HOW I FELL FOR A YETI
Chapter 1: On the Road to My Dream
Sophia woke up before her alarm could jolt her awake. The warm rays of the first day of September tickled her face with a gentle glow. Today was a big day, a special one she’d been eagerly awaiting. She was a college student now. No, scratch that. SHE WAS A COLLEGE STUDENT! With every step, Sophie was getting closer to her dream. After graduating from community college, she’d aced her exams, nailed the creative portfolio review, and got accepted straight into her junior year at the university.
Sophia had loved to draw since the day she was born. She drew everywhere, all the time, with anything she could get her hands on. Sure, she’d stopped doodling on the walls and raiding her mom’s makeup for her “masterpieces,” but everyone in the Pearl family knew they had a budding artist on their hands.
The Pearl family consisted of Sophie, her mom Isidora, and her grandma Catherine.
The women in her life noticed little Sophie’s passion for creativity early on and, to keep trouble at bay, enrolled the mischievous tyke in art school. It wasn’t smooth sailing at first, though. At four years old, the school refused to take her in. But by the time Sophie turned five, they had no choice but to admit their youngest student into the first grade of art school. They weren’t just swayed by her persistence; they were blown away by her skill and her grasp of artistic terms. Honestly, even the older kids couldn’t match her originality, development, or raw talent.
As an exception, Sophie was accepted into the art school, and they never regretted it for a second. Her determination, creativity, and resourcefulness were unmatched. Her artwork won competitions, sold as lots at auctions, and she even had a few solo exhibitions. In short, she was a girl touched by divine talent.
And today, this young lady—as her grandma liked to call her—woke up and started getting ready for her first day at university. The night before, Sophie had picked out a pretty pastel dress for her big debut, and it was already waiting for her on a hanger. She didn’t obsess over clothes, but she also didn’t just throw on the first thing she grabbed from her closet. Comfort and practicality were her style.
After a quick breakfast and a kiss goodbye to her Gran—her affectionate nickname for her grandma—Sophia headed off to campus. It felt like the whole world was smiling at her along the way: the sun, the passersby, and even the traffic lights seemed to flash green just for her.
Sophia Pearl was one of the first to step into the spacious lecture hall. She only knew two other girls there, who, like her, had decided to pursue a degree after community college. She’d earned a full scholarship, which didn’t exactly thrill the other girls since her ranking had bumped them down to paid spots. Sophie didn’t let their sideways glances bother her. She wasn’t desperate to make friends, though she was always ready to lend a hand. She knew her worth and could stand up for herself when needed.
The first class of the day was a lecture. In the schedule, under the instructor’s name, Sophie read: M. I. Blossom.
Students trickled in for the first class with all the enthusiasm of a rainy Monday. A short, chubby girl approached Sophie.
“Hey there! You’re new, right? I’m the class rep, Svetlana. Give me your number so I can add you to our group chat,” the girl said, diving right in.
“Hey! I’m Sophia Pearl. Here’s my number,” Sophie replied, pulling it up on her phone.
“Cool, I’ve added you to the group. Welcome to the family!” Svetlana grinned. “We’ve got a real zoo here, or more like a snake pit. But don’t worry, the vipers and adders are only mildly venomous. Trust me, you’ll figure out the antidote quick enough. Just steer clear of Zlata and Matthew—they’re the top-tier reptiles. Consider yourself warned. If you’ve got questions, hit me up,” Svetlana Bochkina said, giving Sophie the lowdown.
Sophie’s phone pinged with a notification that she’d been added to a group called “Bohemia,” which had twenty-eight members listed.
Ten minutes after the class was supposed to start, the instructor finally glided into the room. Margaret I. Blossom was an overly thin, tall woman wearing a loud, way-too-short dress for her age. Her voice was shrill and grated on the ears, and her monotonous lecture had everyone fighting sleep within the first fifteen minutes. Sophie couldn’t believe how someone could make such an interesting subject so mind-numbingly dull. In the back rows, a few students dozed off, and some were even snoring. When the first class (finally!) ended, the instructor scribbled something in her notebook and scanned the room one last time as the students perked up at the sound of the break bell.
“Svetlana Bochkina,” she called out, deliberately emphasizing the last name, “I see we have a new student. But there should be two more. Let everyone know I won’t tolerate this kind of disrespect.” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “And where’s little Matthew?”
“I’ll pass the message along when they show up, and I’ll add them to the group. As for where Matthew Veselsky is, I’ve got no clue,” Svetlana replied, then added with a smirk, “I’m not his mom to keep tabs on him.”
The instructor’s face soured, but she didn’t comment on the jab.
The lecture hall started filling up with students greeting each other and swapping summer stories. From outside the door, loud laughter echoed, and two guys strolled in, joking about “a wilted flower that hadn’t been watered and turned into a tumbleweed.”
“Oh, little Matthew, I saw your exhibition the other day,” one of the guys mocked in a fake voice. “You’re so talented, so masterful… and your brush…” The room erupted in laughter.
Sophie didn’t care for the instructor, but she had no respect for clowns who pulled stunts like this. She instantly knew this was the Matthew the class rep had warned her about. Sophie looked away from the pair of jokers, but she couldn’t help overhearing what came next.
“Matt, take a look. The goddess of love herself has graced our humble campus. Finally, the universe took pity on us and sent an angel to save us from loneliness and keep us from dying of boredom.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie noticed the entire class was now watching the two guys, waiting to see what would happen next.
“Ma chérie, mon amour,” Matthew started, hamming it up with a terrible French accent.
“Ah, the infamous flower-watering enthusiast,” Sophie shot back in flawless French. “I’d suggest keeping your brush to yourself, lest someone, heaven forbid, splashes your palette with some vibrant colors.”
The duo across from her didn’t look so amused anymore, their eyes betraying confusion: What did she just say?
Someone in the class snickered, and soon others were scrambling for a translation.
“And what did the goddess just say?” Matthew asked, his tone sour.
“The goddess just hinted,” a striking, slender girl answered for Sophie (who she later learned was Zlata), “that you should keep your brush in its cup, or you might need some Photoshop later.”
The bell rang, and everyone quickly took their seats, though whispers and stifled giggles lingered even as the next instructor entered the room.