​Ceta entered the pub only to be welcomed by the faint smell of stale beer and partially cleaned up vomit. Fred had arrived minutes before and eagerly waived her down from the back of the dimly lit room. He made his way down the line of high fives and awkwardly angled hugs to a table of twelve or so people. A more disjointed group, Ceta’d never seen. She couldn’t imagine that most of them would actually be seen together in other circumstances. 

              Ceta sat at the top of the tiered classroom, overlooking the podium down below. Halfway through her first day of classes as a 1L, her nerves remained frazzled as she picked at her shirt buttons and ran her flats on the scratchy carpet beneath her. ​