The revelation that the university cafeteria sprawled across ten floors was staggering.

Jacob's son inquired, "What would you like to eat?"

I stammered, "I don't know."

He persisted. "What is your favorite dish?"

I shook my head, utterly clueless. Merely being satiated was a luxury for me.

Ultimately, he led me to a table laden with lasagna, a dish so delectable that I devoured five plates, unable to restrain myself.

Henceforth, if asked about my culinary preferences, I would unequivocally declare my love for lasagna.

After the meal, he playfully patted my arm, remarking, "Dude, you've certainly built up quite an appetite! No wonder you're muscular."

I offered an awkward smile, too ashamed to reveal my true gender.

Over subsequent visits to deliver items to him, our acquaintance deepened, and I learned his name - Noah Scott, a name as gentle as the spring breeze.

My own name, Charles White, carried the weight of hope that my mother wished me to be a boy.

I observed the university with a mix of envy and jealousy.

It was during one of these deliveries that I inadvertently picked up a campus card.

After finishing my work, I would often wander a long distance, clutching the campus card with a scratched photo and name and slipping into the school at night when the influx of students made my entry unnoticed.

Under the moonlight, young boys and girls at my age trod in their shadows on the playground, and I trailed them in circles, listening to their animated discussions about university life.

"You have no idea how strict my major's teacher is. He even takes attendance with facial recognition."

"Core courses are like that. Electives are far more lenient. There's barely any roll call; at most, they just glance at the roster."

"I have very few electives this semester, and they are all..."

Recalling Jaden's intention to skip his elective, I wondered if, given the lax attendance, I too could attend.

The more I pondered, the quicker my heart raced, a mix of guilt and exhilaration. I yearned to experience a university lecture, to fathom the knowledge imparted in those elective courses.

Jaden had shared his class schedule on Instagram, and I inquired from Noah about locating his classes.

To facilitate my search, Noah downloaded an app exclusive to the students in his college, revealing the exact classroom for each session.

I clutched my phone, scrolling through the details repeatedly. The prospect of learning about computers, history, international affairs, and other subjects I only knew by name was thrilling.

When Jaden posted pictures from his Bali getaway on Instagram, I hastened to finish my daily brick-hauling duties.

I changed into my best attire and washed my hands clean to settle into the elective class where Jaden was scheduled to be.

Over time, I had gathered all the necessary information - elective courses were open to all students, minimizing the risk of encountering acquaintances of Jaden.

I retrieved my high school pencils and notebooks, carefully positioning myself in the front row, an empty seat that guaranteed anonymity.

The elective course teacher, on a whim, conducted a roll call before the lecture.

"Jack Cooper?"

"Present!"

"Jaden White?"

I buried my head, feigning note organization and murmuring, "Here!"

The teacher's gaze moved on.

I swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to steady my nerves.

The teacher delved into poetry, and I listened intently, not wanting to miss a word.

I had always excelled in literature, drawn to the ancient words that resonated deeply, affirming my existence.

Given my work on the construction site, this was my sole class, a sanctuary of learning.

The teacher was a gentle old man named Bob Carter. He quickly took notice of me and enjoyed posing questions that I could readily answer.

After each class, I diligently previewed and reviewed the material.

Therefore, it was effortless for me to respond to his questions. With a smile, Bob remarked, "It's rare to find boys with such delicate thoughts these days."

I harbored the illusion that I was truly his student.

I attended his class as usual on a Friday. Today, Bob delved into a poem, "Ode to the West Wind," by Percy Bysshe Shelley. I had memorized this poem in elementary school.

Bob was lecturing to the class. "This remarkable poem by Shelley was written in 1819 near Florence, Italy. It's crucial to understand the historical context. Europe was in a state of turmoil following the French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars. Shelley, a radical thinker, was living in self-imposed exile from England due to personal scandals and political persecution.

"The poem itself was inspired by a strong wind Shelley encountered while walking along the Arno River. Interestingly, he composed the entire work in a single day. It was later published in 1820 as part of his collection 'Prometheus Unbound.'

