class today and on time - she was on time, right? It was obvious that the jello and tequila needed a day off from thinking too hard, taking notes, and trying to focus. But as a reward for making the effort, Kristina would take it easy and concentrate with her eyes closed - really closed - to keep an imminent migraine at bay; one that could knock her out for the rest of day and provide her with a sufficient excuse for skipping her remaining classes.

I showed up and that's the point, Kristina thought in the warm fold of her arm that she nuzzled her head into; her cheek rested on the cool, laminate table top. The professor's preamble to the course and review of the syllabus lulled Kristina into a timeless, light doze.

Kristina didn't know how many classes she had skipped. She didn't care. It didn't matter. This was the easiest elective she could get a good mark in. She checked; attendance wasn't graded. All she had to do was hand in a couple of assignments, do an open-book midterm and an open-book final and voila. That's all she needed to know to get by.

"'She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water," the professor said aloud. She paused, raised her eyes from the book that she was reading from to ensure that she had captured her students' attention. When she was convinced that she had, she continued, "'She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. 'Time' for her isn't something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.'"

The professor's voice gradually cut through the film of silence that had blocked Kristina's ears. Every word the professor spoke pierced the blackness between Kristina's eyelids and dreamland. Kristina didn't know how long she had been out, but she was awake now. Really awake.

The rhythm of the professor's voice, the sureness of her words, how firm she stood in the statement, felt like it was being spoken to Kristina. About Kristina.

That's so me.

Kristina raised her head. Weeks into the semester and Kristina realized that she was seeing this professor for the first time. She had eyes that drew Kristina into them. A sturdy chin that was slightly raised but not to the level of being snobbish, just high enough to assess every aspect of her surroundings with care. Her posture was erect like a ballerina in first position. She sat on the edge of the desk with her shoulders gracefully back, one foot on the floor, the other raised; even her thighs looked powerful spread apart like that. The desk itself looked like it had submissively lent it's back for her to sit on.

"That was written by Roman Payne," the professor said as she closed the book, "a prolific novelist and biographer who had an exceptional ability to take literary snapshots of other people's lives and put them in words. Having lived through two world wars, he wrote biographies about Greta Garbo, Dostoevsky, Gandhi, General Mao, just to name a few." - the professor pauses - "Please don't all look at me with blank stares at once.

"Google them", said the professor, writing the four historical figure's names on the whiteboard. "So today we're going to explore the human condition, identity, and consciousness. Any thoughts about Payne's quote?"

No hands went up. No voluntary opinions were blurted. Students looked down at their notebooks, up at the clock at the front of the classroom, out the window. The proverbial sound of crickets chirping was the only commentary the professor received until a tired and resigned voice finally said, "Wildness...passion...knows nothing of borders..cares nothing for rules..."

The professor couldn't tell who had spoken, she just knew that the voice had come from the back of the room.

Kristina continued, "People - some people who believe they care about you, like your parents or siblings - can see these things, this way of being as flaws. Qualities that make someone, especially a young woman susceptible to recklessness, getting hurt, or risks, like falling for the wrong person. You know that kinda fall that's so hard you never quite get up? Well, I don't see it that way. I think these qualities make me...uh, I mean, make a person feel, like...I don't know...alive."

The professor didn't strike Kristina as someone who could be easily moved. She seemed so reticent, cultured; she had probably been tenured at the College for years. Although the professor maintained a guarded air, Kristina detected a hint of surprise on the professor's face. Kristina thought she saw a glimmer of a smile in the professor's eyes, her brow twitch, and perhaps the corner of her mouth curved up a bit - barely noticeable - but a bit.

Now that the professor had found the source of the speaker, Kristina straightened up in her seat. She ran her fingers through her hair for the dual purpose of making herself more presentable now that the professor's eyes were on her and also to do something with her hands which suddenly felt awkward on the end of her wrists. Every inch about Kristina felt awkward now that the professor held her eye contact.

"That's the most postmodern interpretation I've ever heard in all my years of teaching," the professor commented.

A third into the semester and it was the first time the professor had ever seen this student. She would have remembered her if she had attended class regularly or came at all. There was an irreverence about her - even a bit of an attitude - which reminded the professor of someone she used to know in her own College days. Someone the professor had known. very. well.

"Do you care to elaborate?" the professor asked Kristina. Yes, the professor would have definitely noticed this student the first time she walked into her class.

A sea of heads turned to look at Kristina who felt like a thousand eyes were trained on her. The most penetrable of them all being the professor's. Right. Through. Her.

Kristina shook her head, no, and lowered her eyes.

"Well, I think what you said is worthy of comment," the professor answered Kristina's refusal. "Anyone else?"

A hand raised in the second row whose commentator piggy-backed on what Kristina had said, followed by another comment by another student until a wave of discussion buoyed the class to the end of the period. Kristina remained silent through the rest of the class but didn't put her head down to rest again. She felt too light-headed and mildly pleased with herself to do anything. The professor had noticed her.

The class ended with the swirling energy of awakened, young minds and shared opinions that discussed, dissected, validated, and debated. Chair legs scraped back, papers rustled, backpack zippers opened and closed as students nudged past each other out the door to their next lesson. Kristina didn't know whether to pack up fast enough and get lost among the flow of exiting students, or to linger behind so she could be in the professor's presence just a minute longer than everyone else.

Kristina managed to be the last student to head out the door on the heels of a sneakered boy and just as Kristina's foot touched the threshold, she heard the professor say, "Thanks for joining us today."

And when Kristina so boldly looked over her shoulder into the professor's eyes, very aware that they were the only two people in the room now…

'Wha', was the only complete thought Kristina could manage to form in her mind as she turned away and hurried down the hall.