Chapter 121: Not Talking Hockey

ZOYA

Two weeks later.

My biology professor is a tiny, gray-haired woman with a voice that could put a person to sleep. She just drones on and on, barely taking a breath, and certainly not inviting questions or discussion about the topic at hand.

Honestly, I am not a math or science person by nature, so this would be boring even if someone really amazing was teaching. I front-loaded the last of the tier 1 math and science I needed into this semester in hopes I could get it all out of the way and then focus on the fun stuff next semester. Now I am almost regretting it, but c'est la vie.

In order to get through what I am sure could be classified as cruel and unusual punishment; I doodle. It's just a loose portrait rendering of my mom, who I miss more than I expected since being in the States.

The guy sitting next to me leans over and whispers, "That's really good."

I turn and catch his eye. "Thanks. Just doodling."