Hurricane Days by Renee J. Lukas

weltanschauung .”
    “Gesundheit,” Carol muttered under her breath.
    I smiled, glancing over at her. Film Appreciation followed the Production class. So today I took the opportunity to sit a little closer to the girl I thought I might have something in common with.
    Dr. Gentry continued, “You’ll note the rape scene was clearly a metaphor for his view of society out of control.”
    “Oh, please.” Carol sighed loudly.
    “Yes, in the back.” He pointed at Carol.
    “Well,” she snapped. “I think that’s bullshit. Not every rape scene is a metaphor. Sometimes it’s purely gratuitous.”
    Some of the class rumbled with comments, while others chuckled. Dr. Gentry tried to quiet them. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion. However, I do believe it’s more complicated than that. Anyone else?” He turned his dismissive face away from her and scanned the class.
    I was completely outraged, looking at Carol, who, seemingly undaunted, was sipping a soda. She didn’t notice, but I was studying her with the intensity of someone who longed for a kindred spirit. Deep down, I was always outraged when women’s voices were dismissed, because I suppose I saw myself as someone whose voice was always quieted at home.
    When class was over, I approached Carol as she was gathering her books. “He completely disregarded what you had to say,” I said. “I think you had a very valid point.”
    At that moment, the bags under Carol’s eyes seemed to vanish, and she smiled brightly. “Carol Munson,” she offered, extending her hand.
    “Robin Sanders.”
    “Sanders? You’re not related to that guy in the news, are you? The one who’s trying to ban curse words from public schools?”
    “Guilty.”
    “That’s fucked.”
    I frowned. Maybe she wouldn’t be a kindred spirit after all. “I’m actually very proud of him for standing up for his beliefs, no matter how unpopular. It’s always easy to do what’s popular.”
    “Good luck enforcing a law like that.” Carol impressed me because she actually watched the news and seemed to pay attention to the issues.
    When I’d first arrived at the university, I had studied the crowds of Greek clubs, football players, girls who wanted nothing more than to date football players—and I only found those I could identify with in the film or drama departments, those who had strong points of view, who were misfits in some way, as I saw myself. Whether it was Carol’s Annie Hall hat or Andrew’s animal-in-heat laugh, no one in my film classes would have fit in with any of the other groups. And even though I dressed conservatively, I knew in my heart I couldn’t be a sorority girl. Oh, I could look the part, but I couldn’t feel it inside. My mind was always moving me in other directions and usually not toward the same places where everyone else seemed to be going.
    Carol and I walked around the campus in the thick, sticky air. “I gotta be honest,” Carol said. “When I first saw you, I thought you were some rich fuckin’ snob. No offense.”
    “None taken. I don’t think.” I laughed nervously.
    “Then I thought you might be a slut. You kinda look like my cousin, and she’s been ridden more times than my Harley.”
    “It’s funny how we use stereotypes to keep others at a distance.” Ironically, I realized I’d done exactly that with Adrienne. After all, she was far less threatening if I imagined her as an empty-headed party girl.
    “Whoa.” Carol stopped and stared at me. “You’re serious?”
    “Uh-huh.” She was staring at me like I didn’t have any clothes on. “What?”
    “Never mind.”
    We resumed walking.
    “I live on a farm back home,” I said. “And my dad’s always sayin’ not every pig is a slob.” That was his way of saying not to stereotype, I guess.
    Carol looked weirdly at me again. Maybe she was regretting this conversation.
    “Didn’t it bother you? What he said?” I had to know.
    “Nah, he’s an asshole.” We stopped again