The Fresher

By Renee Biele 

Summer still clings to my skin

And sand to my toes

My arms are heavy

With the new books I’d ordered online

The country air fades from my nostrils

Adelaide has a different smell

It twists through my nose and I want to scratch

In the heart of North Adelaide

On the very edge of the city

The smell holds something completely different

The warmth of the pavement

And the pale stench of the River Torrens

Joins with the sound of the air planes

Coming way too close

How will I ever get used to this?

A pile of course pamphlets and bus timetables littered

The bed yet to be made

University commences in a week

It was solely on my mind

Je dois étudier! I must study!

I’d learned that expression

For my coming language classes

Shakespeare was in the boxes at my feet

I stare intently at the first pamphlet

I had a week

This orientation week

To organise myself

Anxiety and excitement whirled in my stomach

But the corridor was buzzing

A pounding noise breaks my concentration

A big orange haired boy

Sticks his head through the door

An engineering shirt proudly on his chest

A beer in his hand

‘Fresher, you coming?’

‘What?’ What had he just called me?

‘Fresher, we gotta go! There is chair jousting to be done!’

‘What? My name is…’

‘Fresher. Freshman. That’s you from now on.

I’m your big brother and I’ll show you how it’s done,’

His voice boomed at me. ‘I’ve got to study…’

‘It’s O-Week!’

‘O-Week?’

‘Orientation? Come on, arts student!’

He was leering dangerously over my books

The beer threatening to spill over

‘I’ll be right there,’ I say

I take one look back

At my waiting books

But he had me by the collar

The corridor is full of suitcases

Their new home for most

With a fringe of nostalgia

Spilling from the boxes

New students like me

Moving from all over the state

Or even from overseas

Instead of packing

The boys have their office chairs

Turned around to form their horses

Packing boxes on their heads as helmets

Being pushed, their chairs hurtle

Towards each other

Their legs forward

Their foot jousts colliding

They fall back laughing

Ignoring their bumps and bruises

‘I have to study…’ I start again

My big brother only says

‘Mount up, fresher’

There was that name again

A tiny Asian girl

Legs nowhere as long as mine

Is already on her steed

Eyes behind her glasses glowing

‘Come at me!’

I am taken aback

By the fierceness in her voice

But climb the chair that had materialised

Someone pushes me before I can even take a breath

We struck each other

I am dazed and dizzy

But he already had my arm

‘To the Common Room!’

The engineering boy yells

The room is full of new students

All in their own transition

To a college life

The cask wine is cut

And splashes into the water cooler

My stomach turns

I am too old for ‘goon’

A cup is shoved into my hand

My stomach is queasy from the punch

The ‘Old Cols’ (Old Collegians) leer over us, daring us to skull

A beer is placed in front of me

Sloshing over the sides

Everyone starts yelling

The ‘freshers’ line up

The engineering boys form a supportive back line

The medicine student in front of me

Mirrors my nerves

As our turn comes

We chug!

Our eyes lock in savage competition

She finishes before me

Lets out a belch in victory

‘Med students are the best drinkers, don’t worry about it fresher’

My brother smiles and we hit our glasses in a cheer

University has been a long time coming

I didn’t want to be distracted

Orientation Week is the time for preparation

But my books could wait

For now it was O-Week!

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