Page 46 of Heresy

They eye each other before turning their curious stares back to me. Naomi is the first to speak up.

“Is that normally what you wear when you come here?”

I glance down at my frumpy T-shirt and jeans, rubbing my hands down my thighs as if that will iron out the wrinkles in the denim.

Sure, I’m not wearing stylish, sparkly tops that attract the eye like they are, and my hair isn’t done up or my makeup on point.

The thing is that I don’t want to attract attention. It’s when you catch the eye of every person around you that the wrong one notices you as well.

If I blend in well enough, I never become a target.

At least that’s what Dad taught me.

Or like I’m pre-designed…

Stereotypical and boring.

And great. Now I’m feeling shitty about myself again.

Letting out a sigh, I look between them and offer a wobbly smile. “We’re here to work on a project, right? I didn’t see the need to change out of what I was already wearing.”

Another telling glance passes between them, but they drop the subject without saying a word and we begin the process of ironing out the details of the project.

The night moves rather quickly as we discuss what roles each person will be taking to complete a research paper on German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche’s role and influence in contemporary philosophy, including the criticisms and accolades he received by the public, his viewpoints and lifestyle, plus the subjects and style of his particular line of thinking.

For me, the project is simple. I’ve always enjoyed Nietzsche’s work and have read his stuff since high school. However, you would think from my classmates’ reactions to the material we discuss that they’ve never heard of him and have no interest.

If we were undergrads, I could understand their lack of intimate knowledge of Nietzsche.

Philosophy majors in undergrad typically take it as a springboard into other graduate programs, such as law. Many don’t want to run through the course of the standard pre-law bachelor’s program and turn to other degrees to stick out as something different for their graduate program applications.

But not to be overly familiar with Nietzsche in a graduate philosophy program is a little odd to me. I keep that thought to myself, though, and continue prattling on about what I know and what areas I think would be good for my classmates to explore.

After a few hours, both Brenna and Naomi have finished their drinks and are making excuses to leave.

I’d hoped we could all hang out a little longer, allow the conversation to drift into other subjects such as our personal lives or their boyfriends or whatever else they’d like to discuss, but they look tired after my exhaustive lecture on the subject of classwork.

They are insistent about ending the night, and maybe that’s my fault. I tend to be long-winded on the subjects that interest me, and I don’t have much luck leaving the discussion open for lighter conversation.

They’re obvious desire to leave quickly doesn’t bother me, though. It’s not like I’ll be completely alone. I have some books out in the car I can read until Ames is ready to go.

We begin saying our goodbyes, my drink still three quarters of the way full when Ames runs up to our table, a devilish curl stretching her lips.

“Hey, I can’t stay to chat, but I have a ride home tonight. You’re free to hang out with your friends here or even go somewhere else if you want. I know Myth isn’t your favorite place.”

Brenna and Naomi make excuses again why they need to return home, both feigning yawns and claiming they’re tired despite the early hour of the evening.

My heart drops into my feet a little at the excuses, but I smile regardless. Ames, however, shoots them both a look that makes it apparent she isn’t buying their bullshit.

She opens her mouth to tell them what she’s thinking, but I grab her arm to silently stop her. A pissed off expression turns my way, but she quickly drops it to meet my eyes with sympathy.

Ames knows it’s difficult for me to make friends. I’m not like everybody else. They all have something unique and interesting that shines about them, while I’m just … me.

“It’s fine, Ames. I’m a little tired myself, so I think it’s time I get home and go to bed. I have a lot of studying to do this weekend for a test on Monday.”

She’s not buying my bullshit but nods her head regardless. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Smiling at that, I say my goodbyes and manage to leave the club before Brenna and Naomi. My steps are a touch quicker than normal because I feel embarrassed about being shoved aside, my arms circling my midsection as I approach my car.

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