Diorama

© Sweet-Kisses

~*~

Diorama: a picture (or series of pictures) representing a continuous scene

Nick walked into the theatre that was filled with at least one hundred other students and gazed around himself after taking a seat in the middle. He was a little apprehensive about his first music class, 'music phenomenology', especially after hearing about his professor from his new friend Alex. Deep down, Nick was a little envious of Alex, and of his other new friends too, Howie and Brian. They were so comfortable with themselves and approaching new people. Nick secretly wished that he could be like that, but there was no point fooling himself. No matter what, he'd always been shy and probably would continue to be.

Nick sighed at the people around himself and tapped his pen lightly against his thigh. They all seemed to be friends with each other, like they already were great friends even though this was the first day of the semester. He didn't understand why he was always so out of touch with everything and everyone. Just as he was beginning to curse at himself, his professor strolled into the theatre and Nick held his breath. So that was Professor Richardson! The same one he passed the path into the dorms that morning!

The one...the one...the very same one who tried to hit on him.

But then, he did have a tendency to make things more dramatic than they were, and all the professor did that morning was give him a smile.

Nick was awestruck. His eyes widened. Why the hell was he getting so worked up? But...he couldn't tear his eyes away. On this particular day, Professor Richardson carried a briefcase and walked with a deft, business-like manner. Wearing thin, steel-rimmed glasses, a long-sleeve black shirt with the first few buttons open again and black pants, he looked like he just stepped right out of Gentleman's Quarterly magazine. Nick took deep breaths. For some inane reason.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Professor Richardson, in case you didn't know, " Professor Richardson greeted, a radio-mic pinned to his shirt. "I trust everyone is in the right room. This is music phenomenology. If that's not you, I'll give you a second or two to make a graceful exit." A few snickers flittered through the room before the professor continued, and began to stroll about while he talked. "Why study music? What's the point? Why music?"

Nick held his breath again when the professor walked up the steps to the aisle where he was sitting, the professor's eyes directly on his. But what Nick saw in them was anything but professional. "Your name?"

"Uh...umm...uhhh....Nick. Nick...Carter."

Professor Richardson wore an amused smile. "Well....Nick, Nick Carter. In your opinion, why study music?"

Nick shrugged, blushing uncontrollably. "Well...ummm...I...uhh...to study music is...well, based on the individual, I guess. It's like anything. You study something....ummm...because you enjoy it?"

"Do you enjoy music, Mr Carter?" the professor asked, crossing his arms, arching an eyebrow.

"I...umm...sure. I love music."

The professor nodded and a slow smile appeared on his face. "Thank you, Mr Carter. Now," he added, turning back toward the steps, "who can define phenomenology?"

Nick sat back in his chair and sighed in relief. But, something bothered him. Why did it seem as though the professor's question was about something other than music?

~**~

"Look," Alex snapped sternly, slamming a form down on the desk, "I don't care what you say. Clean your goddamn ears out and listen to me. I need financial aid. This will help me get through school. I'm poor. Get it?"

The woman sitting before him wore a tired expression. "Like I tried to tell you before, Alexander, I don't make the rules. So unless you pay the fees by the due date, your enrollment will be cancelled. Understand?"

"How the fuck am I gonna pay all that money?" Alex yelled. "Do I look like fucking Rupert Murdoch to you, honey?"

"Excuse me," the woman seethed with indignation, "if you swear at me one more time, I'll let you talk to campus security. How would that be?"

Alex sighed in exasperation and ignored the looks the people in line behind him were giving. Some looked sorry for the woman who had to put up with such foul trash, some looked disgusted and some looked uncomfortable. "So. What the hell can I do?"

"Do what everyone else does, Alexander," the woman replied, glaring at him. "Get a job that pays good. And quick smart."

Alex stormed out of the office and back to his room that he shared with his new friend, Brian. How the hell was he supposed to work while he was in school? And what about his parents? Weren't they supposed to help out at some stage? But then he remembered. His parent, his mother, was about as poor as he was. His father died when he was young. So...no parental help. He'd have to find a good job that paid good money quick and keep himself in school. The last thing he wanted was to be kicked out. So many people from his neighborhood back home thought he was such a loser, that he'd never make anything of himself, and he just couldn't do that...

There's a saying that miracles happen everyday and everywhere, so that might've explained the reasoning behind Alex checking a student bulletin board at the end of the floor that he lived on. One ad in particular seemed to jump out at him and scream, 'hey buddy, this is your lucky day!"

$$$$$$$

Needed: Exotic dancers for respectable nightspot. Males and females. Age 21+ Desired.

Alex quickly scribbled down the number on his hand. "Lucky day, indeed," he murmured, smiling to himself. Just as he turned around, he crashed into someone. When he stepped back, he was greeted with a tall girl with dark hair and blue eyes, her porcelain skin making her look like a china doll. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be," the girl replied airily, waving a hand. "I'm so goddamn spastic today. According to Astro-Zone, Mercury's in retrograde you see, so..." She smiled and paused for a moment, then extended her hand. "I'm Anna Rothman. And you are?"

Alex shook her hand. "I'm Alex McLean. I'm a dance student and I'm dirt poor. Got any plans for tonight?"

~***~