I made it to Dr. Mann's class with nothing but a pair of socks in my hands.

I brushed off the snow and quickly put them on my feet, or what I guessed were my feet. They were a little blue, and I sure as hell couldn't feel them.

I hoped the embarrassment of doing my speech in my pajamas would warm them right up.

People filed into the lecture hall, and I sat up at the podium, watching them. I didn't have my outline, decent clothes, or anything else to get me through.

All I had was my memory and a decent wit.

Dr. Mann strode to the front of the room, then sat down in my usual front-row seat. He rose an eyebrow about my choice of an outfit, then frowned. I was sure he thought I was just trying to be an ass again.

I gave him a smile, but he didn't smile back.

I didn't expect him to.

When the clock struck the hour, I picked myself up from the stool behind the podium, then made my way to the front and center section of the room.

I looked over to Dr. Mann. "Did you want to say anything before I get started?"

He shook his head. "The class is yours."

I looked over to the rest of the class, took a deep breath to collect myself, then clasped my hands together.

I smiled. "Good morning, everyone. We interrupt your regularly scheduled sociology programming for this important message."

That seemed to get the attention of the majority of the class, and as almost a hundred pairs of eyes fell on me, I took it as my cue to begin.

"I don't know if you all know who I am, but my name is Amanda Jayne. I'm a freshman here, and I'm not stupid enough to think that you all want to hear what I have to say. If you have better things to do, which I'm sure you do, you're free to go. Don't let me waste your time."

I paused for a moment, waiting for the rational ones to pack up their stuff and leave.

But no one did.

I chuckled. "Guys, I was being completely serious. If you're anything like me, you have a million things you could be doing rather than sitting in a gen ed class."

Still, no one left.

I stared at them, with an eyebrow raised. "Why aren't you guys going?"

A voice called from the back of the room. "We want to see the clapback!"

I smiled. "Well, don't get your hopes up. I'm just trying to set everything straight here."

Dr. Mann studied my face, trying to determine if I was serious.

I was.

"Second, I think I owe you all an explanation as to why I haven't gotten dressed. I locked myself out of my room this morning, and I wasn't going to miss this. I can't afford it," I continued. "So, I apologize that I look like trash. Also, I'm sorry if I lose my train of thought. I left my notes in there too, so this is all coming from the heart, right here, right now."

Dr. Mann seemed satisfied with that clarification, and I tried to keep my relief internalized.

"Now, for what you've all been waiting for, I guess. Let's start this off by saying that I don't agree with a lot of what we've been taught in this class. I believe in the worth of the individual, that everyone is capable of achieving whatever they want with hard work, determination, and the desire to succeed. And I also believe that everyone is entitled to their opinion and should have the freedom to express it however they see fit, so don't let me rant. This isn't a speech. It's a discussion.

"Okay, so where should I begin? Any suggestions?" I asked.

Dr. Mann rose his hand when no one else did.

I smiled. "Yes?"

"You say that the value is in the individual. Why don't you start off with what makes you you?" he said.

"That's actually an interesting idea. Okay, well, as I said, my name's Amanda, I'm almost nineteen years old, I come from a family of seven, eight if you count the Swedish foreign exchange student that lived with us my junior year in high school, which I do. My brother's a year older than me, and I have identical triplet sisters who are ten. Honestly, my family is kind of my rock, and although it's a little more separated than it used to be, we're trying to make it work.

"My best friend lived next door to me growing up. She isn't a saint, but it wasn't hard to guess why once I found out she's gay in an unaccepting house. But what I admire most about her is her ability to accept herself, a little too much maybe, when no one else would. And my boyfriend, or, I guess he isn't exactly my boyfriend anymore, he's kind of my sanity. He thinks a lot like me, but he has the sense to shut up usually." I laughed. "If only I was more like him."

