The shrill, unrelenting trill of my alarm clock shattered the silence of the early morning, a sound that usually felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. Ringgggggggggggg! I groaned, my limbs feeling heavy and uncooperative—a trait I had come to accept as part of my "sluggish" nature. My hand fumbled blindly across the nightstand, knocking over a stack of medical journals before finally silencing the mechanical beast.
"It's my first day of school today. I have to prepare now!" I whispered to the shadows of my room, my voice thick with a mixture of dread and a spark of genuine, buried excitement. I forced myself out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floorboards with a dull thud. My name is Francine Scott. At nineteen years old, I often felt like a collection of contradictions: slim and tall at five-foot-seven, yet moving with the grace of a sleepy turtle; possessing thick, untamable eyebrows and wild curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own; and peering at the world through a pair of oversized eyeglasses that never seemed to sit straight on the bridge of my nose. Every time I smiled, the metal of my dental retainers caught the light, a constant reminder of the physical "imperfections" that had made me a target for bullies throughout my childhood.
But today was supposed to be the beginning of the end of that life. I was a freshman at Universal University, a legendary institution known for hosting the most unique and peculiar individuals from every corner of the globe. As I brushed my teeth and stared at my reflection, I reminded myself of my ultimate mission: to become the world's number one heart surgeon. It wasn't just a career path; it was a debt I felt I owed to a world that often seemed heartless.
The journey to the university felt like a fever dream. The closer I got to Heroine Island, the more the air seemed to hum with a strange, vibrant energy. As I stepped off the transport and approached the main gates, I was greeted by a massive, ten-meter-by-ten-meter billboard that screamed in neon colors: WELCOME FRESHMEN! I stood there, paralyzed for a moment by the sheer scale of the entrance. "This is really it," I whispered, the words lost in the wind.
My moment of quiet reflection was violently interrupted by the high-pitched scream of high-performance tires. A flash of red—shiny, expensive, and moving far too fast—streaked across my vision. Before I could even think to move, the fender of a red Lamborghini clipped my side, the force of the impact sending me flying backward. I landed unceremoniously amidst a pile of overstuffed garbage cans located just behind the university gate, the smell of rotting leftovers and discarded paper filling my nostrils.
"Ouch, it hurts!" I roared, the pain in my hip flaring up like a hot iron. I struggled to sit up, my glasses hanging precariously from one ear.
The car door hissed open, and a man stepped out. He looked like he had stepped directly off a fashion runway: tall, dark, and strikingly handsome, dressed in a black suit so luxurious I could almost feel the price tag from where I sat in the dirt. His black shoes were polished to a mirror shine as he hurried toward me.
"Miss, I am very sorry! I accidentally hit you. I did not feel that you were standing there," he said, his voice surprisingly soft and filled with concern.
"Felt?" I snapped, my anger overriding my usual sluggishness. "Are you crazy? You didn't see me standing there? Come over here and help me!".
He reached out; his movements slightly hesitant but surprisingly strong as he helped me to my feet. As I brushed the grime from my skirt, I looked up to give him another piece of my mind, but I froze. His eyes were wide and beautiful, yet they were fixed on a point somewhere over my left shoulder. They didn't blink. Not once.
"Why are your eyes not blinking?" I asked, my voice dropping to a shocked whisper. "Do not tell me... you are blind?".
The man offered a small, pained smile. "I am very sorry again, miss. And yes, I have been blind since I was born. I am living in this world with incomplete senses". He paused, extending a hand in my general direction. "By the way, I am Mark Hendrix, a freshman of this university. Please, let me take you to the hospital so that I can assure you are really fine".
I felt a wave of guilt wash over me so intense it made my stomach churn. I had just screamed at a man who couldn't even see the road, let alone the girl standing in front of it. "I... I am really sorry for shouting at you earlier," I stammered. "I'm Francine Scott, also a freshman. And about the hospital—there's no need. I think it's just my pride that's bruised".
