When I had finally received my acceptance letter in the mail, I was so excited that I dropped all my books on the kitchen floor. Without even informing me, Father had placed the envelope on the kitchen island along with the other mail. Neglected, it lay there all day long as if it were a brochure with discounts for a store no one cares about.

He looked rather vexed by my sudden squeal of joy, especially since I hadn't even opened the envelope yet. I didn't have to... The size and weight of the envelope were evidence enough that I had been accepted to Hyrule University, one of the country's most prestigious ivy schools.

My heart could not be tamed when I read the letter to Father, but he didn't bother to give as much as a pleased nod. Of course, in his eyes, my acceptance was nothing to be impressed by. He was the president of HU after all, so it was expected of me to attend his school. Little did he know that the source of my excitement did not come from pride but from the fact that I was going to attend the same school as my best friend Impa.

I already had it all planned out; I was going to room with her, go to lunch with her every day, take the same classes as her...

✤ ✤ ✤

Well, I'm now in the second week of my first semester at HU and I've only seen Impa once. 

We are different majors with different classes and very different schedules. We don't room together either because Father decided it would be best if I lived at home to keep distractions to a bare minimum. The campus is only a thirty-minute ride from my house, so the commute isn't too bad, and after Impa had sent me the first videos of her dorm parties, I was actually relieved that I didn't have to endure such noise every weekend.

I see now why Father thought it wise to keep me at home. Still, I wish he would have let me make that decision for myself.

I roll my eyes and sigh as the professor goes on about comparative politics. I wouldn't even have to take this boring class, but I told Father that I'm majoring in political science (as he wished) when in truth, I am majoring in biology. 

He likes to quiz me, so in order to convince him of my little white lie, my only option was to actually learn something about politics. Signing up for this class was a good idea in my head, but now that I am sitting in the back row, scribbling on my syllabus*, it just seems like a waste of time. I really have to find a way to tell Father that I am pursuing a completely different career from what he had hoped. And that he has to accept that.

*A syllabus is a paper/document with the outline of a course of study and course requirements

The class finally ends and only one more class is left before my lunch break. The morning sun looks promising with an unclouded blue of air. I love the weeks between summer and fall because the temperature is perfect.

I send a message to Impa to check if she's free to grab lunch with me in an hour. Surprisingly, she says yes. I smile as I make my way to the next lecture hall. Impa and I haven't seen each other since our first day of college and although nothing exciting has happened to me, I know she'll be thrilled to tell me all of her experiences so far. 

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that someone so extroverted and outgoing wants to be friends with... well, me. A quiet, ordinary, and frankly boring girl. But it's always been this way, we've been friends since first grade and that will never change.

I enter the classroom. It's my English class, one of the few classes I even speak up in. That is if the teacher asks a question and happens to look in my direction. 

I take a seat in the first row and pull my books out of my backpack. As always, I am ten minutes early and the first to sit. I open the book and dive into the story as more students fill the room with conversations. When the chair next to me is suddenly taken, the room falls into silence and I look up from my book in surprise. All eyes are on me and the guy sitting next to me. 

Every week, I sit in the same chair, and each time the chair next to mine is empty. So I am surprised to see that today someone decides to sit next to me. 

He is barely on time because the professor starts the lesson not a second after he's seated. Without a word, the guy next to me opens his book on the first chapter. I try not to be nosy, but he should be reading chapter five, not one. Maybe he is new to the class? It's only the second week of the semester, so it's possible that he signed up late. Great, and I have to sit next to someone who clearly doesn't care about his grades. 

I try not to let it distract me, but I can't help but notice his... odor. Is that sweat? My eyes try to scan him without him noticing it. He is wearing gym shorts and some kind of a jersey, so yes, what I'm smelling is certainly sweat. This is why I choose to be the first in the classroom; so that I can select a seat far from people like him. 

Who is this guy and why does he have to sit next to me of all people?

I glimpse at his worksheet. On the top right corner I find his name; Link. His handwriting is all messy, does he even care about college? How can the teacher read his answers if the ink is all smudged? My eyes shift to the highlighted notes in my notebook; they are perfectly organized with sticky notes, as they should be. I almost hope that he looks at my folder, maybe he'll be inspired to be more organized, too. But he doesn't look at my side of the table, not once. 

It's probably for the best, I don't want him to copy my answers, and besides, my name is all over my papers. When he finds out that my name is Zelda Hyrule, he'll just be one more person asking about my family. Everyone thinks that I have an advantage just because my family founded HU and because Father is the president of the school, but I have to work just as hard, if not harder than anyone. With all the expectations and this pressure I feel like failing is illegal.

I put my entire arm on my paper to hide my name. The guy doesn't seem to notice my awkward pose at all. At least he's copying what the professor is writing on the whiteboard. I notice that he is writing with his left hand, smudging the ink as his hand follows the words, and I feel bad for being prejudiced about his messy handwriting.

The class ends and the guy leaves in silence. Throughout the entire lesson he didn't utter a single word, even when he had the answers the professor was asking for. 

Irked, I make my way to the lunch hall, still thinking about my English class. I've never been this distracted... Next time, I'll be sure to find a seat all alone again. I wonder why everyone was staring at him when he sat next to me. I'm used to the attention, but this time was different. Usually they look curious or judgemental, but today, everyone looked shocked when Link sat next to me... Before I can finish my thoughts, my vision is suddenly blocked by a hand and a girl with a familiar giggle stands behind me.