"It's important to place this work in its literary context. 'Ode to the West Wind' is a prime example of Romantic poetry, emphasizing the power of nature, the importance of emotion and imagination, and the role of the individual. It reflects the revolutionary spirit of the age and Shelley's own political ideals.

"The poem's influence has been far-reaching. Its final line, 'If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?' has entered common usage as an expression of hope in difficult times. The themes of change, the power of nature, and the role of the poet continue to resonate with readers and have influenced subsequent generations of writers and thinkers."

This poem, which I had only recited fluently in my youth, concealed such a profound tale. I couldn't help but applaud Bob's eloquent exposition inwardly.

At the end of the class, Bob smiled enigmatically, "I will take attendance twice this semester, once at the beginning and once at the end."

He proceeded with the roll call.

"Jack Cooper?"

"Present!"

"Jaden White?"

"Present!"

"Present!"

Two voices rang out simultaneously.

The individual who responded from the back row strode directly towards me. Fearfully, I turned to glance. My heart was seized by the realization that it might be my younger brother, who had skipped the elective course for the entire semester.

Jaden spoke coldly, "Who are you? Why are you impersonating me? I heard from a friend, but I didn't believe it until now. I've caught you in the act."

Bob descended from the podium and inquired, "Which one of you is Jaden White from Computer Department?"

Jaden retorted indignantly, "It's obviously me! Mr. Carter, look at him; he's clearly a vagrant. I don't know what his intent is by impersonating me. Is he trying to deceive the female classmates?"

Bob demanded sternly, "Which department are you in?"

I couldn't answer about my department. I could pretend to be Jaden, perhaps because I was jealous and wanted to experience his life.

Yet, I couldn't simply claim to be a genuine student of the university.

I glanced down at my best shoe, noticing the side was cracked.

A buzz of discussion erupted around me.

"Oh my god. It won't be the same as last time, will it?"

"Why are there so many perverts?"

"So disgusting. He always sits in the first row in class. I thought he was a top student, but it turns out he's just a sneak-in."

Other female students around me unconsciously leaned back on the benches, distancing themselves from me, the "pervert."

Bob scrutinized me with a piercing gaze, beginning to interrogate me.

I knew there had been instances where outsiders had sneaked into the campus, harassing female students.

The school forbade non-students from auditing classes, so under a strange confluence of circumstances, I had impersonated Jaden to attend.

I dug my nails hard into my palms, grappling with what to say.

Could I claim to be Jaden's sister, merely desiring to sit in a bright, clean classroom and pretend to be a college student?

I couldn't utter those words; it felt like a dull pain as if a wound was being ripped open.

Jaden and his classmates were intent on escorting me to the police station, but I kept repeating, "I just wanted to attend the class."

As we were stalled at the classroom door, Noah, passing by the adjacent classroom, was drawn in by the commotion of a crowd.

Tall enough to see the scene without straining, he listened as a classmate filled him in on the situation.

I was encircled. They didn't pull hard, but it rendered my standing impossible.

Pushing through the throng, Noah grasped my arm and steadied me, preventing my fall.

He spoke earnestly, "Sir, he is my cousin. He likes to come to school to play with me on Fridays. He must have been too bored and was drawn in by your class after I finished."

Turning to Jaden, he continued, "I'm not helping my cousin, but you haven't been attending class for ages. My cousin answered for you, and you haven't even thanked him, yet you're still complaining?"

Seeing my usual serious attendance, Bob let it slide, advising me not to repeat such actions.

Under the stares and whispers, Noah led me away from the crowd.

Noah didn't inquire why I had done this; perhaps he truly believed I yearned to attend university classes.

He smiled and said, "I have an appointment today. I don't want to stand someone up. I'll treat you to lasagna next time."

I nodded mechanically and walked back home.

Upon reaching home, I found my best shoe broken, the hole as large as the one in my heart.

I washed my face, wanting to count the money I had earned from moving bricks.

Only when I counted those ten-dollar bills could I catch my breath.

I retrieved the iron box I had hidden beneath the bed.

I weighed it in my hand unconsciously, opening it with trembling hands, only to find all the money gone.