The blaring chorus of 'Never Gonna Give You Up' jolted me awake. "Time to rise, first day of university!" Mom's voice sliced through my groggy state.
"Ugh," I groaned, wiping sleep from my eyes. The night had been restless, my nerves tangled with excitement. I'd been caught in a whirlwind of flashbacks, reliving my world as seen through one eye. But today, university stood as my escape, a chance to shed the weight of those memories.
Peering out the window, anticipation bubbled within me. "This is it," I whispered to myself, the day I'd been eagerly awaiting.
I quickly got ready, pulling on my Guns 'N' Roses tee and worn-out SPAO jeans. Breakfast passed in a blur, and soon, I found myself in Mom's sports car, en route to Arts Academy University.
But this wasn't just any car. No, my mom's Ferrari Enzo was the kind of vehicle that turned heads before you even heard the roar of its engine. A masterpiece of engineering, the Enzo housed a 6.0-liter naturally aspirated V12 engine under its carbon-fiber hood, producing a jaw-dropping 651 horsepower. It was more than just a mode of transport—it was a statement, a reminder of where she stood in the world.
As I slid into the sleek, minimalist interior, I couldn't help but marvel at the fine leather bucket seats and the racecar-like F1 paddle shifters, designed for swift, precise gear changes. It wasn't every day you were ferried around in a car capable of 218 mph, but for my mom, this was just a regular Tuesday.
We pulled out of the driveway, the Ferrari's low stance hugging the road as she accelerated smoothly, the V12 engine letting out a deep, throaty growl. My heart beat in time with the engine, nerves and excitement swirling together. This wasn't just any drive; it was the first day of the rest of my life, and I was being taken to university in one of the rarest cars on the planet. Only 400 of these existed, and here I was, sitting in one, heading toward a world of opportunity.
Before long, we approached the university, the iconic red of the Ferrari glinting under the sun, drawing the usual stares. High-end cars were already lined up in front of the entrance, dropping off students. As we pulled up, the display of luxury was staggering, each car symbolizing the opulence that defined many of my peers. "Good luck," Mom called out as she drove off, leaving me amidst this extravagant spectacle. Arts Academy University wasn't just any university; it was a crucible of creativity, where the elite refined their crafts. Politicians, celebrities, artists—they had all been shaped within these hallowed halls.
Then, a mysterious girl appeared out of nowhere. A vision in a Mango dress, with long hazelnut hair and turquoise eyes, stepped out of a vintage Rolls-Royce. She was like a figure from a high-fashion magazine, momentarily freezing time with her presence.
Snapping back to reality, I hurried to the admission desk, seeking the comfort of finding my classroom. The university's minimalist interior, adorned with abstract art and trophies, stood in stark contrast to the lavishness outside.
Upon finding my classroom, I chose a seat by the window. The room buzzed with the chatter of early arrivals, their cliques forming barriers that seemed impenetrable to someone like me.
Then Gordon, in his blue denim jacket, sat beside me. "I'm Gordon," he introduced himself with a smile, offering a touch of normalcy in this surreal new world.
Ms. Cheryl, our lecturer, entered the room, her presence commanding the space. Her hipster glasses and confident air embodied the spirit of the academy. "Welcome to Graphic Design," she announced, her voice brimming with the promise of creative endeavors.
As she spoke about ambition, confidence, and self-expression, a spark ignited within me. This place was more than a university; it was a launchpad for dreams. And as we all introduced ourselves, the air filled with laughter and creativity, signaling the start of a journey that promised to redefine not just my art, but my very being.