Mark's smile widened, and for a second, the tension vanished. "How about this then, Francine? Instead of the hospital, let me treat you to lunch later today to compensate for the accident?".
I looked at him—this handsome, wealthy, yet somehow vulnerable man—and felt a strange pull of curiosity. "Okay," I said, my voice softening. "I will meet you here later at 11:30 am sharp".
As he drove away, I turned toward the university lobby, my heart still racing. But as I entered the halls, my awe returned. The rumors were true. Universal University was a sanctuary for the "peculiar". I saw a student navigating the hallway in a high-tech wheelchair, another with a gleaming silver artificial leg, and even a girl who had covered her entire body in layers of colorful fabric, leaving only her eyes visible. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like the odd one out. I felt like I belonged.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the grand staircase. A girl was making what could only be described as a "grand entrance," surrounded by a small army of servants. She wore a long, fabulous gown that looked more suited for a royal coronation than a lecture hall.
"Is she crazy? Does she know this is a school, not a pageant hall?" I whispered to myself.
The students around me began chanting her name: "Tiffany Carr! Tiffany Carr!". A girl leaning against the wall leaned in and whispered, "Tiffany is the daughter of the University President. She's the most famous person on campus".
I watched Tiffany—with her blonde hair, red lips, and perfect nose—and felt a twinge of skepticism. She was beautiful, yes, but I had learned the hard way that a beautiful face didn't always mean a beautiful heart.
Leaving the spectacle behind, I headed toward the university complex for the welcoming ceremony. The building was gargantuan, a feat of engineering that looked like it could hold half a million people. I followed the signs for the Doctor's Department, counting my steps as I looked for my assigned seat.
"154... 155... 156," I counted. I found my chair, but there was a problem. A girl in a long red gown was already sitting in it.
"Excuse me, miss," I said, my voice stuttering slightly. "I'm Francine, and this seat is designated for me. The name tag is right there".
The girl looked up, her expression shifting from boredom to pure vitriol. "Excuse me, you sluggy, weirdo, and very ugly creature! I don't care if this seat has your name. I like this area, and I sit where I want!". Before I could respond, she shoved me hard, sending me sprawling onto the floor. She then reached down, ripped my name tag into shreds, and replaced it with a new one: Jesah Coogan.
I didn't stay to fight. The humiliation was a cold weight in my chest. I ran to the nearest comfort room, locked myself in a stall, and wept silently. Did I make the right choice coming here? I wondered.
When I finally stepped out to wash my face, I saw another girl watching me from the mirror. She wore thick glasses like mine and a vintage outfit that looked decades old.
"Are you okay? I can see you were crying," she said softly.
"I'm fine now," I replied, trying to summon a shred of confidence.
"I'm Irish Travers," she said, offering a hand. When we shook, I gasped. Irish had ten fingers on each hand—twenty in total.
"I was born this way," Irish explained sadly. "I've been bullied my whole life. I'm here to become a brain surgeon so I can save my brother, who has a tumor".
Meeting Irish felt like finding a kindred spirit. We walked back to the ceremony together, realizing we were in the same department. But as the event ended and we headed toward the exit, my day took one last chaotic turn.
A man was sprinting through the crowd, a blur of white silk and expensive cologne. "Hey, stop!" I shouted, but he didn't even look my way. We collided with enough force to knock the wind out of me, and we tumbled to the ground, tangled in a heap.
"Get off me, you sluggish one!" he roared, pushing me away as if I were a piece of trash.
"It hurts! You arrogant, inhumane man!" I yelled back; my face flushed with rage.
He stood up, brushed off his white suit, and glared at me. "You ruined my day, you ugly girl!" he spat before walking away.
Irish pulled me up, her face pale. "Francine, don't mess with him. That's Drake Hendrix, the son of the island's owner. He's the most arrogant person in this university".
I watched him go, my hands trembling. "I don't care who he is," I whispered. "I will never associate with someone like him".