I continued. "And that Swedish guy. He's actually on the hockey team here, and he's the reason I'm here today, in a lot of ways. We've had our issues, of course, since I'm a bit of a you-know-what, and he's the human embodiment of a puppy, but I also think that's what caused us to take an interest in each other. I'm everything he's not, and he's everything I wish I could be. How was that to answer your question?"

Dr. Mann gave me a smile. "Very insightful. Now would you care to explain how all of those people make you you?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean exactly."

"You just described a bunch of different people when I asked for a description of you."

I thought for a moment. "Yep. Because those are the people that somehow grabbed a part of my soul and claimed it as their own."

"But if you're an individual, how can that be?"

"I never said I was unimpressionable. I actually agree with you that humans are social creatures for a reason. We do need each other. If there's anyone who knows that, it's me. I've just about lost my mind because the only familiar person in my life anymore is Viktor. But at the end of the day, they're not me. No one is, but me.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to ask a question. If there are seven billion people in the world, and each individual is worth nothing by themselves, if we do the multiplication, what does that equal? Zero times seven billion?"

"Zero," Dr. Mann answered.

"What if it was an exponential equation? What's zero to the seven billionth power?"

"It's still zero."

"So clearly, the individual is worth something if the human race is worth something. I guess when you surround yourself with people who know they're worth something even when others don't, it changes your perspective on a few things."

Dr. Mann nodded, and I let a smile form on my face.

"Now, I'm gonna switch gears, if that's fine with everyone. How about first impressions?" I said.

"This'll be good," I heard Caroline mutter, who was seated next to Dr. Mann.

"I'm gonna be upfront with all of you. I seriously need to work on them." I laughed. "Yeah, I guess it comes from my honesty and my natural tendency to say what I'm thinking, but I've always thought it like this: if you like me, great, and if you don't, who cares? Turns out, that only works to a certain extent."

I looked over to Dr. Mann, who smiled and shook his head.

Was that a good sign?

I didn't really care. The stage was mine, and I still had some stuff I wanted to say.

"Making enemies with lackadaisical or careless first impressions is such a foolish thing to do. Make enemies with a bitter tongue and knowing your own worth. It's much more fun that way," I said.

The class gave me a chuckle. I was glad to know they were still alive.

"Okay, anyone have any questions so far?" I asked.

No one did.

They must have died in that brief moment.

I didn't mind, though. I liked to talk. "Then let's get deep and controversial. I'm gonna start off by saying one of my most questionable opinions about society. Feel free to yell at me. Not everyone is beautiful. Go."

Caroline's hand immediately shot into the air.

"Go ahead, Caroline," I said.

"Thank you, but that's bullshit," she replied. "Everyone is beautiful in their own way, and—"

"Am I?" I asked.

"What? You? Uh, sure, I guess, but—"

"Are you just saying that?"

"Of course not. You're so pretty, so shut up. Fishing for compliments isn't a good look for you, honey," Caroline said.

"But does that make me beautiful?"

"Well, it certainly isn't your personality that does it for you," she said.

I rose my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to say one more thing, when Dr. Mann stepped in.

"Get back on track. Preferably something to do with sociology."

"Right," I said, then continued on. "Society telling you you're beautiful doesn't make you beautiful, just like society telling you you're a piece of shit doesn't make you a piece of shit. Shitty people may be attractive, but they certainly aren't beautiful, and I think it's toxic to tell people otherwise."

"So, what does that make you?" Caroline asked.

"More beautiful than you, because I'm not trying to undermine your character while you're just trying to get a grade," I replied.

Dr. Mann covered a smile with his hand.

I wasn't sure what Caroline's problem was, because I certainly didn't do anything to her.

Maybe it had something to do with Viktor. Maybe not.

If there was one thing I had learned from my experience, it was that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

I smiled at her, then carried on with my speech. "Anyway, thank you for your input. Society isn't a perfect thing, and I think that we forget that we're the people that make it up. People make society, but you can't let it make you. Don't be a sheep."

A few courageous hands went up in the air, and I answered all the questions to my own satisfaction.

