Page 21 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“Philosophy.”

“I'll walk you.”

I shook my head. “I'm fine. I can do it on my own.”

He didn't seem to want to let me go, but he agreed. The advantage of him driving me was that he was able to park near campus, avoiding a long walk. Before we parted ways, he leaned down, placing a kiss on my forehead.

The search for my class began. The campus was large and even then, I spotted a few familiar faces. I would see Jenna in my next class, but for this one, I'd be alone. The halls were like a maze full of rats finding their little piece of cheese.

Finally, I found the class already full. The room quieted down as I walked in and it was only when I searched for the professor that I realized he was already starting the lecture.

“You're late, Miss…”

“Carson. Evelyn Carson.”

“Please find a seat,” he said, giving me a pointed look. “And since you've decided to be late, I would like your opinion on the discussion for the day.”

I looked around, feeling more than overwhelmed until I found a seat in the front row. Thankful I didn't have to go through the hundreds of students, I sat and placed my backpack on the desk.

“Are you ready?”

No, you ass.

“Sure.”

“Judgement. Who has the right to judge?”

It was the first day of class, I wasn't ready for a debate yet. “No one,” I replied.

He nodded. “Are you sure about that?”

“No one here is free of mistakes, therefore no one can judge another for theirs.”

“If no one can judge, then how do we judge right from wrong? Who are we to say what is something that shouldn't be done, and something that should? Isn't that judging as well?”

“It's different,” I replied with a frown.

“How so?”

“Well, as humans we have the moral obligation to make decisions, sound decisions. Morality is what guides that.”

“And where do these morals come from? Are they not from our own judgment? So, how do we decide wrong versus right? Good versus evil?”

I didn't say anything, sinking into my seat. As much as I wanted to punch the annoying professor, the questions he was asking were eerily related to my current conflict. Professor Lanthorn continued on, letting us know that morality would be a center of discussion for the rest of the semester, culminating in a long essay that I did not look forward to writing.

At the end of class, I rushed out still feeling exposed after having been put on the spot. Professor Lanthorn gave me a somewhat apologetic smile, which I ignored, making him chuckle. Maybe I was on his good side after the embarrassment.

When I turned the hallway, I heard someone calling my name, catching me off guard. I turned around, coming face to face surprisingly with one of the most popular boys when I was in high school.

“Josh Nicholson?” I asked with a smile.

“Evelyn Carson,” he smirked. “Never thought I'd see you around again. I'm in your philosophy class.”

“I didn't see you,” I replied, feeling like a school girl. I used to have a crush on him, and that seemed to be the first thing on my mind as we spoke.

“Well, there were over a hundred people in that room. I don't blame you.” He walked beside me to the cafeteria, taking a seat with me in one of the empty tables. “Last thing I heard about you, you were in Florida.”

“Yeah, I got back about a month ago. How have you been?”

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