One girl asked me where I got my pajamas.

She had her priorities straight.

I never thought it'd get to the point where I got sick of hearing my own voice, but I was quickly approaching that territory. I must have swallowed sandpaper, and I was about forty seconds from throwing it right back up. And my feet, dear God, my feet. As feeling returned to them, they not only burned and itched like hell, but the bottoms were sore from walking on uneven pavement.

But I bit my lip and kept talking until the class was over.

"And I think we're out of time. Thank you all for your attention, and especially thank you to Dr. Mann for giving me this opportunity. Hope I didn't disappoint you too badly," I said, wrapping up my speech.

I immediately sat down on the stool by the podium and massaged my feet, trying to keep my discomfort to myself.

They burned, itched, and hurt for the last half an hour of my speech.

I wanted to put them in a blender, make a foot smoothie, and drink that nasty ass shit. That would have been a significant improvement over this situation.

Dr. Mann made his way over to me, and I looked up with a totally real smile.

An absolutely, 100% genuine, gluten-free, vegan-friendly smile.

"Would you mind meeting me in my office? I'd like to discuss your presentation," he said.

"Could we just do that here? I really don't feel like walking right now," I replied.

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

"What? Talking for an hour? No, it's not. I hate my voice now, so thanks for that." I chuckled.

He smiled. "Miss Amanda Jayne, you've been a delight."

"What?"

A pain in the ass, yes, but a delight?

Nothing made sense anymore.

"Please, let's go to my office. I have some hot coffee in there, if you're interested," Dr. Mann said, and I was pretty much sold.

Winter was cruel, especially to the fool who underestimated her might.

If there was anyone who could relate to that, it was me.

I stood up, stomping my feet extra violently on the ground with each step, trying to kill the hundred wasps that stung my toes.

His office wasn't too far from the room, and I was grateful. I sat down in my chair as he brewed some coffee for the two of us.

As we waited for it to finish, he turned to me. "Amanda, I must tell you that I'm impressed. While you don't fully understand what sociology is all about, you practice what you preach, and you're strong enough to hold that belief. And with this presentation, you proved that it wasn't just obstinance that kept that going. You tied our perspectives together."

"Thank you," I said.

"You have something this world lacks but needs desperately. Courage." He got two matching mugs from a cupboard, then placed them on the desk in between us.

I smiled. "I appreciate that, but you don't even know me. I don't know how you can just tell—"

"Perhaps it's a premature judgement, but whether I've liked it or not, you've always stuck to your beliefs." He looked at my expression, then smiled. "I'm not the villain you once thought I was, and I can admit my own faults."

"Then I'd like to say the same about you. It takes courage to admit you were wrong, and it's a type of courage I don't have. I can admire that. I'm not nearly as self-absorbed and disrespectful as you originally thought either."

None of our conversation felt obligated or forced. For once, there were no power games being played, and the playing field was completely level.

We were equals.

He smiled. "I don't suppose you are. But it'd probably be best if you keep your expectations low for me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The rest of us aren't nearly as courageous as you."

"Anyone can have courage. It's not something you're just born with. You find it when you need it."

He gave a slight nod, then turned to the coffee. He poured us both a cup. "If only things were that simple. I can't afford to have people hate me."

"I'm not exactly good at emotional issues, if that's what this is about, but I'm pretty decent at solving problems. Are you willing to give me any more information?" I asked.

"Can I trust you?"

"That depends on what you deem to be trustworthy. If it's honesty, loyalty, and integrity, then yes. If it's sympathy, kindness, and humility, then probably not."

He smiled. "I thought so."

I let my face fall.

Cue Amy Winehouse: Whaaattt kind of fuckery is this?

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Happy Easter to all of you who celebrate! Thank you for reading!

So Part 2 of this chapter will be out on Wednesday. I'm getting a little excited about this too. (That's a little bit of a lie. I'm always excited about this story.)